#Alpha and Omega - closed thread

[nerdygirlramblings]

did someone say omega!soldier? here you go

previous

The next two hours are a complete whirlwind. You find yourself back in front of Adam, who has the most shit-eating grin, being officially and properly introduced. He holds out his wrist for you to scent, and as you finally tell him your name, you hold out your hand to him. Price passes him your transfer papers and tells Adam to pull together everything he needs to make sure the transfer goes through smoothly. He makes you sign releases for your service records, so your skills can be paired with those of the other 141. His smile freezes momentarily when he apologetically says, "You're going to have to re-qualify on your weapons and do another PT check."

Price cuts in and says, "I'll make sure we get that squared away, Adam. Ye'll have 'er new quals within a fortnight."

Adam also makes you release your medical records. "Need to know anything that would be necessary if you're injured on an operation and can't get to base medical."

You're pulled into a virtual standing meeting with Laswell who was apparently anticipating this and promises to pass this news up the chain of command on her end as well. Price also has you record a quick introduction for him to send along to Farrah and Ale, names that mean nothing to you yet, whom he says are members of other military units who often work closely with the 141 in certain areas of the world.

You're given a tour of the task force's barracks by a grinning Soap who tells you, "Noo tha' you're part 'a the team, you're welcome here whenever ye want."

You end the day walking with the 141 into the mess for supper. The conversations quiet when you walk in after Ghost with Gaz at your back. Hushes comments spreading from the tables nearest the door to further back in the room. It's not like half the base didn't see you with them yesterday, but there's something different now. Yesterday they met you there; walking in together, everyone knows a dynamic has changed.

As you pass by the alpha whose nose you broke, there's the scent of burning ozone wafting from the table, and you hear someone mutter "fuckin' slag."

Before you even register what's happened, you're overwhelmed by the acidic scent of burning rubber. Ghost leans over, grabs the offending soldier by the scruff of his neck, and slams him into the table top. You're standing close enough to hear Ghost when he growls in the other man's ear, "I ever hear ya fuckin' disrespectin' a member 'a my team again, I'll kill ya." Ghost then shoves the man back into his seat and glares around the now silent mess. "Eat," he commands, and heads get quickly buried back into meals, conversation ticking up to cover the oppressive anger still radiating off Ghost.

He stalks silently to a table in the back of the mess, the rest of the pack and you following in his wake. None of the others seem surprised or fazed by Ghost's behavior. You're a little disturbed, in part because you've never been on the receiving end of such protective behavior. Your omega, however, is preening over the alpha's display.

You're sat between Soap and Gaz again, but this time it's Price and Ghost who collect food for the table. You watch them head for the line, their eyes constantly scanning the room, pointing at little pockets of soldiers. You turn to ask Gaz what it means only to find him glaring at other tables, seemingly at random.

When Price and Ghost get back, you're quiet throughout the meal, trying to follow the conversation that clearly picks up threads of things you know nothing about. You perk up when Ghost rumbles your name. "Yer wi' me on the range tomorrow mornin'," he says. "Hear Adam needs new weapons quals." He glances at Price, who nods. "Gunna see wha' ya can do."

You blink at him for a moment. "Er, yes, sir. Er, half five, sir? Or does earlier work better?"

The pack shifts a little. Soap tilts his head quizzically while Ghost asks, "Wot? Why on earth would we be on the range so bloody early?"

You feel a ripple of shame work its way down your back. "Er, I usually go early. Before it gets too crowded." Now Price is looking at you, too. You can see he's trying to guess what you're not saying.

Ghost huffs, grasping things quicker than Price. "Ya mean, ya go before ya piss off alphas simply by being an omega wi' a good eye." You shrug in response, eyes on the table. "Fuck 'em if they can't handle 'ow good ya are." He looks at you, and you can feel his stare burn your cheek. When you can't take it anymore, you glance at him. He catches your eye and says, "Oh eight hundred, sharp, yeah? Ya show me if yer as good as Garrick keeps sayin'."

You swallow quickly, throat bobbing, as you reply, "Yessir. I'll be there."

next

series masterlist | main masterlist

[liuhsng]

✩ˎˊ˗ always been yours ( nk ! ) — part 2

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the untouchable series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — ni-ki x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 ⤷ word count — 20.8k ⤷ taglist for the series ��� open !

⤷ warnings — a/b/o au, alpha!ni-ki, omega!reader, fem!reader, foul language, arranged marriage au, childhood friends to lovers trope, intense possessive alpha!ni-ki, minor physical violence, bullying and emotional manipulation (not from ni-ki !), emotionally charged confessions, ni-ki’s down bad and whipped, tooth-rotting fluff, angst with comfort

⤷ a/n — and just like that, the untouchable enhypen omegaverse series officially comes to an end 🥹💌 i’m honestly so overwhelmed with emotion even writing this—this series has been such a huge part of my heart, and finishing ni-ki’s part felt like closing the final chapter of something really personal and special. thank you to every single person who read, commented, screamed in the tags, and supported this chaotic, emotional ride from start to finish.

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — with your return, nishimura riki has never been happier—his walls lowered, his touch softer, his heart finally full. but when news of your sudden closeness spreads like wildfire, it doesn’t just confirm your bond—it invites the storm. omegas glare. alphas don’t take the hint. he tries to stay calm, but patience runs thin when the world refuses to understand that you were never up for grabs. so he makes a decision. no more whispers. no more pretending. he’s going to show everyone—loud and clear—that you’re his, and that ring on your finger? it’s not a rumor. it’s a promise.

Your laughter faded slowly, but the smile stayed. It lingered on your lips like a secret. Like something sacred.

And maybe… maybe this didn’t fix everything.

But it felt like a start.

But then Ni-ki let go of your hand.

Just for a moment.

You tried not to pout, really, but the absence of his touch made your fingers twitch. He didn’t say anything, only fished into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a folded handkerchief—clean and white, embroidered with his family’s insignia in deep gold thread.

And then, with the utmost care, he reached up and brushed a thumb under your eye.

You hadn’t even realized the corners of your mascara had smudged from earlier—too much almost-crying, too many feelings. But he had. He noticed.

“I swear I didn’t mean to get you this close to sobbing,” he murmured, tone somewhere between sheepish and sweet. “But since we’re already here…”

You laughed under your breath as he wiped away the mess gently, like you were made of something fragile. Your chest ached in the best way.

When he pulled back, you tilted your chin up, blinking at him. “Do I look okay now?”

He scoffed softly. “Since when did you not look okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “Now.”

That made him huff, full of exasperated affection. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love that about me.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

You giggled, trying to compose yourself, but Ni-ki was already tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, shaking his head with a faint smile. “Thank god you wore waterproof makeup. Otherwise, you’d be walking back in there looking like some heartbroken Omega.”

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!”

“I said what I said.”

“And how do you even know what waterproof makeup is?” you asked, squinting at him. “Don’t tell me… Riki. Are you out here wooing other Omegas?”

He looked at you, deadpan. “As if.”

You raised a brow, teasing. “That’s suspicious, Riki. Very suspicious.”

He rolled his eyes, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I live with two sisters,” he said flatly. “And I’ve grown up around personal stylists since I was like—born. I know what waterproof makeup is. I know the difference between setting spray and primer. I can braid hair in three different styles.”

Your mouth parted. “Wait, seriously?”

He shrugged, casual. “It’s not like I can woo other Omegas anyway,” he added, offhanded—like the thought had never even crossed his mind.

“You think I have the patience to deal with anyone else’s attitude? You’re already a handful.”

You smacked his arm lightly, grinning. “Rude.”

But he just smiled, not denying a thing. “True though.”

You snorted, and Ni-ki couldn’t help but smile again—wider this time, like the joy of just seeing you happy was something he wanted to hold close. Maybe forever.

He stepped closer, slipping his hand back into yours like it belonged there. “Ready?” he asked, his voice gentler now.

You glanced at the closed doors just down the hall, then back at him. His hair was still slightly tousled, his expression steady but soft.

“Ready,” you whispered.

The door clicked shut behind you louder than it should’ve. It was the same one Ni-ki had slipped into earlier with Konon—tucked near the grand entrance, away from the main crowd—but as soon as you stepped through it now, hand in hand, you might as well have walked straight onto a stage.

The venue was full. Not overwhelmingly so, but enough for the change in atmosphere to be immediate. Conversations stuttered. Footsteps paused mid-step. Heads turned slowly, like in disbelief that this was happening—that you were back. And more than that, that he was with you.

Ni-ki didn’t flinch. If anything, he pulled you a little closer. His hand slid from yours for just a second to rest on the small of your back. It wasn’t possessive in the territorial way others expected from an Alpha like him—it was protective, reassuring.

You could feel the heat of his palm even through the fabric of your dress. Feel how his fingers subtly curled into the fabric.

He leaned down slightly, his voice low, brushing the shell of your ear. “Keep your chin up. You belong here. Let them see it.”

And you did. You belonged. You both did.

It wasn’t just the way you looked together—though that was undeniable. The two of you walking side by side, calm and composed, looked like something designed.

A painting come to life. He stood tall, broad-shouldered in his black button-down and coat, dark eyes sharp, while you walked beside him with quiet grace, your steps steady, your expression unreadable.

Someone gasped from across the hall. You didn’t have to look to know who it came from. Another pair of eyes followed you from the second-floor railing. Whispers erupted—but no one dared to be loud enough to draw Ni-ki’s attention.

The look on his face alone was enough to put people back in line.

A subtle shift in his jaw. The faint crease between his brows. He wasn’t glaring—but there was something lethal simmering under his calmness.

Your heart beat a little faster.

“We’re… definitely causing a scene,” you muttered under your breath, a weak attempt to joke, though your voice barely rose above the hum of tension in the room.

Ni-ki didn’t miss a beat. “Good,” he said, his tone low, laced with something smug and proud. “Let them see. Let them know.”

The corners of your lips twitched.

He didn’t let go—not once. Not even as the stares kept coming, some bold, some subtle. But you were both walking with purpose now, step in sync, hearts stubbornly steady as you made your way across the room toward a familiar table near the far end. It was tucked by the wide windows overlooking the garden—Ni-ki’s designated spot, always reserved for the higher people in society.

You spotted them even before they noticed you—Jake’s distinct laugh, Sunghoon’s ever-smooth posture, Heeseung gesturing wildly about something while Jay rolled his eyes.

Their mates were there too, leaning in to whisper with each other, their backs turned. All of them too engrossed in whatever story Jake was trying to act out with his hands to notice the youngest Alpha in their group quietly approaching—with you in tow.

Not until Ni-ki cleared his throat. A sharp sound. Low, but commanding.

The effect was immediate. The table went silent, heads snapping toward the sound.

“OH MY GOD.”

You barely had a second to breathe before you were tackled—Sunoo’s mate was already on her feet, arms flung around your neck in a suffocating hug. “You’re here?! You’re—you’re back?!” she squealed, her voice shrill and bright with disbelief.

You laughed, completely winded but grinning ear to ear. “Hi—! Oh my god, I missed you!”

“Missed me?” she said dramatically, pulling back just to grab your face. “Girl, I thought you died.”

“(Y/N), oh my god,” Jake’s Omega gasped, standing up beside her. “She’s—wait. Wait.” Her eyes flicked between you and Ni-ki, still very much glued to your side. “Is this—?”

“No way,” Sunghoon said under his breath, leaning forward with wide eyes.

Heeseung blinked. “Did hell freeze over?”

“Shut up,” Ni-ki muttered flatly, but there was no bite to it. He still had his hand on your back, thumb brushing small circles near your spine.

Before you could respond, Sunghoon’s mate was suddenly in front of you with a gasp, her eyes wide as she took you in.

“Okay—hold on,” she said, practically breathless. “Can we talk about this gown? Babe, you look like you just stepped off a Vogue cover.”

You laughed, cheeks warm. “It’s just a dress.”

“No,” she shook her head quickly, fingers brushing along the silk fabric at your side with gentle admiration. “This is not just a dress. Look at how it’s catching the light—oh my god, it’s giving celestial. Who styled you?”

“I did,” you joked, and she gasped again, scandalized in the most loving way.

“You did not! Are you kidding me?!”

“She’s always been like this,” Heeseung’s mate chimed in sweetly as she pulled you into a warm hug, swaying a little as if to really feel that you were here. “Putting us all to shame like it’s nothing.”

You giggled, a sound that felt so much younger than the evening around you. “I missed you guys so much.”

“Here,” Jungwon’s mate said, walking up with a glass of wine already in hand, grin playful. “This reunion deserves a drink.”

“Oh god,” you laughed, accepting it. “You’re enabling me already?”

“Obviously,” she said, raising her own glass and clinking it gently against yours. “It’s what we do.”

For a moment, you were fully wrapped in them—their familiar scents, their voices, the way they talked over each other, poked fun, caught you up in the whirlwind of their comfort. It felt like breathing after weeks of holding your breath.

Ni-ki, still silent, stepped to the side of the table, letting you reunite with them properly. He took a spot just beside Jay, arms loosely crossed now, eyes never straying far from you.

Jay nudged his elbow with a glance, tone low but sharp with curiosity. “Since when was (Y/N) here?”

Ni-ki didn’t bother to look at him. “Literally just a few hours ago.”

Jay blinked. “You’re kidding.”

Ni-ki shook his head once, eyes still trained on you, watching as you laughed at something Sunghoon’s mate whispered dramatically in your ear.

From the other side, Sunoo looked over, lips quirking as he took a casual sip from his drink. “Well,” he said smoothly, “looks like you don’t need our help anymore figuring out what’s wrong with you tonight, huh?”

Ni-ki snorted under his breath, barely able to fight back the smile that tugged at his lips. “Not tonight.”

Just then, the girls—still buzzing with excitement—started nudging you not-so-subtly toward the empty seat next to Ni-ki. One even gave your back a gentle shove.

“Go on, go sit beside your man,” Jungwon’s mate teased, wiggling her brows.

You were still laughing, breathless and flushed from the whirlwind of affection, when you finally took a step toward the seat, only for Ni-ki to immediately act.

Without even blinking, he stood from his chair and shifted it slightly away from the table, careful not to step on the trailing edge of your gown. His movements were precise, instinctive. Like he'd done it a hundred times before.

The second you were seated, Ni-ki reached for the back of your chair and pulled it gently—yet undeniably—closer to his. You gave him a look, eyes narrowing just a little.

“Really?” you whispered under your breath, your tone caught somewhere between amused and incredulous.

He didn’t answer right away. Just smirked.

Without saying a word, Ni-ki draped his arm lazily across the back of your chair. His fingers settled near your shoulder, brushing against the silky fabric of your gown. The contact sent goosebumps up your spine, though his touch was anything but rough.

“You looked like you were about to be kidnapped by them,” he said lowly, nodding at the girls still watching you with matching grins. “Figured I should do my part and rescue you.”

“Oh, how chivalrous,” you murmured, lips twitching with amusement.

“You have no idea,” he muttered, leaning in just enough that his voice was for your ears only.

You let yourself smile, head tilted slightly toward him as your hand found the edge of his suit jacket. “So what now, Mr. Nishimura?”

He leaned closer, voice barely a breath above your ear.

“Now,” he said smoothly, “we let everyone know you’re mine.”

You tilted your head, glancing up at him with a teasing smile. “You mean… to your friends or to our families?”

Ni-ki huffed a quiet laugh, his lips brushing your temple as he replied, “Both works.”

You laughed at that, soft and easy, the kind of laugh that warmed your chest. He grinned too—half proud, half helpless.

But before you could lean further into the comfort of his side, someone across the table called your name, loud and playful.

“(Y/N)!” Sunoo grinned, leaning forward with bright eyes and barely contained mischief. “You have no idea how embarrassing this guy’s been since you left.”

Ni-ki groaned immediately, dragging a hand down his face as if that might shield him from whatever was coming. “Sunoo, don’t—”

But Sunoo was already ignoring him. “No, like—you’d think a pureblooded Alpha would keep it together, right? But this man? Sulked for weeks. Got passive-aggressive with the gym bag. Once wore your favorite perfume on accident and wouldn’t take it off for three days—”

“Sunoo, I’m warning you—”

“And,” Sunoo continued, ignoring the deepening scowl on Ni-ki’s face, “he literally almost bit Jake for suggesting he just ‘move on.’ Like. Bit. Him.”

Ni-ki groaned again, leaning back with a glare and a muttered, “Traitor.”

But before Sunoo could open his mouth again, another voice chimed in from the far end of the table.

“Oh yeah? And you think you have the right to talk?” Sunghoon said flatly, raising a brow as he looked across at Sunoo. “You couldn’t even hold down an Omega until my sister basically mixed herself into your life.”

Sunoo’s eyes widened. “Hey! That is so not how it happened—!”

Sunghoon smirked. “Isn’t it?”

Then, without looking, Sunghoon pointedly turned his gaze to his sister—sitting prettily beside Sunoo with flushed cheeks and an amused smile—and raised a brow like he dared her to disagree.

Sunoo threw up his hands. “Okay, to be fair, I liked her for like… five years before anything even happened.”

Sunghoon scoffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah? And you mated her while I was gone. During one party. At our house.”

He leaned forward, accusatory. “One. Party. I leave to go talk to people in the other wing of the house for like fifteen minutes and then the next morning, I find out my baby sister is scent-marked by you and you look like a smug little shit who won the lottery.”

Sunoo blinked, looking very much like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. “It… was mutual?”

The table was full of laughter now—Heeseung almost choking on his wine, Jungwon burying his face in his hands, and you were giggling uncontrollably into your palm while Ni-ki leaned in with a lazy smirk, clearly entertained.

He dipped closer, his lips brushing just beside your ear, voice low and laced with something playful. “See what I had to deal with without you for five years?”

You stifled a laugh, the sound bubbling past your lips anyway as you leaned into him, shoulder pressing against his.

“Well,” you murmured, glancing up at him with a smile, “I’m here now. So I’ll deal with it with you.”

Ni-ki huffed out a soft breath—somewhere between a laugh and a sigh—as if you had no idea what those words meant to him. He gave a slow shake of his head, dark eyes still crinkled with amusement as he dipped down and pressed a small, warm kiss to your temple.

“Yeah,” he murmured against your skin, “you’re here.”

It had been a week since you returned.

One painfully long, jetlagged, schedule-packed week that turned your body clock into a confused mess. Between re-adjusting to academy life, catching up on your duties, and trying to get used to the local time again, ‘hard to get used to’ didn’t even begin to cover it.

You were halfway through your morning routine, eyes still half-lidded as you absentmindedly swept a blush brush across your cheek in front of your vanity. You weren’t even sure what you were doing anymore—just trying to look somewhat alive for the day.

A notification lit up your phone screen beside your jewelry tray, pulling you from your thoughts. Curious, you placed the brush down and reached over for your phone.

riki 🐥🤍 [7:15 AM]: good morning. i’ll pick you up today. be ready, sleepyhead.

A laugh escaped your lips—soft and barely there—but genuine enough to fill your chest with warmth. Your thumb hovered over the screen, heart fluttering.

You felt like some lovesick Omega straight out of a drama, one who clutched her pillow at night and squealed over the smallest gestures.

But, this wasn’t just any Alpha. This was Ni-ki.

Nishimura Riki. The same cold, untouchable pureblood Alpha who’d once built walls so high around himself that not even his closest friends could reach him for a while. The same Alpha who used to speak in blunt one-word replies and walk off before people finished their sentences.

Now, he was opening car doors for you, sending early morning texts, and buying you strawberry bread and jewelry just because ‘they reminded him of you.’

It was ridiculous. It was surreal. It was kind of perfect.

You barely fought the smile tugging on your lips as you tapped out a reply with still-blush-stained fingers.

you [7:16 AM]: but i’m not done with my makeup yet :(

His reply came in literal seconds.

riki 🐥🤍 [7:16 AM]: you can finish that in my car. i’m already here.

You scoffed at your screen, rolling your eyes. “So demanding,” you muttered, but your grin said otherwise.

With your phone tucked between your shoulder and cheek, you quickly zipped your makeup pouch and tossed it into your bag. You took one last glance in the mirror and began straightening the collar of your blazer—only to notice the university pin was slightly crooked.

“Of course,” you groaned, adjusting it with both hands. It finally sat the way it was supposed to, a gold accent gleaming against the crisp fabric.

Grabbing your bag, you gave yourself a final once-over before walking out of your room.

And then you froze—eyeing the spiral staircase that curled down to the main floor like it was your sworn enemy.

You sighed, muttering under your breath. “Who thought stairs like these were a good idea before eight in the morning…”

Carefully, you descended step by step—heels clicking against polished wood—and peeked into the living room. Your mother was seated on the couch, robe still on, laptop perched on her lap as she scrolled through emails with her glasses slightly slipping down her nose.

“Morning,” you greeted softly, smoothing the back of your skirt as you approached.

Your mom looked up, smiled warmly, and closed her laptop. “You look nice today, sweetheart.” She stood to meet you halfway and pulled you into a gentle hug.

You returned it, nuzzling into the familiar warmth. “Where’s Dad?” you asked against her shoulder.

“Left early,” she replied, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “He had a meeting. Something about the logistics contracts.”

You nodded in understanding. “Of course he did.”

She pulled back slightly and held your shoulders, giving you a little once-over. “You look a bit tired. You okay?”

“I’ll live,” you answered with a laugh. “New schedule’s just a lot.”

She kissed your forehead with a proud smile. “You’ve got this. Just pace yourself.”

You hugged her one more time before pulling away. She tilted her head curiously as you turned to grab your bag.

“Wait—who’s driving you to school today?” she asked, glancing toward the front of the estate. “I didn’t hear any of the drivers leave with any of the cars.”

You paused. Blinked once. Then smiled—small and sheepish.

“Uh… Riki is.” You rubbed the back of your neck. “He’s picking me up.”

You paused. Blinked once. Then smiled—small and sheepish.

“Uh… Riki is.” You rubbed the back of your neck. “He’s picking me up.”

“Of course he is,” she said fondly, eyes twinkling. “The perfect Alpha for my perfect little girl.”

You groaned playfully, but your cheeks were already burning. “Mom…”

She leaned forward and kissed your temple again, squeezing your arms before pulling away. “Just saying the truth, sweetheart. Go. Don’t let him wait too long.”

You hugged her one last time, letting yourself relax in the warmth only a mother could give, before turning to walk toward the main door. One of the estate guards gave you a polite nod and opened it for you, and you nodded back with a quiet, “Thank you.”

And there he was.

Nishimura Riki—leaning against his sleek black sportscar, one hand casually in his pocket, the other holding his phone. His tie was loose, the first two buttons of his uniform shirt undone in that typical Alpha-boy fashion that really shouldn’t look that good this early in the morning.

You smiled a little to yourself, standing still for a few moments just to enjoy the view. Because, that was your Alpha. In your driveway. Waiting for you.

He was busy typing—probably replying to some message from Jake or Jungwon, the way his brows were slightly furrowed in concentration.

But then, just like that, his head lifted.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to.

He stilled, the phone still in his hand, until his nose twitched just slightly—sensing your scent on the morning breeze.

The moment his eyes met yours, everything softened. His whole posture changed—phone shoved into his pocket without a second glance, his body pushing off the car almost on instinct.

He met you halfway.

“Good morning,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug that was warm, firm, and quietly sweet.

You melted into him with a soft sigh, cheek pressing against the smooth fabric of his blazer. “Morning, Riki.”

“You smell good,” he murmured against your hair, nose brushing your scalp. “I like it.”

You laughed. “It’s my new shampoo.”

He chuckled at that, hand ghosting along your back before he pulled away just enough to open the passenger door for you.

“My parents really raised me right,” he said under his breath, mostly to himself but loud enough for you to hear, “holding doors for my Omega like a proper Alpha.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t bite back the smile. “That or you’re just scared of what my mom will say if you don’t.”

He smirked, eyes gleaming as he helped you in. “That too.”

Once you were seated, he gently closed the door and rounded the car with that same easy confidence he always had—this time a little brighter, a little warmer.

He slipped into the driver’s seat and glanced at you, like he couldn’t quite help it. “Ready?”

You pulled out your compact from your bag and smiled. “Drive smoothly please, give me ten minutes. And then I’ll be perfect.”

Ni-ki shook his head, the smile never leaving his lips as he adjusted the mirror and started the engine. “Already perfect.”

You scoffed, cheeks heating up again. “You’re so—ugh.”

“Charming? Smooth?”

You groaned and covered your face with your blush brush, laughing. “Why do I even talk to you?”

Ni-ki only chuckled, the sound low and warm in his chest as he reached across to buckle his seatbelt. With one smooth motion, he grabbed your bag and gently set it in the backseat before starting the engine.

“Because,” he said easily, pulling his hand back to rest on the gear, “you have no choice.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips curled up anyway, amusement tugging at the corners. “Rude.”

The tires rolled softly over the stone-paved estate drive until the gates opened and the world beyond your sheltered home welcomed you both with the hum of early morning life.

As the city skyline came into view, tall buildings stretching up into the cloudless blue, Ni-ki calmly merged into the line of cars that filled the main road.

His hand rested loosely on the wheel, his posture relaxed yet effortlessly focused. He wasn’t rushing—not like he used to when he was younger and didn’t know better. No, this time, his driving was smoother. Slower. Careful in the way that made you feel safe. Loved, even.

You leaned back in your seat with a small sigh, flipping open your compact mirror to check your lips.

“Can you drive smooth today?” you asked absentmindedly, uncapping your lip gloss.

He glanced at you, the corner of his lips tugging up. “I always do.”

You looked at him pointedly.

“Okay, fine,” he conceded with a small laugh. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

You smiled, the kind of soft, helpless grin you didn’t mean to let slip around him, and focused on applying the sheer gloss to your bottom lip. You were halfway through reapplying when—

“Speed bump.”

His voice was low, steady—more of a warning than anything else—but his arm moved on instinct anyway. Without hesitation, he gently lifted his free hand and extended it across your front, resting just above your stomach protectively as the car eased over the bump.

You paused mid-application, startled but not at all bothered.

Your eyes flicked to him. He was still focused on the road, jaw relaxed, one hand still on the wheel.

The smallest smile tugged at your lips as you lowered the gloss and capped it. “You always used to do that.”

“Old habit,” he said with a shrug, though he didn’t move his arm right away. “Can’t help it.”

You leaned just slightly into the warmth of his forearm, grateful in a way words couldn’t quite hold.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

He still didn’t look at you. But his smile grew just a little wider. “Don’t mention it.”

You glanced out the window again, watching the blur of the morning crowd and flower vendors setting up shop at the corner. Your heart felt strangely full in your chest.

The council room was warmer than usual, filled with golden afternoon light seeping through the large glass windows. Papers were everywhere—spread out across tables, color-coded folders stacked unevenly beside laptops, and printed floor plans of the campus pinned to the bulletin board.

You were perched comfortably on Ni-ki’s desk, his sleek black laptop open in front of you, as you scrolled through an email thread about booth placements for the upcoming academy festival.

On the opposite end of the room, Sunoo’s mate sat cross-legged on top of her mate’s desk, pen twirling between her fingers, her sleeves rolled up and her head tilted in amused curiosity.

“So,” she said, eyes twinkling, “how does it feel to be back in the Student Relations Committee?”

You let out a soft laugh, leaning back on your palms as you stared at the ceiling for a second. “Stressful, and weirdly nostalgic.”

She grinned. “That sounds about right.”

“But,” you added, letting your gaze fall back to her with a crooked smile, “it’s kind of nice. I missed this. The work, the people, the feeling of being part of something.”

She nodded knowingly. “Especially being under Ni-ki again.”

You groaned, tossing your head back as your cheeks warmed. “Don’t even start.”

“I didn’t say anything!” she defended, biting back a laugh. “You said it.”

You huffed playfully, then set the laptop aside for a moment, grabbing the printed checklist beside you. “He’s different, you know. Not completely, but—he’s more, I don’t know. He actually answers emails now.”

She barked a laugh. “That’s character development.”

“Right?” you agreed, both of you giggling. “But seriously, he’s been… attentive. Helpful. Sweet, even. It’s kind of disorienting.”

“Disorienting,” she repeated with a smirk. “Is that what we’re calling soft Alpha behavior now?”

You groaned again and covered your face with the checklist.

She laughed, then softened her voice, leaning her chin on her palm. “You like working with him again?”

You slowly lowered the paper and gave her a quiet, thoughtful smile. “Yeah. I do.”

“Ugh, that’s cute,” she groaned, then suddenly straightened up and hopped off Sunoo’s desk. “Okay, no more of this—I need to fix that food stall layout before Sunoo starts sending me voice memos titled ‘concern.’”

You laughed as she crouched by the drawer and yanked it open, pulling out a sleek silver laptop. “You’re telling me he labels them?”

“Yes!” she huffed dramatically, blowing her bangs from her eyes as she sat in his chair and powered the laptop on. “Like, ‘Concern 1: Why is booth 3 beside the west exit?’ ‘Concern 2: Did you check for enough outlets?’ Like I don’t have 3 hours of sleep and 8 emails from the fire safety committee already.”

You gasped mockingly. “Sounds like a personal problem.”

She pointed a finger at you without even looking up. “Totally your fault. You were chatting me up.”

“Excuse me for bonding,” you replied, giggling as you slid Ni-ki’s laptop a little to the side and started tidying the printouts beside you.

Just then, the council room door swung open—and you both turned to see Ni-ki walk in, balancing two very loaded brown paper bags in his arms. The scent of food followed him in immediately, warm and sweet and slightly savory.

You blinked. “Um…”

Ni-ki didn’t say a word. Not even a glance at either of you.

He walked straight to Sunoo’s desk and gently placed the first paper bag in front of the older Alpha’s mate.

She raised a brow. Then, slowly turned to exchange a look with you.

You tilted your head, mirroring her confusion. What is happening right now.

Still wordless, Ni-ki crossed the room and stopped in front of his desk—where you were still comfortably seated, laptop slightly to the side. Without warning, he placed the second bag down next to you with a soft thud.

And then—without so much as a ‘hi’—he stepped behind you and placed both hands gently on your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze.

You blinked, startled by the touch, then turned your head to look up at him just as Sunoo’s mate gawked openly.

Ni-ki met your gaze with a completely casual expression.

“…What?” he asked flatly.

You raised your brows. “What’s with the food?”

He sighed like you were the one being weird. “I escaped an ongoing festival council meeting.”

Your jaw dropped. “You escaped?!”

“I had to,” he deadpanned. “Bringing Sunoo with me would’ve looked suspicious. So he texted me, listed some stuff she’d want.” He gestured lazily to Sunoo’s mate, who immediately smiled into her fist, unwrapping a rice ball.

Then Ni-ki looked back down at you, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And I already know what you like.”

Your brain blanked for a second. “…Excuse me?”

“What?” he shrugged. “You’ve ordered the same lunch three times this week.”

You squinted. “So now you’re feeding your committee?”

Ni-ki finally let out a short laugh and leaned down closer to your ear. “No,” he corrected. “I’m feeding you. Because someone skipped lunch again.”

You frowned. “You haven’t eaten either.”

“I can take care of myself just fine, angel,” he replied, that little smirk back in full force.

Your cheeks warmed. You grabbed the paper bag beside you with a dramatic sigh and pulled it into your lap, peeking inside.

Your brows rose immediately.

Inside was a still-warm bento box of rice with golden tonkatsu cutlets drizzled in thick curry sauce, two strawberry milk cartons, two pieces of your favorite egg bread wrapped in parchment, a small container of sliced mangoes and peaches, and—resting delicately on top of it all—a folded napkin.

You picked up the napkin slowly and stared.

Your name was scribbled on it in a sharp, familiar handwriting. Definitely Ni-ki’s.

He leaned back against his desk beside you and crossed his arms. “I didn’t want it to get mixed up.”

“There were two bags.”

“Exactly,” he said, completely unfazed.

Sunoo’s mate let out a loud squeal from the other side of the room. “I swear to god,” she mumbled through a bite of onigiri, “if you two don’t date already, I’m gonna fight someone.”

Ni-ki didn’t miss a beat. “We’re engaged,” he said plainly, as he leaned back onto the edge of the desk beside you.

Sunoo’s mate slowly put the rice ball down onto a napkin in front of her and just—stared.

“…I’m sorry,” she said, eyes wide and blinking rapidly. “What.”

You immediately turned your head and smacked Ni-ki’s hand lightly, the one that was still resting snugly on your shoulder. “Riki!”

He just grinned, entirely too smug. “Oops.”

You let out a sheepish laugh and shrugged helplessly at Sunoo’s mate. “W-Wolf’s out of the bag…?”

She didn’t laugh.

Instead, she gave you the most betrayed expression ever, jaw dropped and blinking as if you’d just stabbed her with a spoon. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, (Y/N),” she said, tone dry as desert. “I would’ve laughed if I didn’t just get lied to.”

You groaned and hid your face behind the napkin with your name still scribbled on it. “It wasn’t supposed to be announced until next week!”

“Well, it’s already Tuesday,” she said flatly.

“I know,” you said, voice muffled. “I’m sorry.”

She sighed dramatically, flopping back in Sunoo’s chair, arms crossed. “Ugh. Yeah, I get it. Timing. Formalities. Family business and all that blah blah. I understand.” She paused.

Then added, “Still sad I didn’t get best friend privileges, though.”

You laughed again, feeling Ni-ki’s fingers gently twirling the ends of your hair behind you, absentminded and familiar.

“I wanted to tell you first,” you said honestly, peeking out from behind the napkin.

She narrowed her eyes. “But?”

“But he was being annoying.”

“Excuse you,” Ni-ki muttered behind you, flicking a strand of your hair playfully.

Sunoo’s mate stared between you two for a long second. “Oh my god. I hate how cute you guys are.”

You gave her a look. “You’re literally dating Sunoo. You can’t talk.”

She sighed dramatically, flopping into Sunoo’s chair like the weight of being called out had hit her. “Okay. Point made.”

Then she perked up, narrowed her eyes, and pointed a finger in your direction. “But! You owe us a girls’ day. No questions asked. I want cafés, nail salons, photo booths, and probably crying over nothing in a dressing room. We deserve it.”

Before Ni-ki could so much as open his mouth to object, she turned her gaze toward him and glared.

Ni-ki immediately sighed in defeat, hands up like he’d been caught mid-crime. “Noted,” he mumbled. “I’ll stand down.”

You giggled softly, glancing at her with a small smile. “Okay. Just confirm the day—we’ll plan it properly.”

She beamed and nodded, clearly satisfied, and went back to happily eating her food like she hadn’t just threatened your fiancé.

You looked back at Ni-ki then, eyes soft.

“I’ll drive you when you confirm the day, yeah?”

He leaned down a little, his hands returning to your shoulders, thumbs brushing gently along your blazer as he looked at you with warm eyes.

“Eat well,” he said, dipping his head to press a soft kiss to your forehead, then one to your nose. “That means the rice, and the fruits, Omega. Don’t test me.”

You huffed a small laugh, nose scrunching. “Yes, Riki.”

He smirked at that—but just as he was about to straighten up, you reached up and gently tugged him back by the collar of his uniform blazer.

He blinked in surprise—just before you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

His smile bloomed instantly, wide and boyish and everything soft, and he bent back down just to press another kiss to the top of your head. “Cheeky.”

You laughed quietly as he rubbed your shoulders again, slower this time, a little reluctant to leave.

“Enjoy, alright?” he murmured. “And don’t forget you have class after this. I know your schedule.”

You groaned, making him laugh as he finally stepped away, bag in hand and heart completely full. “Bye,” he called as he walked backwards toward the door, tossing you one last grin.

“Bye,” you said, still smiling—already grabbing your chopsticks like he asked.

It was already 3PM, and you were seconds away from fully dozing off.

The professor’s voice droned on about ‘market penetration strategies’—something you’d already studied last semester in Italy and could probably recite in your sleep. You had half a mind to drool on your notes at this point, your head tilting ever so slightly…

Until someone gently tapped your shoulder.

You blinked, sitting up straight quickly as a neatly stacked pile of papers was handed to you. “Ah—thanks.”

The one who passed it to you gave a small grin. “Professor’s giving out the activity sheet.”

You nodded, flipping the paper over lazily. Just another case analysis. You passed the rest of the stack toward the students behind you, already bored again, when the same Alpha leaned a little toward you.

“(Y/N), right?”

You glanced over, slightly surprised. “Yeah, that’s me.”

He smiled a little brighter this time, more casual and charming. “I’m Riku. Maeda Riku.”

He held his hand out in that polite, practiced way.

You took it, smiling politely. “Nice to meet you, Riku.”

But before he could say anything else, the professor’s voice cut in like a buzzer. “Alright, class dismissed. Don’t forget to read the last three chapters for discussion tomorrow!”

The room immediately exploded into motion. Chairs scraped, bags zipped, conversations bubbled up. You were already packing your things quickly, more than ready to be done.

“See you tomorrow, (Y/N),” Riku said with one last glance over his shoulder before heading toward his group of friends near the back door.

You paused for a brief second, looking at his retreating figure—friendly enough. But your mind didn’t linger.

Because as soon as you stepped into the hallway, heading toward the student council wing, a familiar scent curled around you before you could even register the voice.

“There you are.”

You blinked—and nearly walked into Ni-ki, who was casually leaning against one of the stone pillars lining the hallway.

Hair a little messy from the wind, tie slightly loosened, and expression so neutral anyone else would’ve missed it. But you saw it—the small, barely-there curve of his lips.

“Riki,” you greeted instinctively, the tiredness from class melting into warmth the moment you said his name.

Without a word, he stood up straight and reached for your bag, slinging it over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Then he grabbed the small bundle of books you were hugging to your chest—easily balancing them on the same arm.

His now free hand found yours without hesitation, fingers sliding perfectly between yours. You were so used to it by now, the easy way he took care of you without asking—but this time, it didn’t go unnoticed.

Not by the crowd of students still flooding the hallway.

Eyes darted between you and Ni-ki, jaws dropping. You could hear someone whisper “No fucking way” behind you, followed by someone else going “Is that—Nishimura? Carrying her bag??”

One girl dropped the chocolate box she had been holding, still debating whether to confess to him or not.

Ni-ki didn’t even flinch. He just turned his head toward you with that soft gaze reserved only for you and said, “Long day?”

You nodded, still smiling. “Tiring. Almost fell asleep.”

“Mm.” He raised your hand slightly to press a quick kiss to the back of it. “Should’ve skipped. I’d cover your attendance.”

You laughed, squeezing his fingers. “You already do that way too much for the others.”

This was not the Nishimura Riki people knew.

This was not the cold, unreadable, borderline terrifying Student Relations Director who once threw out a box of letters in front of the senders and handed the chocolates to his committee ‘because it’s free sugar, not affection.’

The same Ni-ki who once rejected someone with a single look and allegedly said, ‘I’m not taking applications.’

And now here he was—carrying your bag, holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, and saying things like ‘Should’ve skipped.’

The Ni-ki who was yours.

He paid no mind to the stares. No weight to the whispers. He never cared for them anyway—had never once let the opinions of others dictate what he did or who he showed up for. If anything, he only tightened his hold on your hand.

You were too busy recounting the rest of your afternoon to even notice the way the world seemed to slow down around you both.

“I mean, I get that he’s trying to explain the concept,” you were saying, frowning a little as your steps synced naturally with his, “but I swear I’ve read about product lifecycle models a dozen times already. He just kept saying ‘strategic positioning’ like it was some divine revelation.”

“Strategic positioning,” Ni-ki echoed dryly, eyes half-lidded with amusement. “He says that every semester. There’s a compilation video of him somewhere.”

That made you laugh, leaning your head briefly against his arm. “I believe it. I was this close to falling asleep if Riku didn’t poke me with that worksheet.”

“Riku?” he asked, tone even, but you caught the faint raise of his brow.

“Mhm,” you replied, brushing it off. “He was nice. Sat beside me today. Handed me the papers.”

Ni-ki didn’t comment right away. Just nodded, thumb running slowly over the back of your hand. “I see.”

You kept talking, caught up in your little recount like nothing had changed. “He introduced himself too. Kind of sudden, but I guess he’s new. Oh! And the professor—he tried to call my name, but butchered it again, I swear—”

And Ni-ki was still listening. Still eagerly listening. His head tilted slightly toward you, eyes soft and focused, nodding at every point you made, even humming now and then to show he was following.

His attention was gentle—undivided. Like there was nothing else worth watching. Like the world had narrowed to just you, and the rest could burn for all he cared.

But the rest of the world hadn’t disappeared.

Not really.

A few paces behind, stuck in the movement of the dispersing crowd, someone hadn’t looked away.

Still standing near the lecture hall doors, pretending to be mid-conversation with a friend—his eyes, however, were locked on you.

More specifically, on the back of your head… and the way Nishimura Riki's hand held yours with such instinct. Like he had done it a thousand times before. Like it was his right.

Riku’s friend nudged him. “You coming?”

He blinked. “Yeah. Sorry. Zoned out.”

But even as he moved, the name you’d said echoed in his mind.

Nishimura Riki.

The infamous pureblooded Alpha. Student council. Pureblooded. Standoffish. Untouchable.

He glanced one last time at your silhouette disappearing around the corridor, the boy beside you dressed in tailored navy, a step too graceful to be casual.

Riku’s lips curved into a subtle, almost domineering smirk.

“Interesting,” he muttered under his breath.

Beside him, his friend Ryo raised a brow. “What’s interesting?”

“Nothing,” Ryo replied smoothly, not even looking away at first. But just before turning the corner, he stole one final glance at you.

Nothing? Maybe.

But something about the way his gaze lingered said otherwise.

You felt it.

That unmistakable prickle at the back of your neck—the weight of a gaze. It ghosted across your spine, subtle and fleeting, but just enough to make you pause mid-step and glance over your shoulder.

But all you saw was a sea of students. Some rushing past, backpacks bouncing; others laughing by the walls, huddled in small circles or checking their phones. Nothing out of place. No one looking directly at you.

Still, the unease lingered for a moment longer.

“What's wrong?” Ni-ki’s voice broke through your thoughts, low and close. He slowed beside you, his grip on your hand never loosening.

Ni-ki raised a brow, gaze sweeping the crowd behind you like a quiet scan of the perimeter. Nothing suspicious. Nothing obvious.

“I guess not,” you added quickly, brushing it off with a shrug and a laugh you hoped sounded convincing.

But he didn’t look convinced. Instead, he pursed his lips and subtly tugged you closer, your shoulders now brushing as the two of you rounded the next corner. His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand. Typical Ni-ki.

Soon, the familiar tall double doors of the student council room came into view. The polished brass handles gleamed under the soft overhead lighting, and without hesitation, Ni-ki pushed one open with his free hand.

“Heads up, we’re back,” he called casually, his voice echoing through the large, lively room.

The scent of paper, fresh markers, and leftover milk tea lingered in the air. You followed him in, waving and smiling at your fellow council members as some of them perked up at your arrival.

But it wasn’t just your usual group inside.

“Oh, hey!” Jungwon spotted you immediately, waving with one hand as he held a stack of mood boards in the other. “We’re running through venue layouts. Heeseung’s idea.”

Heeseung grinned from across the room. “Tell me that stage arch idea isn’t genius.”

You let out a laugh. “You just wanted an excuse to use the stocked-up fairy lights.”

“Guilty,” he said with a wink.

Ni-ki gently nudged you toward his desk. “Sit for a bit. I’ll be back in a sec, I just need to give Jungwon the notes Sunoo sent earlier.”

You gave him a soft nod, settling into his chair. His scent lingered faintly in the fabric—subtle amberwood and something comfortably warm. Familiar.

From where you sat, you watched as Ni-ki approached Jungwon, his posture already changing into that cool-headed, smooth council member. He was efficient, already pulling up something on his tablet and pointing to a section as he spoke.

Jungwon nodded along seriously, the first years leaning in curiously.

You sat there with your chin propped on your hand, watching the boy who walked you through crowds without flinching, who noticed when your steps slowed, who carried your bag without needing to be asked.

Ni-ki stood tall in front of Jungwon, gesturing toward a tablet with his usual confidence, mouth moving with explanation, brows slightly furrowed. He was the very definition of composed. So focused. So steady. So stupidly gorgeous.

Your heart sighed in your chest. You were so gone.

Suddenly, the office chair beside you screeched lightly against the floor as someone dragged it over, snapping you out of your trance. Heeseung’s mate plopped down beside you, elbow already digging playfully into your ribs.

“Babes,” she whispered with a mischievous smile, “you’re drooling.”

You blinked. “I am so not.”

She grinned wider. “I’m kidding. But seriously—aren’t they dreamy?” She let out a wistful sigh, eyes drifting across the room toward Heeseung, who was now helping a first year tape something onto a board.

You followed her gaze, then looked back at Ni-ki.

And God, was she right.

The way his hair fell just slightly over his forehead, how he nodded as Jungwon spoke, the way he held the tablet with one hand and pocketed the other—all of it so clean, so infuriatingly attractive.

He looked like he was born to be in control of any room he stepped in, and yet still found time to hold your hand and tuck your hair behind your ear like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your voice softer than you meant it to be. “He really is.”

He turned slightly then—Ni-ki—glancing your way just for a heartbeat. His eyes found yours instantly, and though his expression didn’t change much, the faintest twitch of his lips told you he’d caught you staring.

You looked away, heat creeping up your neck.

“God,” you muttered.

Your friend giggled, nudging your arm. “I heard you owe us a full girls’ day soon? I need to hear everything.”

You groaned. “I know, I know. I’ll make time.”

You groaned dramatically, sinking into the chair. “I know, I know. I’ll make time.”

“Good,” she grinned, “Because I want nothing held back.”

Before you could respond, the soft click of shoes against the tile drew your attention—Ni-ki, walking toward the two of you with his tablet in hand and that ever-so-slight tilt of his head that somehow managed to look both intimidating and soft.

He placed the tablet down on his desk, and without a second thought, you reached out and pulled it toward yourself with a little hum.

“You’re just gonna steal my stuff like that?” Ni-ki laughed under his breath, clearly amused.

“You left it unattended,” you replied with a teasing smirk. “Finders keepers.”

He rolled his eyes playfully and—without so much as a word—gathered both your bag and his in one effortless swing onto his shoulder. The sheer ease with which he did that made your heart lurch stupidly in your chest.

“You ready?” he asked, already reaching his free hand out to you.

You nodded, springing up from the chair. Before leaving, you leaned down and quickly hugged the older Omega still seated beside you.

“I’ll text you,” you promised her, and she nodded with a soft smile, waving you off.

Ni-ki’s hand found yours as soon as you stepped away, his fingers immediately interlacing with yours like it was instinct.

“Bye, everyone,” he called over his shoulder to the rest of the council members, voice calm and cool.

A chorus of goodbyes followed you two out, but you barely heard them—too busy watching the way Ni-ki, with one arm entirely full, pushed open the heavy double doors of the student council room with his occupied hand.

You didn’t even bother to hide your awe.

‘Pureblooded Alphas and their enhanced everything’, you thought, internally swooning. ‘Strength, posture, presence… unfair.’

“Stop staring,” Ni-ki murmured, amusement curling into his voice as you stepped into the hallway together.

“I wasn’t,” you said far too quickly, looking away.

“You were.”

You pouted, bumping your shoulder lightly into his arm. “Can you blame me? That door is heavy.”

Ni-ki chuckled under his breath, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You love it,” you quipped, finally grinning at him.

His eyes softened as he glanced sideways at you, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I really do.”

“Come on,” Ni-ki said after a second, giving your hand a gentle tug. “Let’s go. I need to get you back home.”

You followed his lead without resistance, your steps falling into rhythm with his as the two of you strolled through the campus grounds.

The late afternoon sun spilled golden light across the halls, casting warm reflections on the marble tiles and polished banisters. No matter how many times you walked these paths, it always felt unreal—like stepping through the corridors of a palace instead of a university.

The high ceilings, intricate moldings, glass-paneled walls, and art pieces lining the hallways—it all whispered of old money and quiet power. It was regal, poised, a reminder of the world you both belonged to but never quite stopped marveling at.

Your hand remained in Ni-ki’s the entire way. He kept your pace slow, unrushed, like he was soaking in the last light of the day with you in it. And when you finally exited the last hall and stepped into the quiet of the private parking lot reserved only for high-ranking council members and purebloods, you immediately spotted his sleek, obsidian-black car resting under the shade.

Ni-ki reached into his coat pocket for his keys, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. The locks clicked with a soft beep, headlights blinking awake.

You instinctively moved a step forward, already lifting your hand to open the passenger side when—

“Uh-uh.” He tsked, stepping in front of you with a disapproving shake of his head. His tall frame blocked your path as he swung the door open himself. “Nope. Not gonna happen.”

You blinked. “What? I can open the door myself.”

Ni-ki scoffed, one brow raising as he leaned slightly against the frame. “You could. But why would you? I’m right here.”

You let out a soft, amused laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re spoiled,” he shot back with a smirk. “Get in.”

You climbed in, still shaking your head, but your heart was fluttering stupidly inside your chest. As he closed the door behind you with a soft thud and walked around to the driver’s side, you couldn't help but whisper under your breath:

“God, I’m in trouble.”

The drive home should’ve taken twenty minutes, thirty tops. But the universe clearly had other plans.

You were twenty minutes into sitting in the exact same spot, cars barely crawling in front of you, the setting sun starting to disappear behind the tall city skyline.

Horns honked in the far distance, but inside the car, the atmosphere remained surprisingly calm—thanks to the soft instrumental playing from the speakers, and Ni-ki's steady presence beside you. His hand remained loosely draped on the steering wheel, the other resting by the gear shift, fingers tapping along to the beat. He looked completely unbothered.

You, however, were ready to scream into a pillow.

You shifted in your seat, sighing dramatically. Your legs tucked up slightly, cheek leaning against the window for a beat before you slowly turned to him with a pout.

“Riki,” you called softly.

He hummed immediately, head turning just slightly toward you, attention drawn like a magnet. “Yes?” he asked, already half-smiling. “What do you need?”

“Your bag please.”

Ni-ki reached to the backseat with one arm, blindly finding his bag—and pulled the leather messenger forward, placing it gently on your lap.

“Thank you,” you muttered, zipping it open quickly. You rummaged through the neatly organized contents, until you found what you were looking for—his tablet. You held it up, already grinning. “What’s your password?”

He didn’t even blink. “Your birthday.”

You paused, staring at him. “…Really?”

Ni-ki shrugged, eyes still scanning the road. “Yeah. Who else am I putting there?”

You blinked, once, then twice, warmth rushing to your cheeks like a wave crashing hard against the shore. You tried to laugh it off, biting your lip to contain the squeal rising in your throat.

“Oh my god, you’re such a sap.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said without missing a beat.

You typed in the digits, heart thudding just a bit faster as the screen unlocked instantly. Inside were his neatly categorized folders, color-coded schedules, council documents, and photos—some of which were clearly candid shots of you he must’ve taken when you weren’t looking.

You were just about to tap on a game—something mindless to kill time—when Ni-ki cleared his throat softly. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to snap your attention away from the screen.

Your head tilted curiously, and before you could ask, his hand slid gently over your knee—warm, a little clammy. It made your stomach flip.

His eyes stayed on the road ahead for a second longer before he finally glanced at you, lashes low, expression unreadable except for the slight flush on his cheeks.

“So…” he started, his voice low. “I got you something. A few days ago.”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “You… what?”

Your fingers stilled on the tablet, and you immediately powered it off, placing it gently on your lap as you turned your full attention to him.

Ni-ki shifted slightly in his seat, clearing his throat again as he reached to the space behind your legs, fingers curling around the strap of the bag that had been sitting there quietly this entire time.

“I mean, I know the engagement’s already official,” he continued, voice softer now, almost sheepish. “And technically our families already made this a thing… but I just—” He hesitated, pulling the bag into his lap. “I wanted to do something special. Something that’s from me, not them.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. Your heart was pounding so hard you could barely hear anything over it.

He unzipped the top compartment slowly, fingers moving with care, before he pulled out a velvet box the color of deep plum—luxurious and heavy in his palm, the gold trim glinting faintly in the warm tones of the setting sun streaming through the windshield.

“Riki…” you whispered.

He didn’t look at you right away. Instead, he stared at the box in his hand like it was the most terrifying thing he’s ever held.

“It’s not… like, this isn’t the final one or anything,” he mumbled quickly, clearly flustered. “Like—there’s going to be a formal one from both families, I know that. But I just thought… I wanted to give you something that actually felt like me.”

You watched, wide-eyed, tears already stinging at the corners of your vision.

“I designed it with one of my mom’s jewelers,” he rambled, nervously rubbing his thumb along the edge. “I remembered you said you preferred white gold over silver, and I just—I didn’t want it to be something generic. You deserve more than that. And I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Jay. I just… it’s for you.”

And then, gently, he opened the box.

Inside sat a four-carat princess-cut diamond, perched delicately in a crown of white gold that shimmered even under the dimming light. The edges were sharp and elegant, the center gem catching every last bit of sunlight that filtered through the car windows, scattering tiny rainbows across the dashboard.

It was the most stunning ring you’d ever seen in your life.

“Riki,” you whispered, hand flying to your mouth as tears welled in your eyes, “oh my god…”

He finally looked at you—really looked at you—eyes flickering with something tender and raw.

“I know it’s a lot,” he said quickly, almost breathless. “You don’t have to wear it all the time, or even now—I just… I wanted you to have something that came from me. Something that says this isn’t just a deal, or arrangement, or whatever they want to call it.”

He took a shaky breath, “This is me loving you. This is me choosing you.”

“You idiot,” you sniffled, laughing through the tears as you leaned forward to press your forehead to his. “You’re gonna kill me one day with this softness.”

He smiled then, a little crooked and a lot nervous. “Is that a yes?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” you whispered, lips brushing his as your hands curled around his wrist.

Ni-ki’s breath caught for a split second. Then, slowly, he pulled back—not far, just enough to see your face clearly as his eyes softened.

He leaned in first to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, tender and grounding. Then, without a word, he reached back into the velvet box and carefully lifted the ring between his fingers. You held out your hand, heart hammering in your chest, and watched as he gently slid it onto your ring finger.

It fit perfectly.

He held your hand up, studying the way the white gold caught the last rays of sun, before turning it palm-up and pressing a kiss right to the center.

But his eyes—his eyes flickered, for a moment, from your hand to your lips. It was quick, instinctive, and he caught himself, biting down the beginning of a smile as if to stop himself from getting carried away.

Except you were already gone.

You surged forward, cupping his face with both hands as you kissed him—deep, slow, entirely without hesitation.

He gasped softly into your mouth at the suddenness of it, but his body moved without delay. One of his hands flew to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you in, closer, closer still.

The other, still warm from holding the ring, found its place on your jaw before sliding down—knuckles dragging across your neck, his wrist instinctively brushing over your scent gland.

You felt the warmth immediately—the heady pull of his Alpha instincts scenting you, marking you as his. It was possessive and sweet and made your head swim in the best way.

He deepened the kiss, lips parting against yours as he breathed you in like he was starved. You could feel the quiet groan in his chest, the way he smiled into it despite the intensity, how his nose nudged yours between breaths.

When you both finally pulled away, cheeks flushed, breaths uneven, your eyes fluttered open—and you burst out laughing.

“Riki,” you giggled, brushing your thumb across his bottom lip, “my lip gloss.”

It was smudged across his mouth—shiny and sticky, definitely not part of the plan. He blinked once, cross-eyed trying to see it, before snorting and dragging the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Worth it,” he said, laughing as well, eyes crinkling. “I’d wear the whole tube if it means I get to kiss you like that.”

You grinned, still breathless, still glowing as you looked down at your hand.

“I love you,” you murmured.

“I know,” he whispered, brushing his nose against your cheek. “And I’ll keep making sure you do. Every single day.”

The early morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the council room, golden and soft as it kissed the scattered papers across your desk. You sat in perfect silence, tucked neatly into Ni-ki’s seat, scribbling down final revisions for the Memory Garden exhibit.

Outside, the campus was slowly stirring awake, but inside the council wing, it was quiet save for the scratch of your pen and the gentle hum of the old air conditioning unit above. A bottle of strawberry milk sat opened beside you, halfway empty, condensation dripping down the sides.

You checked the time—again.

Ni-ki had been in the second-floor meeting room for almost an hour now, probably discussing final security layouts with faculty heads. You sighed and took another small sip of your milk, lips curving slightly as your gaze wandered down to your hand.

A soft creak sounded as the double doors swung open.

Your heart skipped, already expecting the tall frame of your fiancé—but instead, in walked Jungwon’s mate, her long cardigan trailing behind her, followed closely by Heeseung’s mate, who was already sipping from a bubble tea cup and chatting animatedly.

“Oh,” Jungwon’s mate smiled when she spotted you, “good morning!”

“Hey,” you greeted, straightening in your seat as they made their way across the room. “You guys done with the booth line-ups?”

“Almost,” Heeseung’s mate chirped, settling herself onto her boyfriend’s desk like it was second nature. “We just wanted to double-check which spots were going to get extra lights.”

“I think Ni-ki has the lighting chart,” you replied. “He should be back soon.”

Jungwon’s mate had just pulled out a pastel highlighter when her eyes drifted—slow, curious, and calculating—towards your hand. She blinked once.

Then a second time.

“Wait.” She leaned forward, voice suddenly laced with amusement. “Since when did you wear rings?”

Eyes wide, you looked down almost comically slow, only to find the glimmering four-carat diamond engagement ring proudly catching the sunlight on your ring finger.

“Oh,” you stammered, a smile tugging at your lips that you didn’t even try to hide. “Right. Um.”

Heeseung’s mate gasped—loudly and dramatically. “You’re joking!”

“Nope,” you whispered, the flush crawling up your cheeks.

Jungwon’s Omega leaned across the table, eyes wide. “When did this happen?!”

“Last night,” you murmured, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “Well—we’ve been officially engaged for a while but Ni-ki… he wanted to give me something more personal, so… he gave me this.”

Heeseung’s mate squealed. “He gave you a diamond that could pay off half the dorm’s tuition, that’s what he did.”

“God,” Jungwon’s mate breathed, staring at your hand like it held the key to the universe. “He really said ‘rich Alpha fiancé’ and meant it.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. “It’s not even the size—it’s just… he remembered. About the white gold. I’ve always preferred it over silver, and he just—he remembered.”

Both girls melted instantly.

Heeseung’s mate wiggled her brows. “I wanna see how he reacts when I casually bring this up later.”

You rolled your eyes fondly just as the door creaked open again—and this time, the familiar sound of long, confident strides echoed into the room. Your eyes met Ni-ki’s the moment he walked in, his gaze instantly softening.

Ni-ki didn’t say a word as he stepped fully into the room, the heavy council door clicking shut behind him with a soft thud. His lips curled up into that familiar, quiet smile—warm, content, just for you.

He didn’t even hesitate as he grabbed the extra chair from the corner, dragging it beside his desk without a word and lowering himself into it. His hand found your thigh immediately, his fingers warm as they curled there like second nature.

Heeseung’s Omega let out a loud, dramatic sniffle from where she sat cross-legged on her boyfriend’s desk.

“My babies are so big now,” she said, fanning her face like she might cry. “Engaged. Mature. In love. What is this character development?”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, glancing at her with a scrunched nose, heat crawling up your neck. “Shut up. You’re literally graduating next semester.”

“Exactly!” she gasped, like you’d proved her point. “I’ll be gone! Out! No longer here to babysit you two lovebirds through your pining era!”

Jungwon’s mate laughed. “She’s acting like she’s your honorary parent.”

“She basically is,” you muttered with a snort, glancing sideways at Ni-ki.

Ni-ki didn’t say much—but the twitch of his lips and the light squeeze on your thigh said enough.

“She’s gonna cry at the wedding,” you added with a grin.

“Oh, I know.” Ni-ki smiled, soft and sincere, his gaze brushing across your face before dropping down—just for a second—to the ring still proudly sitting on your finger.

Your heart flipped again.

Jungwon’s mate groaned, clutching her chest. “God, you guys are worse than the dating sims.”

Heeseung’s mate fake-wiped a tear. “I love love.”

The festival had barely started and already the entire campus buzzed with energy—music playing from the central speakers, booths lining every garden path, and students buzzing with excitement. But inside the council room, things were calm, coordinated, and surprisingly smooth.

You adjusted the hem of the special council jersey you wore, proud to see everyone in matching ones. It was a sleek design—clean white with navy trimmings, the council seal on the chest, and your last names and jersey numbers printed on the back. It gave the high-ranking members and committee heads a fun sense of unity.

You were leaned over the long desk with Sunghoon, pointing at the final set of posters and promotional banners laid out on the screen in front of you.

“Make sure the font size on the event time is consistent across all materials,” you reminded, fingers tracing over the preview.

Sunghoon nodded, typing away at his tablet. “Got it. I’ll send it to the other committee heads to approve within the hour. The graphics team’s been working nonstop.”

“Tell them they did amazing,” you said genuinely, handing him a clipboard just as someone approached from behind.

Jake’s mate, graceful and always so polished, stepped between the two of you and handed Sunghoon a folder.

“Final checklist for the broadcast schedules—”

But she stopped mid-sentence, her sharp eyes catching something shiny as you reached over to adjust the folder in Sunghoon’s hands.

She gasped. Loudly. Audibly.

“Oh my god—” Her hands immediately flew to her mouth, her eyes locked onto your left hand like it was glowing. “Is that what I think it is?!”

Jake, who had been halfway across the room teasing Jungwon, blinked and appeared next to her in under two seconds. “What happened? What—are you okay?”

“She’s engaged,” she whispered, pointing, like she’d just uncovered national treasure. “She’s actually engaged.”

You tried, really tried, to hold it in—but a laugh bubbled up from your chest, and you bit down a grin. With the whole room turning toward you, conversations pausing mid-sentence, you slowly raised your hand and wiggled your fingers just a bit.

“Surprise,” you said sweetly, trying not to laugh at the stunned faces around the room.

Jay looked up from his notes, mouth hanging open. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p.’

Ni-ki’s laugh rang from the corner where he’d been joking around with Jay. “Why do you all look like I dropped a bomb?” he said, casually pushing himself off the table.

The second he reached you, his arm wrapped around your waist like it belonged there. You leaned into him instinctively, and his hand rested against your lower back with ease, protective—his.

“She’s mine now,” he added with a grin, resting his chin briefly against your temple, “legally and everything. Well… almost.”

Jake's mate blinked back into focus. “You proposed and didn’t even tell us?! That’s betrayal.”

“It just happened recently,” you said with a little shrug, your tone playful. “We weren’t keeping it a secret—we just weren’t broadcasting it.”

“Well, you’re glowing,” she said, absolutely beaming now.

“Can we expect wedding invitations by the semester’s end?” Sunghoon asked, one brow raised.

Ni-ki chuckled, gently tugging your hand into his. “Let’s get through the festival first.”

“Fair,” Jungwon said, already tapping a note into his phone, probably to remind himself to plan a small celebration party later.

And as the room slipped back into laughter and chatter—plans resuming, papers passed around again—you glanced up at Ni-ki. His smile hadn’t dimmed once since he’d walked to your side.

He was still looking at you like you hung the stars, his fingers brushing soft circles along your waist through the fabric of your jersey.

“Heads up, everybody!” Heeseung’s voice rang out, loud and commanding with a grin that always bordered on too smug. “We’re being called down. Everyone’s expected at the open field in ten!”

He stood tall at the front, already wearing his own customized jersey with ‘LEE 01’ stitched proudly on the back. His mate, now standing beside him with her hands on her hips, looked equally ready.

“You heard him!” she echoed, clapping her hands twice. “Let’s move, council!”

Groans and chatter broke out instantly.

“Already?” Sunghoon muttered, closing his tablet with a sigh.

“I just got comfortable,” Jake added with mock offense as he pulled his mate by the hand. “We better get VIP seats for this.”

“You’re literally a main host,” she said with a smirk.

Ni-ki gave you a look, and you nodded, squeezing his hand before gathering your notes and the council event checklist you had on clipboards.

“Let’s go, Mrs. Nishimura,” Ni-ki murmured just low enough for you to hear.

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he replied with a wink, leaning in to whisper near your ear, “because soon it won’t just be a tease.”

You laughed under your breath, nudging him playfully as the two of you filed out of the room with the others, the energy rising with every step.

Downstairs, you could already hear the buzz of students gathering in the open field—the beat of opening music pulsing through the ground, the smell of festival food lingering in the air, and a sky turning the softest shade of peach as sunrise approached.

The open field was surrounded by colorful banners, vendor stalls, booths still covered with tarp, and string lights that would glow brighter as the sun climbed higher.

Right at the front stood the student council members, lined up neatly in front of the stage. Each of them wore their custom jersey-style shirts: bold white with navy stripes along the sleeves, a subtle emblem of the Decelis crest stitched on the chest, and their last names and numbers proudly printed across the back. The committee heads stood right next to them—ironically, or maybe by fate, every single one was a mate to a council member.

Jungwon stepped up first, grabbing the mic like he was born for this. He tapped it twice, then once more for good measure. “Testing—okay, I think we’re good—HELLO, DECELIS!”

Laughter and cheers erupted across the field. He grinned, running a hand through his already messy hair, clearly overwhelmed and giddy.

“Welcome to this year’s Spring Festival!” he called out, voice carrying across the speakers.

“You guys have no idea how hard everyone’s worked on this. From the committee heads, the student council, the design and logistics teams, our sponsors—everyone poured their hearts into this.”

“But!” he held up a finger dramatically. “Don’t forget to drink water. That sun is not playing games.”

“Real,” Sunghoon said, stepping up to his side with a smirk as he took the mic. “We don’t want anyone fainting before the fireworks, okay? The health tent’s right by the main gate. If you’re not sure what you’re eating, ask. If you need help, shout. If you see Sunoo running around—it’s probably because something exploded.”

“Hey!” Sunoo cut in, laughing as he reached out for the mic. “That happened once.”

“And we never let you live it down,” Jake chimed in, taking the mic from him smoothly. “But seriously, we’re here to have fun and keep each other safe. Be kind, don’t litter, stay hydrated, and maybe don’t eat all seven food booth specialties in one sitting.”

Heeseung shook his head, the crowd laughing as he waved. “Alright, alright. Guys—this week is ours. This festival is for us. So let’s make it count. Let’s make it loud. Let’s make it worth remembering.”

“And,” Jay added, stepping forward as he gave a short nod to the crowd, “if you happen to win any of the competitive events—you're welcome. I designed most of them.”

“Delusional,” Sunghoon muttered, and laughter followed.

Then Ni-ki stepped forward, his hand casually wrapping around your waist. He reached for the mic with an easy smile. “One last thing—on behalf of all of us here… thank you. For trusting us to do this. We’re proud to bring this to life for you.”

With that, Jungwon lifted his hand dramatically and shouted, “Hit the music!”

And just like that—the speakers boomed back to life. The first beat of the opening anthem shook the ground. Confetti cannons launched into the sky, showering the field with gold and white strips as the crowd erupted into cheers again.

The kitchen was warm with activity—ovens humming, trays clinking, the scent of freshly baked vanilla and strawberry wafting through the air. Laughter echoed between you and Sunghoon’s mate as you both leaned over a large tray of cupcakes, carefully piping soft pink frosting onto each one.

You wore a matching pastel pink apron, loosely tied around your waist over your jersey. The name printed on the back peeked out through the flour-dusted ribbon. Frosting stained your fingers, and you giggled when Sunghoon’s mate accidentally flicked a small swirl onto your cheek.

“Oops! You moved!”

“You liar, you aimed for me!” you laughed, swiping a dollop of icing from your finger and smearing it lightly on her nose. She gasped.

The two of you dissolved into another fit of laughter, the kind of warmth that made the kitchen feel like a home rather than part of the school.

But then it happened—suddenly and purely by accident.

One of the younger Beta students came rushing in with a bowl of scrambled eggs, probably meant for one of the breakfast-themed booths. She turned too quickly, slipped slightly on a patch of flour on the floor, and collided right into you.

The bowl tilted, warm scrambled eggs spilling out—half of it splattered across the front of your apron and jersey.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)!” the Beta girl gasped, panicked. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—are you okay?!”

You blinked, frozen for half a second. You looked down at the now egg-stained pink apron and the yellow smudge across your shirt.

Sunghoon’s mate clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

You looked at the girl and gave her a soft smile. “It’s okay. Accidents happen.”

“I—I swear I didn’t mean to, I was trying to get to the front—”

“I know,” you said again, gently patting her shoulder. “Breathe. I promise it’s fine.”

But of course, Sunghoon’s mate wasn’t about to let it go that easily.

“Oh no, no no no, you are not walking out there looking like someone’s breakfast!” she fussed, already trying to untie your apron strings. “We are fixing this right now—hold still—do you feel warm? Is that egg hot?!”

“It’s warm but not tragic,” you replied with a sigh, still amused. “I’m more worried about smelling like a hotel buffet for the rest of the day.”

That’s when a head peeked through the kitchen door.

You blinked, surprised. “Riku?”

Riku—the tall, well-mannered Alpha from your business class—stepped into view, brow furrowed as his eyes immediately scanned your form. His gaze dropped to the egg-stained jersey, apron dangling off one arm now, and his eyes widened.

“Wait, what happened? Are you alright?” he asked, already making his way across the kitchen.

You opened your mouth to explain, but Riku beat you to it, tone shifting to something more worried. “Did you get hurt? Was something hot? That looks—wait—here, hold on.” He shrugged off the light tote bag on his shoulder, digging inside.

“I’m okay,” you said softly, cheeks pink from the sudden attention from everyone. “It was just scrambled eggs.”

He didn’t seem convinced. “Still. You shouldn’t walk around like that.” He pulled out a black shirt, folded and clean. “I brought a couple extras just in case anyone needed one at the stalls. Here.”

He held it out to you, gaze steady.

You hesitated before gently taking it. “Thank you, Riku. You really didn’t have to.”

He just smiled—polite, almost a little proud. “Can’t have one of our business partners presenting a marketing pitch smelling like breakfast.”

You let out a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “That pitch was last week.”

“And yet you’re still doing all the work,” he chuckled. “Come on—there should be a few changing rooms scattered around the building. I’ll help you find one.”

You looked at him, a little reluctant. “Riku, really—”

“I insist,” he said kindly. “You shouldn’t have to walk around covered in eggs.”

You sighed, but gave in. “Alright.”

The two of you walked down the hallway, your shoes softly tapping against the tiled floors. Light conversation drifted between you—mostly about the festival booths, how crowded the quad was getting, and whether or not the matcha latte stand was open yet.

You turned the corner together, barely a few hallways away from the baking booth, when a familiar voice cut through the hallway.

“(Y/N)?!”

You both stopped in your tracks.

Ni-ki.

He was jogging toward you, urgency in every step, worry painted all over his face. Sunoo’s mate trailed closely behind him, eyes equally wide, the hem of her skirt slightly lifted from the run.

You didn’t even get a chance to call out his name before he reached you.

“Are you okay?” Ni-ki asked quickly, hands immediately reaching out to brush your hair behind your shoulder and scan your expression. His hand hovered over your side, thumb brushing against the egg-stained jersey. “Someone said you got splattered—was it hot? Did it burn you? Where are you hurt?”

His voice was low but fast, almost breathless. That Alpha panic—protective—was setting in fast.

“I’m okay,” you said softly, blinking up at him. “It was just scrambled eggs. No burns.”

You couldn’t help it—your eyes drifted down to take him in. His usual council jersey was unbuttoned now, hanging loose like a flannel over a fitted black shirt. The thin fabric clung perfectly to his torso, the edge of his silver chains dangling near the embroidery on the jersey—his last name glinting with every move he made. He looked undone, slightly winded, flushed from the quick run, but still every bit of Alpha—sharp and soft in the same breath.

Your breath caught. “You—um.”

Riku scoffed lightly beside you, like Ni-ki’s presence was hardly worth the effort of acknowledgment.

“She’s okay, Nishimura,” he said smoothly, voice laced with something that made your pulse jump. “I was just helping her find a place to change. That’s all.”

Ni-ki’s gaze slid to the Alpha beside you, his body going still in that way only a pureblood could manage. His jaw ticked once, tight. Controlled. But his eyes were sharp.

Riku’s tone wasn’t defensive. No. It was confident—possessive, even. Like he was deliberately poking the bear.

“I see,” he muttered, voice low and flat.

You stepped in quickly, hoping to smooth the crackling air. “Thank you, Riku,” you said, offering a small, polite smile—your version of a peace offering.

But Riku didn’t take it.

“Of course,” he said, but there was no warmth in it. His eyes dragged back to Ni-ki, not even pretending anymore. “Wouldn’t want you partner walking around smelling like breakfast.”

The emphasis wasn’t lost on anyone.

Ni-ki took a step closer—not to Riku, but to you. His arm slid around your waist, tugging you gently, yet firmly, into his side despite the mess on your jersey. It wasn’t just about comfort.

It was a claim.

He raised a single brow, eyes flicking to where Ni-ki’s hand now rested on your waist. “Relax,” Riku said, voice smooth, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “She’s not property, Nishimura.”

Ni-ki’s gaze darkened instantly, pupils sharpening. His hand on you tightened—not to hurt, but enough that you could feel the heat behind his restraint. A growl threatened at the edge of his throat, barely muffled as he exhaled hard through his nose.

You looked between them, confused, lips parting slightly. The tension was suffocating. You couldn’t figure out if this was some long-standing grudge or if something had just snapped into place between them—but neither Alpha was backing down.

Then Ni-ki’s attention dropped. To the black shirt in your hands.

His nose twitched once. The change in his expression was instant—something in him turning cold and bitter. His fingers uncurled from your waist just long enough to yank the shirt from your grasp with a sharp pull.

Without a word, he shoved it against Riku’s chest. Not enough to knock him off balance, but enough to send a message.

“Keep your shirt, yeah?” Ni-ki said lowly, tone flat—but the words hit hard. The double meaning echoed, more territorial than anything you’d ever heard from him.

Riku caught the shirt with ease, but the cocky smile never left his face. He let out a short, almost mocking chuckle, like the whole thing had gone exactly how he wanted.

“No worries,” he said, turning on his heel without so much as a glance back. “Let me know if she changes her mind.”

You watched him disappear toward the booth, slow and confident, his hand swinging the shirt casually at his side like it meant nothing.

You turned to say something, but the moment was cut short by the sound of hurried footsteps and a familiar voice weaving through the crowd.

“There you are!” Sunoo’s mate huffed, coming into view between clusters of students. “Ni-ki, I’m so sorry—I lost you in the crowd.”

Her tone was breathless and apologetic, eyes flicking quickly from him to you, landing immediately on the mess staining your jersey.

“Oh no—(Y/N)!” she gasped, hands flying up to her mouth. “I’m so sorry, I panicked earlier. I didn’t even think to grab you an extra shirt—I just ran off to try and find Ni-ki.”

You blinked at her, heart still half-tangled in the moment that just passed, but you shook it off quickly, offering her a gentle smile.

“It’s okay, really,” you said, voice soft. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I still feel awful,” she said with a sheepish wince, cheeks tinged pink. “But I’m here now! I’ll cover your shift for a bit. You look like you need a second.”

She gave your shoulder a warm squeeze, eyes full of guilt and kindness all at once. You opened your mouth to say thank you, but she was already taking a step back, waving quickly with both hands.

“I’ll be in the booth! Go breathe for a bit!”

And just like that, she disappeared into the same direction Riku had gone.

Ni-ki let out a slow breath beside you, the weight of it settling on his shoulders. He didn’t say anything—just gently tugged on your hand, his fingers curling tighter around yours like he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon.

You followed him wordlessly, walking through the sea of students that still buzzed and laughed, unaware of the whirlwind in your chest. The crowd thinned the farther you walked, voices fading into background hums. Your steps fell into rhythm with his, the hallways quieter now, lined with paper signs and festival flyers starting to peel off the walls.

Eventually, the two of you turned a corner into the academy’s left wing—quieter, shaded, the buzz of activity distant now. Only a few students lingered around, mostly lounging near the walls with drinks in hand, too caught up in their own chatter to notice the tension wrapped around your frame.

You blinked up at Ni-ki, about to ask what you were even supposed to change into, when—

He pulled his hand from yours.

And then, without a word, he peeled his jersey off in one smooth motion. The fabric slipped from his frame effortlessly, revealing the black shirt underneath—thin and slightly loose, the edge of one silver chain glinting against his collarbone. You barely registered the way your throat dried.

He held the jersey out to you, arm outstretched. “Here,” he said simply.

You froze. “Wait… Riki—”

“It’s clean,” he said, gaze soft but unreadable. “And it’s mine.”

The fabric in his hands—the same one that had clung to his skin all day, soaked in his scent, threaded with something warmer now that it was being offered so suddenly. Not just for comfort. Not just out of convenience.

Your hands twitched at your sides, unsure of what to do. Panic sparked up your spine, but it wasn’t fear. It was something else—something warmer, messier.

“Are you sure?” you managed, voice small. “I don’t want you to get in trouble or—”

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t sure,” he replied, quiet but firm.

You slowly reached out, brushing your fingers against the edge of the jersey. The moment it touched your skin, you felt the difference—the heat still trapped in the fabric, the unmistakable pull of Alpha scent that made your heart do something wild and unsteady.

He watched you for a moment—like he could see all the thoughts tumbling in your head and didn’t mind waiting for you to sort through them.

“Change inside,” he said finally, his voice dipping a little, eyes flicking to the booth behind you. “I’ll wait right here.”

You nodded slowly—wordlessly—the jersey pressed tightly to your chest like it might slip away if you didn’t hold it hard enough. You stepped into the small booth, the curtain falling shut behind you with a soft swoosh.

The space was dimly lit, just a single overhead bulb flickering above, casting shaky shadows along the metal frame. You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, heart thundering in your ears.

Carefully, you reached for the hem of your stained jersey, fingers brushing over the ring on your finger—Ni-ki’s ring—worn on a chain for safekeeping. You adjusted it gently, making sure it didn’t tug or catch.

Your hands trembled just a little as you peeled your own jersey off, careful with the fabric even though it was ruined. And then you held up his—still warm from his skin, still heavy with the scent of him.

The moment you pulled it over your head, your Omega curled warmly inside you like a contented sigh. It was too big—his scent immediately wrapping around your frame like a second skin, sinking deep into the crook of your neck, down your spine, and blooming in your chest.

You were wearing something that was his, and your body knew it.

When you stepped out again, Ni-ki was leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed loosely. His gaze had been fixed somewhere else, distant—jaw still tense from earlier—but the second he looked up and saw you, something shifted.

The irritation melted right out of his eyes, his arms dropped to his sides slowly, uncrossing as he straightened up.

You looked shyly at him from under your lashes, fingers fidgeting with the hem of the oversized jersey that nearly swallowed your hands.

“I… I’m done,” you mumbled, biting the inside of your cheek.

Ni-ki didn’t answer, he just stared.

Like he’d never seen you before. Like he’d forgotten what he was angry about—what he was supposed to care about at all—because there you were, standing in his jersey like it was always meant for you. The sight hit him with a force stronger than any punch. Stronger than the stupid bitterness he’d been trying to swallow since earlier.

You looked like his—and he couldn’t pretend that didn’t matter.

He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing, gaze trailing down the fit of the jersey on your frame. It clung to the edges of your shoulders, hit mid-thigh, sleeves way too long—but that was the best part. It looked right on you. Too right.

His voice, when it came, was quiet—almost a whisper.

“Come here.”

You blinked up at him, eyes wide, but your feet moved before you could think. And the second you were close enough, Ni-ki reached out and wrapped his arms around you—pulling you in like he didn’t plan to let go for a while.

You melted instantly.

The jersey was warm between you, the weight of him familiar as you pressed your cheek to his chest. He was solid, heartbeat steady beneath your ear, the rise and fall of his breathing calming you more than you wanted to admit.

Your arms snuck around his waist without hesitation, fingers knotting into the back of his shirt as if they belonged there.

Ni-ki sighed—deep, relieved—and tilted his head just slightly so his lips brushed the top of your head. He lingered there for a second before placing the softest, gentlest kiss into your hairline.

“You look good, angel,” he murmured, the word curling into you like a brand.

You beamed before you could stop it. The kind of smile that bloomed without warning, the kind that pulled your whole face with it.

You shifted a little on your feet, raising up on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek—barely even reaching it, just the edge of it—but it was enough to make him laugh, full and boyish.

He let go, but only enough to reach for your hand, fingers locking through yours like instinct.

“C’mon,” he said, eyes still crinkled from the laugh. “Let’s go—”

“Wait,” you blurted, tugging him gently by the hand.

He paused, brows lifting. “What’s wrong?”

Your scent spiked sweet in the air—like raspberries melting under the harsh sunlight—and Ni-ki immediately stiffened a little, taken off guard. It was your nervous-sweet, your shy scent, and he knew it too well by now.

Your fingers fumbled into your pocket, cheeks pink, voice small. “I just—before we go…”

From your pocket, you pulled out a neatly folded pink and white handkerchief—soft cotton, dainty edges embroidered in pale thread. Your initials sat stitched into the corner, barely the size of your thumb.

Ni-ki’s gaze followed it, curious.

You looked away bashfully, rubbing the fabric gently along the inside of your wrist—just enough for your scent to soak in, for it to cling and linger. You folded it once more, carefully, and stepped closer to him. With shy, delicate fingers, you reached for one of the front belt loops on his pants and looped the cloth through it—tying it into a small bow that rested lightly against his hip.

“There,” you whispered, barely above the wind.

Ni-ki stared down at it, then at you.

His eyes softened completely, the edges of his lips curling up into something open and unguarded. “Is that for me?”

You nodded, trying not to combust on the spot. “Mhm. It’s… so you can have something scented, too.”

He smiled so widely it made your chest hurt. “You really just did that.”

You laughed softly, heart thudding way too fast as you reached out and laced your fingers through his—warm palm against yours, fingers naturally curling between your own like they were always meant to fit there.

You tugged him forward with a grin, gently pulling him back into the sunlight pooling between the banisters and the soft chatter of students echoing nearby.

“It was only fair, you know?” you said teasingly, giving his hand a playful swing as you walked. “You gave me something of yours.”

He let out a quiet hum, the corner of his mouth still quirked up. “Still,” he muttered. His free hand brushed against the little pink and white bow now fluttering slightly from his belt loop. “I’m never taking this off.”

You laughed again, cheeks blooming with warmth. “But Riki—” you tilted your head up at him, teasing, “—you have to wash it eventually.”

His face twisted in mock offense. “What? No.”

You giggled. “It’s going to get dirty.”

“But your scent will come off,” he protested, brows furrowing like a pouty kid. “I want to keep it like this.”

You laughed again, breathy and warm, giving his hand a playful squeeze. “You’re so dramatic,” you teased softly, and he gave you a mock offended look—though his fingers didn’t let go of yours for even a second.

“Come on, Mr. Scent-Obsessed,” you mumbled fondly, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “Let’s go back.”

He let out a hum, allowing you to tug him gently down the corridor, the two of you walking in no particular rush. Your pace was slow—like your own private bubble had formed, untouched by the noise of the festival still bustling around you.

You walked hand in hand, fingertips interlaced and swinging lightly between you, your head occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He let you pull him toward the direction of the booth, but neither of you were in a hurry to leave the little moment behind.

There were stares—people passing by, whispering, watching. After all, Ni-ki wasn’t the type to walk around publicly this soft, this clingy, this visibly whipped.

But he didn’t care, and neither did you.

You gave his hand a few light squeezes as you passed a group of stunned-looking underclassmen, giggling under your breath. “I think you just ruined someone’s perception of you.”

He glanced sideways at you, smirking. “Good.”

You laughed again, heart so full you couldn’t help it—you stood on your toes, leaned over, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

It barely landed—your height not quite enough and him not expecting it—but it still made his entire body still for a second.

“…You just—” he blinked, that soft pink blush spreading across his ears.

You smiled, eyes glowing. “Mhm. I did.”

He bit back a grin, exhaling hard through his nose like he couldn’t quite handle it. “You’re killing me.”

You giggled as you turned the final corner and spotted your booth coming into view.

Sunghoon’s mate perked up instantly from her place by the counter, her face lighting up in relief as she spotted you. She stepped toward you immediately.

“There you are! I was starting to think you got kidnapped or something—” her eyes raked over you once, gaze lingering on the jersey you now wore. “Wait. That’s not—oh.”

You smiled sheepishly. “I’m okay, promise. Just needed a minute.”

She glanced at Ni-ki beside you, who gave her a small wave with his free hand, the other still firmly locked around yours. The sight made her blink, lips twitching into a slow smile.

“Well,” she said, letting out a sigh. “I’ll leave you two then. You got your scent reset and everything,” she teased, stepping back toward the booth with a tiny smirk.

You gave her a grateful look before turning to Ni-ki again.

“I’ll see you later?” you asked, giving his hand one last gentle squeeze.

He smiled—soft and full of something deeper than words. “Text me if anything happens.”

You nodded, and he lifted your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before slowly letting go.

You turned back toward the booth, heart still fluttering, and just as you stepped behind the counter, you glanced back—Ni-ki was still watching you, hands tucked into his pockets, smile still etched across his lips.

The third day of the festival was in full swing, and the west wing buzzed with life. Colorful banners fluttered above head, laughter echoing through the open walkways.

Students weaved through stalls with food in hand, music playing faintly from a nearby booth, and somewhere in the distance, a karaoke machine wailed a familiar pop ballad.

You walked with Jake’s mate and Jungwon’s mate at your sides, the three of you armed with clipboards and pens, diligently checking off updates from the clubs stationed in the area. Despite the paperwork, your pace was casual and your conversations light.

“Okay, the Robotics Club extended their booth for another day,” Jungwon’s mate said, tapping her pen to the checklist.

Jake’s mate grinned. “As long as they don’t start flying drones over the food stalls again, I’m good.”

That sent you all into a quick burst of laughter.

You paused near the newly built Wedding Booth—complete with plastic flower arches, a rented velvet aisle runner, and a cardboard sign that read: "Find your potential mate, or at least look good trying!"

“I can’t believe they actually pulled this off,” you muttered, eyeing the velvet guestbook and fake rings lined neatly on the side.

“Honestly,” Jake’s mate giggled, elbowing you gently, “with how you look in that jersey, someone might just propose to you here and now.”

You blinked, caught off-guard. “What?”

Jungwon’s mate was already spinning you around dramatically, cackling. “You seriously didn’t think we’d notice? Navy blue Decelis jersey. Number ten. Nishimura stretched loud and proud on the back?”

You swatted at them playfully, heat creeping up your neck. “It was an instruction for today!”

“We were told to wear our own jerseys,” Jake’s mate pointed out, arching a brow.

You sighed, exasperated but fond. “Riki refused to wear his. Gave it to me this morning, said he’d rather see me in it than wear it himself.

Jungwon’s mate clutched her chest. “That’s so disgustingly cute I want to throw something.”

You laughed, heart fluttering. “And then he pestered Jay for a new one, with my last name on the back.”

Jake’s mate snorted. “So that’s why he was flaunting his jersey earlier—before we were called down for the parade lineup. He kept tugging at the sleeves like he was showing something off.”

“Jay refused at first but… let’s be real. He can never say no to Riki.”

“He’s basically his son,” Jungwon’s mate chuckled.

You three stopped near one of the more crowded food booths. The smoky scent of grilled chicken and barbecue skewers filled the air, and rows of sizzling meat on sticks lined the stall counters. Students gathered around, picking at fried rice, fish balls, and spicy wings stacked in paper boats.

“This smells amazing,” Jake’s mate said, leaning forward to peek at the handwritten menu.

“Remind me to get a stick before we go,” Jungwon’s mate mumbled.

You handed off your clipboard briefly. “I’ll catch up—I need to find a restroom.”

“Go ahead,” Jake’s mate waved you off. “We’ll be right here. Don’t get kidnapped by a wedding booth Alpha.”

Jungwon’s mate snorted, nudging Jake’s. “As if Ni-ki would ever let that happen.”

You laughed under your breath, shaking your head as you waved them off. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Your feet carried you in a light jog across the tiled walkway, sneakers thudding gently against the floor as you made your way to the nearest restroom nestled between the photography club’s booth and a snack corner.

The door creaked as you pushed it open, a burst of cool air greeting your warm skin. You placed your clipboard gently down on the sink counter, the paper checklist still clipped tightly in place, and turned the faucet on.

Cool water splashed against your fingers as you lathered up, the sweet scent of Ni-ki’s detergent lingering faintly on your borrowed jersey sleeves as they rolled back slightly past your elbows.

Your gaze flicked to the mirror as you leaned closer, pulling out a familiar, slightly worn tube of lip gloss from your pocket. The light pink tint shimmered faintly under the restroom lights as you applied it carefully, dabbing your lips and smacking them together once before tucking the gloss away again.

The star-shaped clips framing your face had slipped slightly with the wind, so you gently adjusted them—each little motion calming.

The door creaked open again.

Loud voices immediately followed—three, maybe four girls giggling as they poured into the restroom behind you. You didn’t think much of it at first, focused on your reflection as you fixed the hem of your jersey and reached for the clipboard again.

“You’re (Y/N), right?”

You glanced at the mirror, catching their reflection as you raised a brow at the tone—too casual, laced with just the right amount of disrespect to catch your attention. You didn’t recognize her, but her badge said she was from your year.

Still, you kept your cool.

“Yes,” you said simply, fingers curling around the clipboard. “Excuse me.” You took one step forward before another girl—shorter—sidestepped directly in front of you, blocking the door.

You sighed under your breath and forced a tight smile to your lips, straightening your shoulders. The air suddenly felt heavier. Your eyes flicked to her badge, then to the other girls now huddled behind her like shadows.

Same year. Figures.

One of them let out a stifled laugh, whispering something into the ear of the taller girl beside her. You didn’t catch it, but it didn’t matter. The smug look on their faces said it all.

“So…” the girl in front said, head tilting like she was trying to look curious and not catty. “Are you really wearing Ni-ki’s jersey right now?”

You blinked once, tone steady. “What’s it to you if I am?”

That made them laugh—too loud, too rehearsed.

The girl blocking your way scoffed, arms crossing in front of her chest. “Who even are you to do that? Like, seriously? You think wearing his jersey makes you someone special?”

There it was. The bite behind the fake curiosity. You stared at her for a moment, expression unreadable.

“No,” you said. “But being his fiancée does.”

Like a glass shattering on tile, the laughter abruptly died. One of the girls behind her coughed, eyes widening slightly as the smirk slid off her lips.

The girl in front furrowed her brows. “Wait—what?”

You didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. “I’m his fiancée.”

And the moment the words settled in the air—unshaking, confident—they scoffed again, this time with disbelief.

“You’re kidding.” The shorter girl laughed again, looking you up and down as if expecting a punchline.

But you didn’t give one. You just looked at her. Expression steady. Shoulders relaxed. Chin tilted just slightly higher than it had been a minute ago.

You were the (L/N) heir.

A pureblooded Omega born into the higher ranks of the food chain. Groomed with etiquette sharper than knives, raised with poise sewn into your spine, and molded under pressure that would’ve crumbled people like the ones standing in front of you. You were never taught to flinch. Not even in the face of fire.

Your smile only tightened as you stared the four of them down. Being scared of jealous people? That was beneath you. You’d been envied all your life—admired, whispered about, hated from across gilded rooms. What were four girls in a bathroom compared to the world you were built to rule?

You were treated like a goddess among men. And they? They were just mortals—wielding bitterness like it made them powerful.

One of them—standing near the girl who first spoke—let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “You’re lying,” she sneered, eyes rolling like your words were dirt under her shoes. “Ni-ki would never go for someone as low as you.”

“Yeah,” the fourth girl chimed in, stepping closer to your right. “He’s way too serious for romance. Everyone knows he doesn’t care about stuff like that.”

Your head tilted ever so slightly. “Mm,” you hummed. “Too busy for omegas like you?”

Suddenly, the girl blocking your path lashed out.

Her fingers curled around your clipboard and yanked it from your grasp with a forceful tug, the wood smacking the tiles as she slammed it to the floor. The pages scattered, fluttering like leaves around your feet.

But you simply pushed your hair behind your ear, tilting your head in polite disinterest.

“Are you done?” you asked softly.

“Listen here, you pathetic excuse of a bitch,” The girl in front growled. “You’re gonna stay away from Ni-ki. Got it? You don’t belong anywhere near him. So take that jersey off, wipe that smug little smile off your face, and disappear.”

You laughed. Not the nervous kind. Not even a gentle one. It was mocking. Low, amused, cruel in the way it curled from your lips with zero fear. The sound echoed off the tiled walls, drawing tension from the others like a struck match.

“You’re adorable,” you said slowly, eyes narrowing. “Thinking you can threaten me like I haven’t heard worse at family dinners.”

The girl in front raised her hand.

You didn’t block it. Didn’t lean away. You simply stood there, posture poised, shoulders relaxed—untouched by the rage blazing in her eyes. And when the slap landed—sharp against your cheek, the sting echoing with a faint crack—you barely blinked.

You sighed. “Hmm,” you murmured. “That’ll bruise.”

Your cheek burned. It would definitely swell later. But you still looked at her like she was a mild inconvenience at most.

“You done embarrassing yourselves?” you said, voice low but firm now. No more fake sweetness. “Because I really have better things to do than stand here while a bunch of desperate little nobodies throw tantrums over my Alpha who doesn’t even know your names.”

And then, with nothing but the click of your tongue and the rustle of your jersey as you turned, you walked out.

Your shoulder brushed—shoved—into the two standing in front of you, not enough to throw them off, but enough to send a message. You didn’t shrink. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t run.

Your footsteps were steady. Your head held high.

You spotted them easily—Jake’s mate and Jungwon’s mate, standing exactly where you left them by the food booth. Their laughter had stopped. The light conversation had vanished the second they caught sight of you.

Jake’s mate blinked, her eyes widening as she took in the redness blooming on your cheek. Jungwon’s mate stiffened, clipboard nearly dropping from her hand.

They were by your side in an instant.

“Hey—hey, what happened?” Jake’s mate asked, voice gentle but frantic as her hands flew to your arms, eyes scanning your face. “Why do you look like that? What the hell happened to your—?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, brushing it off, trying to smile even as your cheek pulsed.

“You’re not,” Jungwon’s mate said, her voice deadly calm. Her scent, normally floral and light, began to sharpen—tinged with smoke and stormclouds. “Your scent’s all over the place.”

“I just—look, it’s not that big of a deal—”

Jake’s mate rubbed your arm softly, like you were breakable, like one wrong word would crack your composure. “It is a big deal. Your cheek is turning red.”

“I said I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not.” Jungwon’s mate stepped back, fingers already digging into her pocket for her phone. “Who was it?”

“Don’t,” you said quickly, reaching for her wrist. “Seriously, it’s—”

She dodged you, stepping out of reach like a flash. Her eyes met yours, narrowed and blazing, and for a second she looked so much like your mother—stern, impossible to argue with—you froze.

“I’m not letting anyone touch our girls and walk away from it,” she muttered under her breath as she typed furiously on her screen. “Ni-ki’s gonna find out in the next five minutes whether you like it or not.”

Jake’s mate let out a low whistle. “You know,” she said, trying to ease the fire in the air with a soft laugh, “you used to be so timid before you met Jungwon. And now look at you—like a mother wolf ready to bite someone's head off.”

Jungwon’s mate didn’t even pause. “That’s because people keep testing me.”

You sighed again, torn between affection and mild dread. “Please don’t cause a scene.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jake’s mate smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “that ship sailed the second someone laid a hand on you.”

The next thing you knew, you were walking beside Jay’s mate and Heeseung’s mate, both having joined the fussing. Their Omega instincts were in full swing as they cursed under their breaths, furious.

"They dared touch you?" Heeseung’s mate snapped. “Where are they? I’ll break their teeth.”

“Jay’s going to lose it when he hears, you’re practically his sister,” his mate muttered, shaking her head.

Behind you, Jake’s mate and Jungwon’s mate were whispering sharply, their conversation too low to catch—but you knew it was about you.

You all reached the student council meeting room. The door swung open.

Inside, Sunoo’s mate and Sunghoon’s mate immediately rushed forward.

“Sit down—come on, sit,” Sunghoon’s mate urged, guiding you gently to the head of the long table.

Sunoo’s mate placed a cold strawberry milk in your hands without a word.

They exchanged worried glances. “What happened?”

Before you could even open your mouth, the doors slammed open.

The air turned suffocating.

Every Omega in the room flinched.

And there he was—Ni-ki. A storm in human form, standing at the entrance with his eyes blown wide in rage and his scent turned foul, bitter and sour. His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, and his jaw was locked so tight it looked like it might snap.

The other six Alphas followed behind him. Jay and Heeseung were at his heels, trying to talk him down.

“Ni-ki, you need to calm down,” Heeseung urged, voice low.

“You’re going to scare (Y/N),” Jay added, stepping closer. “Come on, kid.”

But Ni-ki wasn’t listening. He barely heard them.

Sunghoon stepped in before Heeseung could lunge after him again. “Let him be,” Sunghoon said, calm but firm. “He’s not going to hurt anyone. He needs to see her.”

Jungwon lingered behind them, visibly torn. His eyes flicked from Sunghoon to Jay, to Ni-ki, unsure of who to follow. His Alpha instincts were clashing—protect Ni-ki? Protect you? Pick a side?

Meanwhile, Sunoo’s eyes had narrowed dangerously, his posture stiff as he walked beside Jay. “You’re seriously going to let this slide?” he asked under his breath, furious. “Someone laid a hand on (Y/N) and no one’s doing anything?”

Ni-ki’s scent spiked again.

Ni-ki stormed across the room, the sound of his shoes echoing as he came to a full stop in front of you. His hands landed harshly on the arms of your chair—gripping tight, like it was the only thing keeping him from breaking something.

You didn’t meet his eyes, you couldn’t. Not when your cheek still ached and your pride was hanging on by a thread.

“Fuck,” Ni-ki hissed, voice low and raw. His head lowered, nose brushing the air just above your shoulder. “Who?”

You stayed silent, still refusing to look up.

“I need names, Omega,” he bit out, jaw clenching. “Right now.”

The room was silent, thick with tension and bitter Alpha scent. Even the other couldn’t speak—caught between instinct and logic.

“There are pros and cons to being a pureblooded Alpha,” Ni-ki ground out, every word dripping with restrained fury. “You know what the downside is?”

He pulled back just enough to let you see his face—eyes burning, lips pressed in a tight line.

“Stronger blood. Stronger instincts. Harder to fucking control.”

“Ni-ki,” Jay warned softly from behind, trying to reel him back. “You need to think rationally. You can't—”

But Ni-ki turned sharply, sending Jay a glare that made even the older Alpha tense.

Jay held his hands up, trying to stay neutral, but the twitch in his jaw gave him away. He was close to growling. Sunghoon placed a firm hand on Jay’s chest, stopping him.

Ni-ki turned back to you, breath shallow. “I said I need names. Who did this to you? Who fucking touched you?”

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t shrink away. But you didn’t answer either.

Ni-ki’s eyes shuttered, frustration curling in his throat. He looked at Jungwon—just one glance, and Jungwon understood.

Jungwon gave a single, sharp nod before clapping his hands once. “Everyone. Out.”

The room exploded into soft gasps and protests.

“Jungwon—” Jake’s mate started.

“Out,” Jungwon repeated, firm. “She needs space. He needs space.”

Sunoo’s mate grabbed Sunghoon’s mate by the wrist, muttering something about giving them a few minutes. Jay pulled his mate close and backed toward the door. Jake lingered, gaze flicking between you and Ni-ki before Jungwon tugged his arm.

And just like that, one by one, they all filed out. Until it was just you and Ni-ki.

He stood in front of you, still tense, chest rising and falling with each breath like he was forcing himself to stay grounded. He dropped to one knee, finally, carefully—slow enough that you realized this was him trying.

His hands reached for yours, hesitant, but he didn’t grab.

“(Y/N),” he said softly, finally—like your name was the only word that could calm him. “Please. Tell me.”

You inhaled shakily.

And then—slowly, finally—you lifted your gaze and met his eyes.

Your own were glossy, clouded with the emotion you’d been biting down for too long. But you swallowed hard, forcing it down, blinking quickly as if you could will the tears not to fall.

“I… I don’t know their names,” you admitted, shaking your head once. “But Jay’s mate does.”

Ni-ki’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t interrupt.

You glanced down at his hands—still kneeling, still holding yours with a gentleness that didn’t match the rage boiling in his scent. His thumbs moved over your knuckles, calming himself.

“I know they’re from the Han, Choi, Yoon, and Nam families,” you added carefully, your words deliberate, quiet. “All Omegas. All from our year.”

His expression didn’t change much—but his entire body seemed to lock into place, like every nerve had gone tight at once. He pressed his forehead against your intertwined hands. His breathing was ragged now.

You felt the tremble in his fingers before you heard the soft, barely-contained growl curling in his throat. “Why,” he whispered, voice cracking under the strain, “didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I had to find out through Jay’s mate,” he said, a low rasp. “I was halfway to the north wing when I got the text and—I should’ve been there.”

“Riki—”

“No,” he said sharply, pulling back just enough to look at you again.

His eyes were bloodshot. Unblinking. “You’re mine, Omega. Do you understand that? Mine to protect. Mine to stand in front of when people look at you wrong, let alone touch you.”

“And they dared lay hands on you?” he continued, voice hollow. “While I wasn’t there? While I was wasting time checking fucking booths and pretending I could focus on anything when I should’ve known something was wrong?”

He brought your hands up and pressed a kiss to your fingers—tender, but desperate.

“I would burn the entire world for you,” he whispered, his lips trembling against your knuckles. “And you think I wouldn’t rip through a few desperate, entitled Omegas?”

“Riki, it’s not about—”

“It is,” he said, a growl finally bleeding into the syllables. “This isn’t just some worthless drama, (Y/N). They crossed a line. They laid a hand on what’s mine.”

“All I’ve done is hold back.”

His voice was low now, sharp and fast like venom slipping through his fangs. “I’ve played nice. I’ve waited. I’ve controlled myself around people who didn’t deserve my restraint. And for what? So some egotistic Alpha prick could think he has the right to look at you like he has a chance?”

“So Riku thinks he’s some sort of god now?” he scoffed bitterly. “Thinks that just because he’s from the Maeda family and walks around like he owns the academy, he can steal you away from me?”

Ni-ki’s lip curled into something between a snarl and a heartbreak. “And those Omegas? Those girls who think they can corner you, question your worth, my feelings, my claim—”

He stood up, towering over you like a wall between you and the world. His chest was heaving, hands clenched into fists at his sides. The scent of burnt lime was still there—but calmer now.

“I have been patient,” he seethed, “when all I wanted was to scream to the world that you belong to me. That I would tear down anyone who so much as thought of touching you.”

He leaned forward slowly, one hand braced on the chair behind your head, the other gripping your jaw just gently enough to tilt your face to him. “So let me say it now, and let everyone hear me: You are mine.”

His forehead met yours again—harder this time, but not to hurt. To anchor. To swear a vow. You leaned forward, pressing back as much as you could in your seat, meeting him halfway even if it meant losing your breath.

How could you not match the fire in his gaze when every word he said was drenched in love—twisted and feral, but love nonetheless?

“I’m calling our families,” he muttered against your skin, voice so low you almost thought you imagined it. “After this. No more waiting.”

“We’re moving up the engagement announcement,” Ni-ki continued, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Tomorrow. No more long talks. No more letting people assume they have time to get between us.”

“I will not give them a single second longer to doubt you. Or me.” He straightened, his thumb brushing away the tear that slipped past your control. “I’ve waited long enough.”

You sat with your back straight, hands folded neatly on your lap, but it was obvious—your nerves were everywhere.

The large venue hall buzzed with low murmurs and flashing lights, cameras capturing every polished angle of the Nishimura Enterprises press conference. You sat beside Ni-ki in the front row, the only Omega seated beside the board’s Alpha heir—and everyone noticed.

On stage, Konon—Ni-ki’s older sister—cleared her throat and continued confidently, gesturing toward a digital chart on the screen behind her as she finished it up.

Applause echoed in the hall, polite and expected.

You were supposed to be in the academy right now. Checking booths. Chatting with Jungwon’s mate. Laughing with your friends and not… sitting in front of every broadcast journalist in the country.

You swallowed thickly, your hands curling just a little too tightly into the fabric of your dress pants.

All around you, cameras clicked—some subtle, some not. Every movement was being analyzed, every whisper caught by directional mics. News anchors from national stations muttered softly under their breath, piecing together a live feed, and you could already feel the headlines forming.

A gentle squeeze to your hand beneath the table, calloused fingers sliding against your palm like a lifeline. Ni-ki’s hand wrapped around yours with a quiet kind of fierceness.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch him leaning in.

He dipped his head low until his breath brushed your ear, voice soft—only for you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

Your throat bobbed. “I—just… overwhelmed”

Ni-ki hummed in understanding, his thumb brushing small circles over the back of your hand. “I know. I shouldn’t have asked you to come.”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I wanted to. I need this to be over.”

“You’ve got nothing to prove to them,” he said, voice low and firm. “You just sit here, hold my hand, and look pretty like always.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Riki—”

“I mean it,” he said, smiling softly now. “Let them all talk. Let them watch. You’re mine. And this?”

He tilted his head toward the stage where his sister’s voice echoed through the room, still talking about market shares and quarterly projections.

“This is just noise. We’re the headline.”

You let out a breath, one that almost turned into a laugh. “You’re such a show-off.”

He grinned. “Only for you.”

You glanced around. The cameras had definitely caught that moment. But you didn’t care—not when Ni-ki was looking at you like that, like you were the center of his entire universe.

He leaned in once more, pressing a fleeting kiss to your temple, so quick you almost missed it. “Ten more minutes,” he promised, “and then I’m dragging you out of here. I heard there’s strawberry milk waiting for us in the car.”

You were just about to turn to him, the corners of your lips lifting, when—

“May I now call on Nishimura Riki and (L/N (Y/N) to come on the stage?” Konon’s voice boomed through the venue, calm and commanding through the microphone. The murmuring in the room rose in volume, camera flashes flickering like fireflies.

Ni-ki sighed softly, squeezing your hand one last time before standing. “Well, there goes our exit plan.”

He straightened his posture and extended his arm toward you with a slight smirk. “Shall we?”

You looped your arm through his without hesitation, letting him pull you gently to your feet. Despite the swell of eyes and lights on you, his presence kept you steady. His other hand hovered protectively at your back as he guided you through the aisle, careful to keep pace with your steps.

“I told you not to wear those heels,” he whispered lowly, glancing down with a frown at the strappy, elegant but clearly uncomfortable shoes. “You’re barely walking, angel.”

“They matched the dress,” you whispered back.

“They match nothing if you trip on the stairs.”

You bit back a laugh as you both climbed onto the stage, the applause swelling around you. Konon greeted the two of you with a polite nod and a knowing smile. Her poised, professional demeanor didn’t hide the subtle glance she gave your intertwined hands.

Without waiting, Ni-ki took the mic from his sister with a nod of thanks, standing tall in front of the crowd of stakeholders, executives, journalists, and live-stream viewers.

“Good afternoon,” he began, voice smooth, practiced—but still very him. “I’m Nishimura Riki, and on behalf of my family, I’d like to extend our deepest gratitude for your support of Nishimura Enterprises and its many developments these past months.”

A pause.

“And while today is a celebration of progress and success, I’d like to take this moment to share something… more personal.”

He turned to look at you. The lights made his eyes shine.

“With the blessing and push from both of our families,” he continued, voice firmer now, “I would like to announce my engagement to (L/N) (Y/N).”

The entire venue erupted in noise. Flashes exploded from every direction. Voices overlapped—cheers, gasps, even a few stunned laughs. The applause felt deafening, but you didn’t flinch. You were used to it.

What you weren’t used to was the way Ni-ki looked at you in that moment—not just as the Nishimura heir, not just as your Alpha—but as your best friend since you were both kids building castles out of pillows in your living rooms, hiding away from the pressure of your last names.

You turned slightly to face the crowd, and when you spoke, your voice came out warm and composed.

“We’ve known each other since we were too short to reach the kitchen counter,” you said with a soft smile. “And even back then, Riki always looked out for me. From scraped knees to late-night calls to strawberry milk after long days… he’s always been there.”

You felt him smile beside you.

“And now,” you continued, “I’m honored to be by his side—not just as his partner, but as someone who believes in the future we’ll build together.”

Ni-ki nodded once, like you’d just said the exact thing his heart was holding. He leaned toward you subtly, just enough that your shoulders brushed, and whispered, “You were perfect.”

“You’re biased,” you whispered back.

“I’m yours,” he replied, and even with all the noise, all the lights, and all the eyes watching—you swore it was just the two of you on that stage.

Another wave of applause erupted like thunder, sweeping through the grand venue. From the reserved family section near the front, your parents stood—smiles stretched wide across their faces—clapping with such pride and joy it made your chest ache. Beside them, the Nishimuras, regal and composed, mirrored the same warmth, their approval unmistakable.

Ni-ki’s eyes didn’t leave yours.

His hand gently tugged you closer, your sides brushing as the lights above cast a golden hue around your figures. He smiled down at you—real, soft, the kind that only you got to see when no one else was looking.

And you, unable to help the emotion building in your chest, looked up at him with eyes full of everything you’d never been able to say out loud before.

Your lips parted, voice quiet but certain as it reached him despite the noise.

“Always been.”

⤷ read part 1 here !

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[zepskies]

Against the Wind - Part 4

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: The grand finale...

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, knotting, claiming, fluff and feels.

🧡 Series Masterlist

Part 4: Running to Live

His cold hands are warming on your skin as he slides them underneath your sweater. They move smoothly up your back, bunching up the material. You break from his kiss only to help him get the sweater off you, followed closely by his pants.

Your sweatpants slide down your legs with just a sharp tug, baring most of your body to his gaze. His eyes drag over your exposed neck and shoulders, your breasts cupped in your bra, down to your panties and bare thighs.

A shiver runs through you, both from his heated gaze, and from being exposed to the cooler air. Even with the fire going and the heater running in the cabin, the frigid air outside is unforgiving.

You have no problem with the way Dean guides you down from the chaise to take advantage of your nest on the floor, right in front of the fire. He draws you into a sensuous kiss, sucking your lower lip into his mouth and grazing with teeth.

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return. You reach up to caress his cheek, feeling the prickling of his stubble. Your fingers thread into his hair, and you pull him back down for a devouring kiss.

Dean’s brows furrow as he holds you to him, wanting to feel every part of your skin against his. His calloused fingers map their way down your side, and across your back to unhook your bra. His lips veer away from yours to burn a wet, heated trail along your neck. His teeth come out to graze your skin, down your throat, down the lovely valley between your breasts.

“Dean,” you gasp, encouraging him when his hand cups one of your breasts. He explores the other with his mouth, teasing a pebbled nipple with his tongue. Your fingers tighten in his hair, your thighs rubbing together between the cage of his knees in the mess of blankets. Already you feel slick forming at the apex of your thighs and slipping down in between.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin. “Fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You can’t help but smile. Your face warms either from the fire dancing shadows across your bodies, or from him, his attention, his warmth, and the heat in his eyes when they meet your again. His hand slides down your body, over your hip and squeezing your thigh as he opens you up further for him.

“Tell me what you want, Omega.” While I still have control, his tone implies. His voice is gravel and sin while his hand moves swiftly and smoothly up the inside of your thigh.

“Touch me,” you breathe.

Nodding, he hooks his fingers around the hem of your panties and slides them down. You help him kick them off. Afterward, his thumb brushes over your mound, making you sharply inhale and squeeze his shoulders encouragingly. His fingers dip inside your wet heat, his brows raising with a smirk, as he feels the sheer amount of your slick already coating his digits.

“Fuck. This all for me, baby?” he remarks.

You hold onto the back of his neck with both hands as you nod, biting your lip. Your hips begin to cant against his hand on reflex, urging him to touch you.

“Alpha, please…” you implore, in a ragged whisper. He swallows your plea with a ravaging kiss, but he still gives you what you want. His thumb circles your clit, earning a moan from you into his mouth.

Soon, two of his fingers plunge slowly inside you, working you open, drawing more gasps and shudders of pleasure from your body. His length continues to strain hard against your thigh, but for him, it’s worth it to draw every sound, every time your body writhes and arches against him, craving release.

With a few more purposeful strokes, your inner walls clamp tight on his hand, and a flood of slick coats his knuckles even more. You gasp his name, your hands squeezing his arms just as tight as your pussy around his fingers.

Your skin is beginning to get dewy with sweat, and he kisses some of it off you when he trails down your chest. You stroke down his arms, down his back, whatever you can reach as you catch your breath. But then, his name falls from your lips with a firmer tone.

Dean raises his head, and you gently push at his chest. His brows furrow in confusion, only for it to be replaced with a smile of surprise when you curl a thigh over his hip and guide him onto his back. His head just manages to fall on one of your pillows, but he still utters a small grunt. You giggle down at him, bowing to meet him for a kiss.

He smirks and holds onto your hips, playfully squeezing your ass. “My wily omega.”

“Thought I was your cheeky omega,” you tease.

He snorts. “That too.”

You giggle some more as you treat him to the same path of open-mouthed kisses down his neck. Except this time, you hook a hand behind his neck, and you trail your tongue around his mating gland. You feel his jolt of surprise, as well as his instinctive growl of pleasure in response to his mate. Or at least, not yet…

His heart pounds in his chest.

“Omega,” he says, a warning not to tease as his grip tightens on your hips.

The command in his voice makes you shiver, but you smile and nuzzle his cheek in affection. You kiss your way down his body, playing special attention to his nipples, his stomach, the soft V and the happy trail of light brown fuzz leading you down between his hips.

Your fingers slide down his hardened desire through his underwear, earning a grunt from him, along with a shifting of his body against the blankets. Your lips curve as you nuzzle him there as well, letting your lips drag across his impressive length.

His fingers tangle in your hair when you hook your nails around the waistband and free his cock from its confines. His boxers join the rest of your clothes somewhere, and finally you get to see all of him, as much as he takes in all of you. Your hand wraps around his girth, your thumb circling around the sensitive, weeping head of it. Dean groans, a sound from deep in his chest.

You don’t know this, but it’s been a while since anyone but his own hand has touched him. That’s not the only reason his body has been calling to yours, but it plays a part in how fucking good it feels, and how much more he wants you.

He feels your intentions when your hand moves down his shaft in a teasing caress, your fingers tracing around his knot. A shudder rattles down his spine, makes his desire burn hotter in the pit of his stomach.

He can’t fucking take it anymore. He needs you, needs to be inside you. Needs to take you the way his instincts demand.

He grasps your shoulder before you put your mouth on him. You blink up at him, with a question forming on your lips, but he hefts you up onto his chest by your arms. He cages you there with a kiss filled with abject need.

“I can’t. Can’t wait anymore,” he says. He drags his fingers through your folds and earns another moan from your when he finds your clit. “You ready for me, Omega? Need my knot?”

“Yeah,” you nod, agreeing against his lips. “Need you, Alpha—”

No sooner had the words escaped your lips, when Dean rolls you back underneath him. But this time, he guides you onto your stomach, then raises up your hips, until you’re on your hands and knees. You catch your breath as you regain your bearings, shooting an incredulous smile over your shoulder at Dean. He smirks back at you, but his gaze is intense, his pupils darkened with the alpha inside him. 

Still, he soothes a hand down your back and steadies you with a hold on your hip. You feel him slot himself behind you, guiding his cock at your entrance. His chest presses hotly against your back.

“Last chance, Omega,” he says, his voice tight with restraint.

You look back at him again over your shoulder, your mouth threatening to frown. You reach back and sink your fingers into his hair with a sharp tug. “Do it.”

He sinks into you with one smooth plunge. It’s a relief for both of you, your mingled moans echoing in the near silence. All that’s left is the sound of your quickening breaths, of skin against sweat-slick skin as you move together.

Dean brushes your hair away from your neck. He kisses and licks his way along your bare shoulder, and finally the back of your neck. You’re trembling by the time his lips find the sensitive flesh of your mating gland. It echoes with the pulsing from your core as he continues to drive into you.

“Alpha,” you gasp on reflex. You squeeze his arm; he has it wrapped tight around your middle. Your pleasure builds ever closer to that crescendo, especially as his thrusts become ragged, at an angle that zips delicious tingles through your core. “Close…just…I need…”

Dean isn’t so far gone. He hears you, and helps you, reaching his hand around to strum his fingers insistently on your clit, along with his final thrusts.

Finally, it tumbles you over. Your inner walls become impossibly tight around him as he draws out your second release—one that triggers his own. Dean groans into your ear; his knot swells and locks into place, and he spends himself deep inside you. He pants hot against your neck, but even though he fastens his lips there, he hesitates, once again making you shudder. 

“Do it,” you repeat, in a coarse whisper. You’re close to tears. “Please. Want you, Alpha. Need you…”

Once again, he hears you.

His teeth sink into the back of your neck, making you cry out. But your pain is quickly overshadowed by a deepest pleasure, thrumming along with his.

 Afterward, Dean holds you in his arms. The warm glow of the fire paints your skin in its light, despite the utter darkness in the rest of the house. 

While you both wait for his knot to subside, you revel in the fact that you know he’s content. You can feel it through the newly formed bond. He traces random shapes in your skin, which still glistens with a fine sheen of sweat. The fire he stoked doesn’t help to cool you down, but you don’t care.

Nothing else matters but this. You turn your head toward him over your shoulder. He meets you there with a gentle kiss, much more gentle than any other you’ve shared before. It feels right. 

When he parts from you, he presses another kiss to your forehead. Then he leans back a little and sighs. You feel his thumb trace the raw flesh around the claiming mark on your neck. A small shiver runs through your body. Maybe on another day, you’ll mark him in return.

“It’s too damn late,” he says, breaking the silence. “You realize that right?”

You shoot him a frown. “Too late for what?”

“For me to let you go,” he says. 

His words both warm you and make you sad. Just how little does he think of himself?

“Dean,” you say, endeavoring to be patient. “You’re my true mate. Do you know how rare it is that we’ve actually found each other?”

Dean remains quiet.

“And after everything you’ve done for me,” you add, “how can I not think you’re a good man? How can I not think this is right?”

He seems to consider your question. His gaze briefly falls, then meets your eyes again.

“You don’t know me that well,” is his answer, with a wry turn of his lips. 

You reach back to caress his cheek. “Then tell me. Tell me about, um…tell me about how you became a hunter. From your dad’s journal, I got the sense that it’s a family thing.”

A vendetta, you wanted to say, but you keep that thought inside.

Dean chuckles, dropping another kiss onto your shoulder. You feel the pleasurable rasp of his stubble.

“Yeah, more like a family business,” he says. 

He tells you why John Winchester started writing in that journal in the first place. Dean explains it in his own words, of what his family was before and after a demon broke into his brother’s nursery. Your heart continues to break for him, over and over, the more story he tells. Your shock can only reach new heights when he tells you about angels and demons and everything in between. 

There are moments where he pauses, needing the time to find his words. He’s talked for so long that his knot finally softens, allowing you to withdraw from him, just to turn in his arms and be able to see his face. He bundles you in the blankets to keep you warm, but he also keeps you close, with a loose arm around your waist as he continues. 

You sense that he’s not telling you everything. How could he? A lifetime of blood and wins and incredible losses; family gained, and family lost, endless saves, and so many near misses. You listen with rapt attention (and a lot of shock) to everything he can share, but your heart twinges when you see how he struggles to talk about his mother’s most recent death. Then his best friend Cas. 

You realize that this man, for all his self-deprecation, is a hero. More so than you already knew.

“After the whole Chuck thing was done, I thought we’d just…go back to status quo. Me and Sam against the world, you know?” Dean says. He gives a rueful smile. “Then Sammy tells me he knocked up his mate.”

You smile. “You’re happy for him though.”

“Course I am,” Dean nods. “He never thought he’d get to have all that. A badass chick who can keep him on his toes, a house, the kid, the whole damn thing. He’s downright respectable again.”

His brotherly pride and his humor are tinged with something else though. You think you begin to understand. His losses have weighed him down, leaving him aimless and living in that in between, not unlike the ghosts he used to hunt. You know the feeling. 

You thread your fingers with his, earning his attention. 

“You can have that too, you know,” you say. “I mean, I don’t want to skip ahead, but I feel like things are going well here, despite the whole busted ankle thing.” 

Dean slowly smiles, shaking his head. He brings your hand up to his lips. 

“Okay, enough about my Hallmark movie life. What about you?” he asks. 

So you tell him. 

You two continue to share and explore, both in words and with your bodies, until morning comes. 

It’s another week in the cabin before Dean insists on helping you down the mountain. Your ankle has gotten a little better, but at this point, you need to see a doctor. It takes a couple of days, going as slow as you need to. He ends up carrying you for most of the way anyway. You tell him over and over that he doesn’t have to, but your alpha is stubborn. 

Once he gets you back to the city, you two take a shuttle to the nearest hospital. X-rays are taken, and you get a new cast for your officially fractured ankle. At the very least, you don’t need surgery. You’re able to call your mom from there and let her know where you’ve been, that you’re all right, and best of all…that you’ve found your mate. 

You cry along with her on the phone, this time for a good reason. The best reason. 

When you’re eventually released from the hospital, Dean picks you up in a sleek, black Chevy that has your eyes wide. 

He grins at the look on your face. “Hey, sweetheart. Come meet my Baby.” 

He parks the car and keeps the heater running while he comes around to you in swift strides. He takes your crutches and slides them into the backseat, then helps you into the passenger seat. 

“It’s beautiful, but my God, how old is this thing?”

“She. She’s a she.”

“Oh, pardon me,” you say in amusement. “Do I have some competition here?”

Dean gives you a teasing smirk. “Well, technically, she’s been with me a lot longer than you.” 

You scoff incredulously. He laughs and takes your hand, pressing a kiss into your palm. You discreetly study him and marvel at how much lighter he seems. You don’t know how much is because of this, what your hand in his symbolizes, and how much is because he’s reunited with something important to him. 

“It’s okay, Omega mine,” he says, with a measure of desire in his eyes. “From now on, you’re my priority.”

Your spine prickles with the same arousal you can feel from him through the bond. You lean across the way and share a thorough kiss. 

Until a horn honks loudly from behind. You both jolt, but Dean’s face falls into annoyance. He shoots up a choice finger at the car behind him in the rearview mirror. You laugh as he begins to peel out of the curved pick-up and drop-off zone in front of the hospital. 

“Where are we going, Dean?” you ask, still smiling in amusement. 

“Wherever we damn well please.” He turns to you with a hint of a smile reforming on his lips. “Want me to take you back home? We can sort out the logistics on, uh…well, this.”

You think about it. He poses a good idea, but at the same time, you’re not quite ready for this part of the adventure to end. 

“How long has it been since you’ve seen Sam?” you ask.

Dean blinks at your question. He whistles lowly. “About a year. Jesus, since my nephew was born.”

You smile and reach over, resting your hand on his thigh. 

“Let’s go see him, then,” you say. “I want to meet your family. Then you can meet mine.”

After that, you two can figure out the rest, like where to live, and how you’ll live. 

Dean raises a brow. “Really? That’s like, a thirteen-hour drive.”

You shrug. “I’ve always wanted to go on a real road trip. Can we get some food first though? I’m starving.” 

He laughs and nods as he stops the car at a red light.

“What do you know? A woman after my own heart,” he says. His amusement eases into a gentler smile the longer he stares at you. You smile back, and you give into the urge to lean in again, meeting your lips with his. He brushes your cheek tenderly with his thumb. 

“I know what this needs,” he says lowly. Your brows draw together in a silent question. 

He pulls away to reach into the side compartment along the driver door. He fishes out a cassette tape labelled Zeppelin IV. You bite your lip and try not to say anything smartassed.

Damn, this man is old school. 

He skips ahead until he finds Track 7, just as the light turns green. A melodious guitar riff fills the car as he turns onto the main road with your hand wrapped in his. 

Made up my mind to make a new start.

Going to California with an aching in my heart…

AN: And thaaaaat's all, folks! 🥹

...Just kidding! lol Here's the surprise epilogue: 🧡🧡

▶️ Keep Reading: Epilogue

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[cheolaholic]

bonded love; jww (bty - patreon exclusive bonus teaser)

summary; Now with twins and a wonderful husband, your dreams of a perfect family was just that - perfect. That is... until your husband enters an early rut.

a/b/o universe • mafia au • arranged marriage • fluff, smut

pairing; jeon wonwoo x fem! reader | wc; 5.1k (teaser is 288) | rating; 18+ explicit nsfw

contains; alpha! wonwoo, omega! reader, alpha! twins (yes, you read that right), mentions of JxW, wonwoo wears glasses, simp! wonwoo, paris fashion week, reader walks a runway, cute family moment, wonwoo refers to reader as ‘my wife’, jeonghan being jeonghan and poking at wonwoo

mature/trigger warnings; dom! wonwoo, sub! reader, big dick! wonwoo, wonwoo being thrown into an early rut because his omega wore a dress he made for her, creampies, squirting, fingering, doggystyle, biting/marking kink, knotting, aftercare, mentions of rut suppressants

petnames; his (Nonu, Alpha), hers (Babydoll, My Sweet Omega)

✨ this bonus fic is a patreon exclusive fic. to read this fic, become a patreon 🎀 you could also tip me on kofi !! 💜 if you are unable to do so, you can also show support by reblogging your favourite works of mine !!

When you walked, the screen behind you displayed the designer and the room fell into stunned silence. 

JWW – Fait Pour Elle

They weren’t staring because you were beautiful, though you were.

They weren’t whispering because the dress was flawless, though it was.

They were whispering because he had made it.

Gasps echoed softly through the audience, heads turning, eyes locked. No one was looking at their phones. No one dared to blink.

“The Jeon Wonwoo designed that?”

“But, he never made dresses. That was always Jeonghan’s thing, wasn't it?”

“Haven’t you heard? That’s Jeon Wonwoo’s wife.”

“His mate.”

It spread quickly, The realisation. The awe. The understanding.

Jeon Wonwoo never designed gowns. He was known for his structured, clean menswear – subtle, powerful, precise. Dresses were always Jeonghan’s territory, always fluid, expressive, romantic.

But, the dress you wore out on the runway was more than just a deviation from his norm.

It was a declaration.

Wonwoo knows the saying that a designer’s love for his work is evident in the final piece.

And tonight, not only did the world witness his love for his work, for his design – they also witnessed his love for you.

Because the dress itself was a confession, that it was made only for you.

Each movement made the dress reveal something quiet and tender, the slight flare of the train that shimmered like moonlight trailing behind you; how the back dipped just low enough to feel like a secret only someone madly in love would dare to show. If one were to look close enough, the hand-stitched hem spelled out a single word over and over in tiny, almost imperceptible thread.

Yours.

You were wearing more than just a dress.

You wore his love.

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[fixated-cookies]

What Bleeds Is Mine

Pairing: Dark Cacao Cookie x Beta!Reader (Human-turned-Cookie) Word Count: ~2.1k Rating: SFW (no smut), Explicit Themes Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (Alpha x Beta), SOFT YANDERE, period pain and menstrual discussion, possessive behavior, protective yandere elements, emotional distress, non-canon worldbuilding (human-turned-cookie, potion magic, cookie court politics), hurt/comfort, emotional intimacy

I BELIEVE IN ALPHA X BETA SUPREMACY!!!

COMISSION

You had always known the witches would come for you. Not today. Not tomorrow. But eventually.

That’s why you ran—grimoire clutched tight to your chest like a stolen secret, like a weapon of mass destruction. It practically was, with the wrong ingredients. You hadn’t had time to memorize every rune or decode all the potions, but one of them had saved you in the most unexpected way: it made you a Cookie.

Not quite a real one. A perfect imitation, yes. The same dough, the same soft glow of life. But the moment you looked in the mirror and saw your reflection blink back—eyes too haunted, heartbeat too real—you knew what you were.

Something in-between.

You fled far and fast. Burned through the last page of teleportation ink just to cross the northern ridge of Earthbread. When your feet finally stopped, you stood beneath the towering spires of the Dark Cacao Kingdom—cold, disciplined, and merciless.

And yet... it was there you found safety. Maybe even something close to peace.

They called you a diplomat. A miracle. A clever little tactician with strange ideas and dangerous charm. You climbed the court ranks with grace and cunning. Within two seasons, you held the rank of Duchess. You wore regal robes now. You dined beside kings. You smiled without flinching.

And still, once a month, the reminder came. Your body. Your real body. Bleeding. Cramps twisting like vines of barbed wire through your belly. Exhaustion so bone-deep your limbs refused to move.

Thankfully, the grimoire had remedies for that too. A tea blend. A potion. A rhythm of herbs that numbed the pain and halted your cycle entirely.

Until last week—when the last of the leaves crumbled in your satchel, and the froststorm made it impossible to get more.

You lasted two days in denial. Now it was the third. You hadn’t left your chambers. You hadn’t answered your door. The guards had been instructed to keep visitors away. You’d curled beneath velvet sheets with your face buried in your hands and your thighs clenched tight from the dull, angry ache inside you.

The scent—faint metallic and sweet—lingered in the air. You hadn’t realized it was so strong. You hadn’t realized it would spread.

And you definitely hadn’t realized it would reach the throne room.

Meanwhile… Far below, beneath blackstone pillars carved with the tales of old kings, Dark Cacao Cookie stood like a statue mid-battle.

He had frozen mid-conversation.

Something was wrong.

It wasn't just the scent—although that alone was enough to make his instincts surge. It was faint, muddled beneath layers of suppressants, magic, and silks… but it was there. Sharp. Bitter. Wrong. Not a heat. Not an Alpha. Not an Omega. But Beta.

And bleeding.

His Beta.

Even muted by distance and cold stone, his body recognized it instantly. The scent of your blood laced with something unfamiliar, something pained and desperate, threading through the air like a dying note. It hooked under his skin like a blade. Made his every nerve bristle with ancient instinct.

And the guards—those foolish, slow guards—had just reported you missing from court for the third day.

His eyes narrowed. The clench of his jaw was silent.

His steps were not.

He left the war table without a word. A blur of red cape and spiked armor, heavy boots striking against the stone with wrathful precision. The doors groaned in his wake, protesting as they were flung open with brute force.

There was no question in his mind. No rational thought to soothe the blaze that rose in his chest.

The scent of his Beta’s blood—distressed, unmasked, unguarded—was enough to drive the ancient Alpha in him into a cold, calculated frenzy.

You were in pain. You were alone. You had been vulnerable.

And if anyone had laid a hand on you while he was not there to shield you?

Then the last thing they would ever see… would be the crimson rage in his eyes, and the judgment of a king whose Beta had cried out in silence.

The footsteps came long before the knock. Heavy. Purposeful. Like thunder rolling in from the cliffs.

Then—nothing.

You stirred under the covers, curled inward against the throb of your belly, breath shallow. The heat had long gone from your tea. Your grimoire lay useless across your lap, flipped open to a half-faded page on stasis spells. You hadn’t even had the strength to read it.

And then—

BOOM.

The doors slammed open. Not creaked. Not eased. Slammed.

The force shook the wooden beams above. Dust scattered like ash across the windowlight. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest as you jerked upright—

And there he was.

Dark Cacao Cookie. Towering. Cloaked in cold and shadows. His broad shoulders nearly filled the doorway, armor still gleaming from the court chamber. His gaze locked to your form with a lethal kind of precision, eyes wild beneath the crown of storm-dark curls.

He looked ready to kill. And for a moment—he thought he might have to.

His gaze dragged over you. Your disheveled bed. Your pale face. Your trembling form clutching at your stomach like you were in pain.

And then his nose twitched.

Blood.

Faint. Metallic. Familiar. Not enough to mean death, but enough to enrage him.

His hands clenched into fists. “Who did this,” he growled. Not asked. Growled.

Your mouth opened. Closed.

“Your Grace—” you rasped, voice hoarse.

"Who"

He was already stalking forward. You scrambled to sit up straighter, holding out your hand with what little strength you had.

“No one—! No one did anything! I’m fine, I swear—”

But he wasn’t listening. His eyes had glazed over with the fury of a man who had nothing left to lose but you. He was already thinking of who had touched you. Who had hurt you. Why the guards hadn’t been punished for failing to protect you.

He dropped to one knee beside the bed, metal creaking. His gauntlet reached for your wrist—but hesitated at the last moment.

“Don’t be afraid,” he rumbled, gentler now. “You don’t have to speak. Just nod. Was it someone in the council? One of the knights?”

“Dark Cacao—”

“Tell me now.” His voice broke. Broke. “Please. Let me protect you. That’s all I ask. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

You stared at him. Truly stared.

This was the man they whispered about in the courts. Cold. Commanding. Ruthless in war. But this man—this man kneeling before you with trembling hands and shattered restraint—was not a king.

He was a man on the edge.

And you were his tipping point.

“…It’s my body,” you whispered at last.

He blinked.

You swallowed thickly. “It’s not an attack. Not a curse. It’s... it’s just something that happens. Monthly. My kind—my original kind—we call it a period.”

His eyes flickered. “Your kind?”

Oh. You realized your mistake too late.

The room felt colder, even as he knelt closer.

You flinched, trying to scramble for words. “I—I didn’t mean— I mean, I am a Cookie now, but… once, before this body—before the Kingdom—I was something else. Someone else.”

His stare sharpened. Not angry. Just... careful.

“Not a monster,” you added quickly. “I never hurt anyone. I only ran.”

“Ran… from what?”

Your breath hitched. You glanced toward your grimoire still splayed across the bed. The faded ink, the tear-stained pages. All the power you’d hidden, all the truths you never dared speak aloud.

“From the Witches,” you said quietly. “I escaped them. I took something from one of them—something powerful. It’s how I made this body. I wasn’t trying to deceive anyone… I was trying to live.”

Silence.

He stood, slow and heavy, and for a terrifying moment you thought he might walk away. But instead—

He reached for the grimoire.

“You made yourself one of us,” he said softly, reading the strange symbols on the page. “With this.”

You nodded, fingers gripping your sheets. “It’s why I get sick like this. I’m still… not perfect. Not fully like you. Sometimes things slip through.”

He turned to face you again. His gaze was no longer wild. It was anchored.

“You chose to become one of us,” he murmured. “You endured pain. Risked death. All for the right to stay.”

You blinked, unsure of what to say.

And then—he knelt again, this time bowing low, resting his forehead just beside your aching belly.

“I will not fail you again.” His voice wasn’t booming, nor cold, nor laced with command like it so often was. It cracked. Quiet. Fractured in a way that felt wrong for a war hero—yet so right for a man.

He stayed like that for a moment. Breathing in the faintest, unmasked scent of your pain. As if punishing himself with it. As if grounding himself in the reminder that he had not noticed sooner. That he hadn’t known.

You felt his hand reach toward you—not to grab, not to restrain, but to hold. Cautiously. He waited to see if you’d flinch.

You didn’t.

His calloused palm settled gently over your abdomen, where the pain curled tight and hot inside you. His touch was warm. Heavy. But it didn’t weigh you down—it anchored you.

“…You’re still shaking,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “Where is the pain worst?”

You opened your mouth, tried to speak, but your throat closed around the words. Instead, your fingers—smaller, weaker, trembling—reached for his. Guiding him lower. Pressing his knuckles into the cramp as you let out a soft breath.

“There,” you whispered.

And the moment he understood, Dark Cacao Cookie exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for a thousand years.

“Then I shall remain here.”

He shifted forward without another word. Without asking. He removed his gauntlets with quiet precision, setting them aside like sacred relics, and then slowly—so gently—wrapped his arms around you. One behind your back. One beneath your legs.

He lifted you into his lap with the care of someone cradling a wounded relic, not a person. You curled instinctively into the heat of his chest, against the thick red fabric and cold, carved armor, your forehead pressing into the hollow just below his collarbone.

And he just… held you.

Not for show. Not for power. Not for dominance.

But because he needed to.

“I know little of your kind,” he said softly, his voice rumbling low and steady in your ear. “But I will learn. If it means protecting you—I will learn it all.”

Your body trembled again, but this time not from pain.

You buried your face deeper into his shoulder. “I didn’t want you to worry,” you mumbled. “It’s just… how it is for humans. A normal cycle. I’m sorry.”

He stilled. Slowly, his hand came to rest over the back of your head. His voice dropped to a hush.

“Do not ever apologize for your nature.”

His fingers moved in slow, grounding strokes through your hair. “You are no less worthy for your pain. Nor less sacred.”

You clutched his chest tighter.

“I thought you’d be angry,” you whispered. “That I wasn’t like the others. That I’d… fooled you.”

He tilted his head, drawing back just enough to look at you. His brow furrowed—not in rage, but grief. The way ancient stone weeps silently with time.

“You could never deceive me,” he said. “Not you.”

You felt his heartbeat. Slow. Steady. Strong enough to make the walls feel safer.

“I should’ve come sooner,” he muttered. “I smelled the blood—I knew something was wrong. But I thought only of the worst. I should’ve trusted you to tell me.”

“…I was scared,” you admitted.

His arms tightened around you.

“You are not alone,” he said. “You never will be. Not while I breathe.”

A long silence passed. Then—

“Would… would a bath help?” he asked, hesitant, as if unsure he was allowed to offer such softness.

You nodded against his chest.

“I will draw one. With crushed herbs. Warmth. Anything you need.”

He stood with you still in his arms.

He didn’t let you go. Not once.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 4

Logan Howlett + Omegaverse

Feral mutants? Feral mutants. Readers based on a coyote, because I like coyotes, and it feels funny. For once, the reader is on the scrawny short side. I had to look up coyote and wolf behaviours for this, and I still feel like I didn’t do well. My version of omegaverse amongst feral mutants, enjoy.

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Logan had been living amongst the pack of wolves for who knew how long. When one lived in the woods, as far away from civilization as they could get, you had a tendency to lose track of time. You noticed the passing seasons, only based on the fact that the pack would migrate to better areas, and that pups would be born. What Logan did notice, was the other feral mutant who’d edge at the borders of his pack’s territory.

Everyone knew that the whole alpha beta omega hierarchy was bullshit when it came to wolves or other animals. But for mutants, it was very real, only feral mutants though. For the most part it didn’t mean anything, only a certain feral edge to the feral mutant, even when integrated into society. But putting two together, could cause problems along the way.

Logan had always prided himself on having a steady mind and having patience, at least when it came to living amongst his pack far away from human stresses. But that stupid feral, the one that reeked of coyote instead of wolf, was getting on his nerves. Especially with how they dragged their alpha scent up against the same trees Logan would mark, as if taunting him.

Logan may have been an omega, but that in no way made him weak, that much was clear with just how much of a heavy hitter he was. His usual patience amongst his pack was hanging on a thread though, and when he finally caught that stupid loner feral marking up the spot logan had just marked, then he saw red.

The other feral was younger than Logan, at least he appeared to be, or maybe that was just his mutation. He wasn’t as hairy, not as muscular, more on the lithe nimble side which made him fast. Which made you fast. The circles you ran around logan, nipping at his sides and thighs, jumping away quicker than he could snap back at you, it was all a game.

It was only when you two had travelled deeper into what Logan registered as your territory that he realized what you had done, or at least he thought so. Logan was used to most wanting to pick a fight, so that was what he got ready for, unsheathing his claws and barring his teeth with a feral snarl. The mutant was left confused though, as instead of charging at him with the intent to kill, you just jumped close, nipped at him some more, and jumped back.

Logan wasn’t really sure what to do with that. Maybe hed spent too much time around people, or maybe he was just too old, but having a young buck like you showing such clear interest was new. Logan had had many partners over the years, don’t get him wrong, but no one quite like you. No one as deeply intertwined in their own feral side as he was, at least nobody that wasn’t an enemy.

But Logan also wasn’t gonna act on what was stirring inside him, without knowing how present you were mentally. He knew from experience that some mutants just withdrew into their mind for their own safety, letting their bodies carry on without them being present. You did seem a little confused when Logan sat back on his haunches, staring you down.

“I’m Logan” he finally grunted out, at least wanting to confirm that you understood. You seemed uncomfortable with talking, having most likely been alone for a long time, but relief did fill his system when you replied back, giving your own name.

Getting down onto your stomach, you start dragging yourself towards him, like a more submissive gesture that you wanted to get closer, you wanted him. So, what if some didn’t like omegas that were bigger and stronger than them, you were a man of refined taste, and Logan was the most delicious omega you had ever seen. Plus, hed allowed all your games for so long, if he had really wanted you gone you would be.

Neither of you really liked talking much, instead just relying on the cloying scents hanging in the air, only growing thicker and headier with time as you finally got up between Logans thighs, your sharp canines digging into the strong muscle of it. It was more a request than anything, and had you had a tail you would have been wagging up a storm, as Logan finally huffed and gave a grumble, before rolling onto his front. There wasn’t much presenting in his position, but you really hadn’t expected that from a guy like Logan either, so you didn’t mind.

As you bit your way up Logans thighs, you finally put your jaws into it, lapping up the droplets of blood that escaped before the bites healed back up again. There wasn’t much need for talk in a situation like this, the only noises you cared about were the ways Logan groaned as you buried your face between his cheeks, lapping at whatever you could reach.

Unlike popular belief, omegas didn’t create slick. You guys were just people, with a little bit of extra. So, it wasn’t like Logan was gonna start slicking up and start popping out pups just because you fucked him. Hell, you didn’t even have a knot, if your dick started growing like that you’d start fearing for your health. So really, the whole secondary gender thing for feral mutants didn’t matter much, outside of some changes in pheromones, hormones, and different preferences. You could easily live normal lives without being an alpha or omega posing any problems.

It was most likely the fact that you two had been up here, far away from everything, that had driven you both into such an instinct fuzzy frenzy, your claws digging into the meat of Logans thighs to hold him still, as he snapped his teeth at the air and growled, grinding back against you.

Neither of you had the patience to work Logan open with your fingers, the pitch of Logans noises letting you know that the older mutant didn’t have all day. So, with a few extra wet swirls of your tongue, you finally pulled back, almost clambering up onto his back.

You were skinnier than him, and much less hairy, but it just made it feel extra good as you glued your chest against his spine, your own puffed growls against his ear as you ground against him. Logan gave another growl, one of his hands reaching back to grab onto your hair and wrenching your head to the side, a snapped “get on with it bub” leaving him, voice thick and dangerous.

And who were you to deny him his request. It took some fumbling with your hips to find where it needed to go, since you didn’t want to unwrap your arms from his torso, hands too busy fondling his hairy pecs. Logan groaned as you finally pushed inside, shoving his hips back against yours to make you hurry up, he wasn’t scared of a little pain.

As you bottom out, Logan could at least appreciate one thing about alphas. They may not have knots, or some kind of powerful alpha voice, but shit were they big, and by god did he like being full, something hed blame on his omega needs.

It may have been cold out, but neither of you could feel it, as your bodies moved in rough desperate ways. The forest floor was torn up by Logans claws as he huffed and groaned, the many clearly not one to just moan for no reason. You on the other hand was struggling, face buried against the back of his neck as you panted and keened. You truly were a greenhorn against a seasoned professional, your lesser experience clear in your quickly depleting stamina.

Had it been any other time Logan might have taunted you a little bit. Maybe a few jokes about you not being able to keep up, but right now he just found himself growling that you couldn’t give it to him as hard as he wanted it. Part of it could probably be blamed on his adamantium skeleton and healing factor, but there was also part of you that was trying to be careful. Both for him, but also to keep yourself from finishing to face.

It was damn near impossible, you almost wanted to cry. He was so tight and hot inside, his growls and scent driving you mad. You wanted nothing more than to bite into his neck and mark him as yours, even if you both knew it didn’t really matter in the long run as your healing factors to wipe away any mark or scars you left. It didn’t keep you from licking at your teeth though, your entire body shaking weakly, trying to keep yourself from tumbling over the edge.

You didn’t stand a chance, as Logan seemed to be able to sense or smell just how close you were. So, like the asshole he was, Logan put more energy into his hips, rolling them back against you until you were keening into his neck, hips stuttering and shaking as you mumble out warbled apologies.

Falling limp against his back, you felt not worth your salt. You had tried to entice him for so long, and here you were bursting not even five minutes in, he must be annoyed with you. Count you surprised when Logan makes you pull out, only to flip you onto your back and sit right back down on you, his grin cocky and dominant in ways you just couldn’t match. “don’t worry, pup, we will work on that” he growled, the noise coming from deep in his chest, as he started bouncing in your lap.

One of his rough hands wiped away your tears of overstimulation, looking almost like he was pitying you for picking a fight you just couldn’t win. Hed have you up to par in no time, don’t you worry.

[umadxoxo]

FAMILY MAN [O!Bakugo Katsuki x A!Male Reader] PT.1

Bakugo's hero agency was thriving - doing statistically the best in Japan out of all the agencies at the moment (shove it Deku). He quickly gathered traction up the hero ranking, he made it. This was his dream. The problem though, Bakugo’s area of expertise was fighting, specifically, hand to hand. Quirks that messed with the mind or reality always threw him for a loop. So when he comes across a man with glowing blue fingers, the hero had barely landed his first attack before everything around him vanished into black smoke. And he’s down.

The next thing he knows, he’s in a hospital bed, surrounded by beeping machines and a shit ton of people in white coats. He doesn’t even have time to process his surroundings before he’s being swarmed with people shining penlights in his eyes.

“Get the FUCK OFF ME.” He yelled, shoving a younger looking man out his damn personal space. He was hooked up to all kinds of wires and lines, yanking at them to get them off and out of his body. The sound of the doctors protesting was drowned out by him screaming over them to get away. He gripped the wrists of one of the doctors trying to stop his from pulling the IV out, pushing him away harshly. She fumbled a few steps away, holding her wrist with a pained whimper. “I SAID DON’T TOUCH ME.” There’s a magical freak out there terrorizing people and robbing banks and they want him to stay in this room? Fat fucking chance. A door swung open.

“Bakugo Katsuki.”

The room went silent. The doctors or PAs or whoever the hell all these people are suddenly shut their mouths. That voice. Your voice boomed his name.

The scent of an agitated alpha filled the room. And despite the sour note from the anger, he could recognize the smell almost instantaneously. Suddenly he could hear his own heart beating in his ears.

At the hospital door, stood you. You looked frantic and worried and pissed all at the same time, your clothes were disheveled like you had been running. Your left hand held a death grip on the doorframe while you’re right was on the knob from where you swung the door open. In the nasty florescent lighting of this place, a solid golden ring gleamed on your left hand. So many thoughts started buzzing at once. A wedding ring. You were married - mated. You were in this hospital. You just yelled at him. You looked almost exactly the same as the last day he saw you.

He didn’t know what feelings he was feeling right now.

It’s been years since Bakugo had last seen you, eleven. It made sense that you’d move on, mate with another omega, he made that decision for the both of you. He told you to go to America, to leave him alone. And from what he remembers of that conversation he wasn’t very nice about it.

You started to approach Bakugo slowly, like you’re unsure of what he’ll do. It’s now that he realizes that he’s halfway off this hospital bed from his attempted escape. Your scent starts to even out, the sourness from your anger fades with every step you take closer to him. He wants to speak, to say something to you. To fuck off, or ask why you’re even here, or what you want. But he doesn’t. He lets you come closer, because even after all these years your scent is still the only one that gives him any remote sense of peace. He’s always hated hospitals.

When you do finally reach him, your touch is soft. It’s like you’re scared, you put his face in your hands and your eyes surveyed his features. You seem satisfied with whatever you’re looking for because the hands on his face begin to thread through his hair and now you’re hugging him. You’re hugging him. You’re hugging him. Any anger still left in his body directed towards the staff or you suddenly lifts like a weight off his shoulders. You hold him close like he’s gonna float away with the wind if you don’t.

“You’re okay.” You whispered into his hairline, tucking your nose in on the top of his head. “I was so worried, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here faster. I dropped off Hinata and Ren with your parents.” It sounded like you were talking underwater. All he felt was his scent begin to mingle with yours as you scented him. It felt so nice, to have this feeling again, to have you want to be near him. He wanted to reciprocate the affection.

But he didn’t.

Whatever the hell was happening right now, wasn’t right. Bakugo tucked his arms between the two of you and shoved you away. Confusion flooded your face as you took a step back, your hands still holding on to his shoulders.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

A/N: Hey I’m still alive and well okay ps pt.2

[lexirosewrites]

Day 8: Pregnancy

for @stmarchmm

“Eddie?”

Steve turns to look behind him. It’s too hard to roll onto his back, but he can manage this much.

His alpha seems to be knocked out.

“Eddie,” he tries again, a louder whisper. “Eddie, are you awake?”

There’s a groan in response.

Not completely knocked out then. Good. He has a mission to accomplish.

“Eddie, I need you,” Steve whines. He slips enough desperation into his voice to trigger his mate’s instincts to react.

“Huh?”

Eddie springs upright, hair an absolutely dreadful mess and one eye still closed.

He rubs at his face, trying to quickly clear the sleep from his eyes, before frantically looking at Steve.

“Sweetheart? What’s the matter? Are you okay? Is something wrong with the baby?”

Steve swings an arm back, reaching for his alpha’s hand. Eddie threads their fingers without question.

“Spoon me?”

Eddie pauses.

“Is that why you woke me up?” he asks softly.

He’s not even mad at Steve. Perfect alpha.

“No, but I want cuddles first,” Steve explains.

Strong arms wrap around his middle, not quite able to meet on his full bump anymore. Their pup is growing bigger every day.

“How’s this?”

Steve chirps to show his pleasure. Eddie knows just how to hold him right.

“Perfect, thank you.”

Eddie kisses the back of his neck, then smooches his jawline a few times just for show. Such a loving alpha.

“Anything for you, Stevie. My beautiful omega… mother of our baby.”

He’s so cheesy sometimes.

Steve adores it.

“You may want to reconsider your words, my dear alpha.” He then adds on for good measure, “Father of our baby.”

Eddie’s soft laughter tickles his neck pleasantly.

“Why? Are you going to make me regret them in a moment?”

Steve hums in thought, as if he doesn’t already know exactly why he woke his mate in the first place.

“Maybe. After all, you did say ‘anything’ for me. One might start to wonder if there are limits to that generous offer, Mr. Munson.”

He can’t see Eddie’s smile in the dark.

But Steve sure can feel it against his jaw.

“Why, Mrs. Munson, I do believe I have always been a faithful man of my word,” Eddie croons, playing right along with his attempts to be coy. “Whatever your heart desires, it would be my deepest honor and pleasure to obtain for you.”

Sucker.

“I require five dark chocolate covered pickles.”

The hotel room gets very quiet for a brief moment. Even the taxis outside their window seem to hush.

“Uh. Okay. Is there an actual store that sells such an atrocity or do I need to make a blood sacrifice to obtain those from a demon?”

Steve takes a beat.

“I’d say try the demon first at this hour of the night, but maybe your personal assistant would be a better starting place?” he suggests sweetly, already pushing his luck with yet another outrageous midnight craving.

Their child makes some insane demands.

And Eddie is mostly used to this seeing as they’re seven months into the pregnancy.

Steve really only feels bad for Molly, Eddie’s PA who is regularly charged with very un-rockstar-like errands from the both of them.

She’s an angel, truly. It’s not like Eddie can run to a store himself.

The image of Corroded Coffin’s lead singer being spotted in an LA convenience store in the middle of the night buying melting chocolate and pickles for his pregnant mate would be on the cover of every magazine in the morning.

It’s not exactly the sort of coverage his chart topping band needs.

They try to keep Steve (and by extension, their unborn pup) out of the spotlight completely, even while he travels on tour with his mate.

It’s a delicate balance.

“Remind me to buy her a really nice bottle of wine when we fly to Italy next month,” Eddie groans.

Steve agrees with a purr.

He’s half asleep listening to his alpha make the call from the hotel landline on the night stand, but Eddie assures him afterwards that he’ll have his desecrated pickles in an hour or so.

It’s hard to call pregnancy a hardship with such a devoted mate taking care of him.

And even if he loses the craving for chocolate pickles by the time they arrive, he knows Eddie will still wake for him again the next night when it’s barbecue sauce coated carrots he needs.

“You’re gonna be the best parent,” Steve mumbles sleepily.

“I gotta be in order to keep up with you, Stevie.”

[corazondebeskar-reads]

of rage and ruin - chapter seven

chapter seven

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 3.1k

summary: the fog clears, the morning comes, and you and joel must reckon with what you've done.

chapter warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), body horror, viewer discretion is advised, attempted sexual assault (NOT by joel, very unsuccessful)

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

When you woke some hazy amount of time later, after the last of the heat had burned through your veins, you were curled up against his side. One decidedly human finger, blunt nail and all, was tracing over the curve of your cheek and temple. The rest of the hand followed, brushing over your head and leaving your scalp tingling in its wake. 

You feign sleep just to feel the brush of his knuckles over your cheek, thumb tracing your lips. 

A warm wash of something fond rushes through him. It ain’t love, he knows that. Isn’t sure it ever will be, isn’t sure he’s even capable anymore. But whatever it is fizzes like goosebumps under his skin. 

“Y’ain’t foolin’ me,” he murmurs, soft and low.

You crack the tiniest, crooked smile and press a kiss to his thumb. He pushes it between your lips, which part easily for him. He groans as you stroke it with your tongue, suckling on him and tasting the lingering tart salt of where he’d touched you both. 

“Thought you were all tuckered out.” The words are more of a rumble from his chest than anything, but you’re close enough to make sense of it. 

“Mmm,” you agree sleepily. But you’d be lying if you said the last tendrils of arousal weren’t far more interesting than your fatigue. His thumb is good, but it’s not what you want. 

He chuckles, drawing the digit from your lips, which turn down into a pout. He pinches your bottom lip gently. “None o’ that, darlin’,” he says. “F’you want it, I ain’t gonna stop ya.”

You don’t need to be told twice. 

You help yourself to a seat across his legs and take a moment to just splay yourself across his body, head on his shoulder. The hard, insistent length of his cock is trapped between your soft stomachs and you can feel a thin, sticky trail of his arousal. 

Your lips find his neck in tender, open-mouthed kisses, more intent than finesse. They’re sloppy, a lazy pursuit of his flesh in your mouth as you suck and bite and let the marshmallow fluff that is what’s left of your insides bubble up with the rising warmth of affection, as if you might become full of it otherwise and pop like the Stay Puft Man. 

Nobody wants that, so you cover Joel in the sticky sweetness of your growing fondness. 

There’s none of the urgency, none of the clawing for purchase, the pursuit of teeth and flesh. It’s languid in a way your life hasn’t allowed for in a long, long time. 

The hazy afterglow is intoxicating, and just as neither of you are ignorant to what will come later, neither of you are in a rush to get to it. Let the guilt and hurt and confusion wait. There’s enough time for that. 

No, now is for the last vestiges of easy intimacy. No shame as you lap at his skin, tasting the musk of him, kissing his chest and the thick muss of hair that leads to your prize. 

You take time to kiss his thighs, no more teeth or sharpness to you. His hand finds your head but doesn’t pry or push or guide. It just rests, another point of connection between you, an almost sorrowful attempt to keep the threads that bind you intact. 

The fact that they can never be broken, now, is a conversation for later. Not that you understand, really. There’s a thrum to the wound on your shoulder, a steady throb of alpha, but he knows you don’t really know. That the gravity of what he’s done to you is beyond your reach right now. 

He’s selfish, though, and tucks it away for later. It’ll be hard enough. He steals this moment, greedy for this interval where you don’t fear him anymore and you don’t hate him, yet. 

Because he can’t imagine you’ll ever forgive what he did. What he’s taken from you. What he’s going to keep taking. 

But for now, you’re content to be his, if only for this moment, and he’s painfully aware of how rare content moments are in this world. The wolf wouldn’t dare let him sour your scent with rejection or neglect. And there’s a part of the man, too, that needs this, even if he can’t cope with that yet. 

And he does. Need this, that is. Need you, here, safe and soft and satiated. There’s no pretending you aren’t in hell, with his back pressed against the cold tile walls as he holds you on the world’s tiniest mattress with the flimsy fleece blanket falling from your nude body. It doesn’t cover him but he doesn’t care, doesn’t need it. Hasn’t had the luxury of something like a blanket in years, now, and you, you’re delicate even if you aren’t. Delicate to him while still so strong, with all you have and are and will endure. 

His body could snap yours in an instant. His body could, but he could never. Not you. Not his perfect, precious girl. Never mind that he doesn’t really know you. He knows this you, the one that’s his. And he’ll learn the rest. 

Because there’s nowhere on this wretched earth you could hide from him now. The gentle throb of your own mark on him makes sure of that. He will always find you. His girl. His omega. 

His. 

Any other thoughts are lost as you nuzzle your cheek against his balls, peppering tbem with gentle kisses and little kitten licks. He groans, pulling one leg back to make room for you to settle in, to make a little nest for yourself to do as you please. And he’s more than happy to let you do as you please with his body. As far as he’s concerned, it’s all for you. Oh, God, especially if you keep doing that. He moans as you cradle his balls, feeding them gently into the warm cavern of your mouth. 

“Fuuuck,” he groans, head tipping back, hand cupping your cheek.

His balls are musky with three days of dried cum and sweat, but it’s ambrosia. You can’t get enough, nose buried between his cock and sac, licking at them like a velvet delicacy. It’s still not enough. Maybe nothing will be enough, but you take one in your mouth, rolling it on your tongue and groaning. They’re already swollen, heavy, and heady. 

It’s still not enough, so you use your hand to help accommodate both.   

He can’t help but buck his hips a little when he feels the way your cheeks bulge, stuffed so full of his balls as you lick and suck so gently, almost reverently. “Ah, darlin’, please,” he gasps when your hand curls around his shaft, tightly at the base and squeezes. 

You take pity on him and press a kiss to each ball before pulling away to suck little tiny kisses along the underside of his cock. His thighs tense around you, holding so, so still so he doesn’t jerk and hurt you. The wolf is quiet, the worries are quiet, it’s just you. You and him. 

His heels dig into the mattress, every line of his body taut. He’s not even sure what form he’s in anymore, because it doesn’t fucking matter. The only thing that matters is your hot mouth as you ease the fat tip of his aching cock between your lips, a tight seal locking him in like it’s his knot in your cunt. You suck without mercy, tongue lapping at him, the rest of his cock neglected as you orchestrate this sweet torture. 

His fist falls from you to smack against the mattress, nails digging into his palm as he swears low and slow. 

“Baby. Darlin’, please,” he begs, unabashed. You’re the only one he’d plead for. Only one in the world he’d give himself to like this. After all, you’ve given him everything. Everything that you are, everything that you’ll ever be, it’s all his now. It’s only fair if you have all of him in return.

And, oh, you take all of him. One inch at a time, you take all of him into heaven, your throat pried open by his girth. It’s not an easy task, but you’ve devoted yourself to it. He wouldn’t have minded if you couldn’t; knows he’s not an easy man to accommodate. Would have still lost his goddamn mind in the embrace of your mouth and caress of your tongue.

But you’re determined, and he’s soon to learn you ain’t a quitter. Not when you want somethin’. And he learns that when his cock hits the back of your throat, and you gag, fingers digging into his thighs as you hold on for leverage, but you don’t fuckin’ back down.

“Tha’s it,” he breathes, a shuddery gasp as he feels you constrict around him, choking his cock like it’s choking you. “So good, honey. So fuckin’ good to me.” 

It takes an effort on your part that he feels deeply guilty about to bring him to orgasm. To be fair, he’s not getting any younger, and he’d spilled load after load into your greedy pussy during your heat. But he sees that steadfast determination again as he offers to finish with his hand, and you shoot him a nasty, reproachful look, smacking his hand away like he’s tried to take a bowl away from a starving mutt. 

For all that you complain about omegas being just extra-wet humans, he can see the feral wolf behind your eyes. Sure, you’ll never turn. It’s not in your nature, the physical change. But you’re on the same leash as him, really. 

He cups your cheek as you swallow him down, a strained whine seeping from gritted teeth as he spills down your throat. His mind goes to white and static and you. 

He guides you off his softening cock, and you scoot up to rest your head on his belly. One hand idly plays with the hair scattered there, while one of his traces lazy spirals on your shoulder. 

You blink lazily up at him, and that’s the only way he realizes he’s gone half wolf. The possessive beast can’t stay away, and to his very human chagrin, he leans down and licks your face from chin to cheek before lapping at the mark on your shoulder. It’s already healing, but just for good measure. 

Since you arrived, Joel had spent more time human than he had in the last three years combined. It was a constant effort, when he did. To remember. To be gentle. To be… exposed. 

He had stayed carefully delineated, either man or wolf. 

He can’t really maintain it anymore. But you don’t seem to mind. Don’t seem to mind when his muzzle stretches, when the hair gets thicker all over his body. When his teeth sharpen, or his claws. 

No, you don’t seem to mind at all. 

You sigh softly, and it’s achingly affectionate. You’re still hazy, floating in the afterglow of your heat, all sweet submission and peace. He wants to burrow you away somewhere, keep you cozy and hidden away from the cruelty of your life. 

“It fuckin’ stinks in here,” groans one of the men you call the Idiot Twins. 

Joel snarls, brought to humiliation for the second time in ten minutes as he realizes he was too caught up in you to hear someone come down. 

Two someones. It’s both of them this time, laden with trays of food to make up for the days you went without. His, as usual, is piled high with thick cuts of raw meat and starchy vegetables.

Yours, though, makes him scowl. Just broth, it’s always just fuckin’ broth, the stock leftover from the meat they cook for themselves. That or oatmeal. 

The raiders keep up a banter about the smell of sex and sweat that permeates the cellar now. One starts up lewd comments about your bare body, and Joel growls, hackles raising. 

He tries to ignore them and hands you a bowl of roasted potatoes when one of them suddenly slams his baton against the door. “No,” he says. “That ain’t for her. Drop it, bitch.”

“I’ll give her my food if I fuckin’ want,” Joel sneers.

“You’ll keep to your own trays, or she’s goin’ back across the hall. We ain’t wastin’ that on your little whore.” 

You put a hand on Joel’s arm. “It’s not worth it,” you mutter. “I’m fine.” As if he can’t hear your stomach rumble most of the time. As if he hasn’t noticed the general malaise about you, as you scrape by on literal scraps.

You can feel the rumble of his discontent but he snaps his mouth shut, jaw working overtime. 

“Speaking of,” one of the men says, a sharp smirk growing. “C’mere, bitch.”

Joel bristles again and you try to ignore him. 

“I said come here,” Tall, Dumb, and Ugly repeats. “Now. Or you’re gonna get it good.” He taps his baton against the bars. 

When he calls you over, something prickles, rankling the hair on the back of his neck. It’s probably nothing. It’s probably wash day. It’s probably something normal.

But it doesn’t feel like it.

He watches you go, resisting the urge to pull you back to him, to tuck you close to his body, to keep you where no one can see you behind his bulk.

But he watches you go.

He regrets it immediately. 

“Down on your knees, hands behind your head,” the thug barks, but he doesn’t wait. He pushes you down, and one hand grabs the back of your neck. 

The other goes to his belt. 

Joel’s off his ass and at the gate in an instant, but he can’t reach. He can only watch as you try to rear back.

“Hey, man, I dunno if that’s a good idea,” says the other raider, to the surprise of everyone.

“Jim keeps a girl. Chris keeps a girl. We ain’t allowed, but the fuckin’ pet gets a pet? Nah, man. I’m gettin’ my share.” 

You meet Joel’s eyes from the corner of yours, and somehow, somehow, he knows what you’re not asking. He bares his teeth, snarling, and you lunge.

Your teeth sink into the raider’s arm before he can get his dick out, and you show no fucking mercy. 

Joel howls, loud and nasty, a threat, as you bite down hard. You’ve never bitten a person before, let alone hard enough to break skin.

Oh, and you do. You’re merciless. Your first act of real violence and it’s brutal. Hot, coppery blood floods around your teeth and you pull away, spitting repeatedly.

The man is screaming, clutching his arm, demanding that his compatriot do something, but the other raider is backing away slowly. 

There’s a clattering of heavy boots down the stairs, and Jim comes around the corner with his pistol raised. 

“No!” Joel yells, reaching for you as you scramble back to where he can reach you. 

“Get in there,” Jim snaps at the man you bit.

“Fuckin’ shoot her; she bit me,” he argues.

“Get in there, or I’ll shoot you,” Jim barks. 

The accomplice and another man who’d come with Jim grab the injured motherfucker by the arms and throw him in what used to be your prison across the hall. Jim hauls you up by the elbow and points the gun at Joel, who backs away immediately. 

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t blow her fuckin’ brains out,” he hisses.

“I made her do it,” Joel says quickly. “I made her bite him. He was trying to touch what’s mine.”

“Tch,” Jim sneers. “Bullshit.”

“You fuckin’ listen to me, Jim,” Joel snarls around his fangs. “I told her to do it, and she’s my omega. Don’t you know she gotta listen to me? She can’t tell me no.” 

Jim hesitates, glowering. The pistol knocks a little whimper from you, pressing against the side of your head.

“I’m serious,” Joel pushes. “Everyone fuckin’ knows omegas can’t disobey a direct order.”

That’ll do it. He knows Jim hates to be made to look stupid. 

“Fine,” Jim says gruffly. Joel backs away so Jim can open the door, tossing you inside.

“Watch him,” he says to one of his henchmen, jerking a head to the door across the hall. 

“What? Why?”

“Because we don’t know if her bite can turn him. Watch him. If he starts actin’ funny, call me.”

You’re not really sure how he got you over to the mattress without your notice, but he’s there, crowding over you, hands patting your face, turning your head to inspect your neck, running down your arms. He’s meticulous, and you sit still for it, in a bit of a daze.

“E-everything happened so fast,” you whisper eventually, and his hands come up to cup your cheeks. 

“Wasn’t your fault. You did good. You did so good,” he says, pulling you close. 

“He was gonna…”

“I know. I know, darlin’.”

His heart beats steady under your ear, one large palm cradling your head there and the other keeping you tucked in close. He rocks you a little, though you don’t think he knows he’s doing it. The gravel and rumble of his voice, his assurances that should be patronizing, his sharp claws so close to your delicate flesh, it should all have you pushing away.

But you don’t. Instead, you wrap your arms around his chest and burrow in, eyes squeezed shut tight against the burn and sting of residual fear. 

“Were you telling the truth?” you ask quietly after a while.

“Hmm?” 

“About the whole obeying orders thing. Can you… force me to do things?”

He snorts. “Course not. But he bought it, didn’t he? Doesn’t know a damn thing.”

The answer sits unsteady between your ribs. You want to believe him. You do. But you can’t forget the way his words make you feel sometimes, like you’re moving through sludge, like you’re drawn to him by some cosmic leash. 

You want to believe him.

But you don’t.

next chapter

[alltimecharlo]

Yk the thing where if a cat falls asleep in your lap, you feel like you can’t move/disturb them? Can you do a ficlet where Mack falls asleep on top of Will so he’s stuck? And like Will cancels plans with Toff bc of it. Teasing ensues of course

(Maybe abo?)

cute cute cute!! i went with abo! this is omega mack and alpha will :) 🩵

Mack falls asleep on him mid-movie, which, honestly, isn’t unusual. What’s unusual is the sound.

Will freezes the moment he hears it. A soft, rhythmic hum vibrating low against his chest, right over his sternum, where Mack has somehow ended up sprawled across him like a weighted blanket in a hoodie. His cheek’s pressed to Will’s t-shirt, nose tucked just below Will’s collarbone, one arm slung limply across his stomach.

And he’s purring.

Like. Actually purring.

Will doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. He cranes his neck slowly to glance down and, yep, there it is—Macklin Celebrini, most competitive rookie in the league, secret overthinker, alpha-annoying overachiever, dead asleep and purring softly like some oversized, exhausted cat.

“Oh my god,” Will whispers.

He’s never heard it before. Has only read about it in those late-night forums where other alphas post things like “My omega purred for the first time, what does it mean?” and a hundred strangers show up to say things like “He trusts you” or “You’re his safe space now.”

Will’s heart does something strange and soft in his chest.

Mack had been running himself into the ground lately. First one on the ice. Last one off. More reps than anyone, more tape to study, always trying to prove that being drafted top wasn’t a fluke. Will had tried to say something, once or twice, but Mack would just blink at him and say, “I’m fine,” even when he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

Apparently he just needed to crash.

And he chose Will to do it on.

The movie drones on. Will can’t even remember what it is—something Delly recommended, probably, some weird true crime documentary that neither of them were paying attention to after the first ten minutes. Will’s phone buzzes on the coffee table, and he just barely manages to stretch his free arm and snag it without jostling Mack.

Toff

yo u guys still coming or what

Will glances down. Mack snuffles softly in his sleep, face smushed against Will’s chest like a pillow he never wants to give up. His purr thrums steadily through Will’s ribs, warm and weirdly hypnotic.

He types back with one hand.

Will

can’t. mack is asleep on top of me and he’s purring.

The dots appear almost instantly. Then:

Toff

Lmaooo

Toff

U are literally a mattress now congrats

Toff

God i hope you have to pee

Toff

I’m telling Eky. This is gold.

Will rolls his eyes and gently puts his phone down, shifting just enough to tuck a throw blanket over Mack’s back. He doesn’t wake. Just nuzzles a little deeper, purr hitching for a second before settling again.

Will exhales slowly.

He could move. Technically. But Mack looks peaceful in a way he almost never does—not even post-game, not even in their quietest moments—and Will would rather be buried alive under six feet of offensive zone drills than risk disturbing that.

So he stays put. Lets his arm curl a little tighter around Mack’s back. Threads his fingers into the soft fabric of Mack’s hoodie, just to keep them there. He even closes his eyes for a while, content to be still, to feel every little vibration of trust and comfort humming through him like a lullaby.

Eventually, Mack stirs.

It’s subtle. A twitch of fingers. A sleepy exhale. His nose scrunches slightly against Will’s shirt before he lifts his head, blinking slowly like he’s forgotten where he is.

“…Did I fall asleep?”

Will smiles. “Yeah. You were purring.”

Mack goes still.

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You were. Like, full-on motorboat mode.”

“I don’t purr.”

“Babe,” Will says, grin stretching wider. “You made me cancel our plans with Toff because I couldn’t move. You purr.”

Mack groans and drops his face back down onto Will’s chest. “Kill me.”

“Never,” Will says cheerfully. “You felt safe. It was cute as hell.”

“You’re the worst.”

“You love me.”

A long pause.

Then, muffled: “Shut up.”

Will kisses the top of his head.

♡

[zepskies]

Against the Wind - Epilogue

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Dropping this a bit early since tomorrow's a holiday!~ But here we're finally getting to the unplanned epilogue for ATW! The claim bond in this is not unlike the soulmate AU I just wrote for Beau. Guess I have a type on this stuff. 😂 Get ready for some family feels! 🥰

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Posted on Patreon: 4/13/2025

Word Count: 4.2K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff and more fluff, smidge of angst, hint of jealous alpha Dean, tinge of spice~

🧡 Series Masterlist

Epilogue: Shelter

"Someone told me there's a girl out there, with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair..."

You’ve given him a new reason to love Zeppelin IV, Dean thinks. He sneaks another glance at you. The two of you haven’t said anything for almost an hour on this two-day road trip, now almost at an end. But when you notice his gaze on you, the smile you give him is golden.

It makes him feel a little boyish and dumb, like he’s a teenager getting caught staring at his crush. His face starts to get warm, his lips curving upward, so he clears his throat and focuses back on the stretch of road ahead.

The scenery has turned rural, with stretches of wheat-yellow grass and patches of forest on either side of the gray, gravel strip. Out here in Northern California, it’s not so bad as its southern menace—cities like L.A., San Francisco, and Sacramento. Dean can roll the windows down out here and not be assaulted by the mingling scents of exhaust, vegan Tex Mex, overpriced cologne, and broken fucking dreams. 

“Almost there,” Dean says, lowering the radio a bit. He points to a big curve in the road up ahead. “If I remember right, we’ve just got this stretch to go.”

You suck in a subtle, but noticeable breath.

“Great.”

Your voice is a little high. Dean raises a brow at you. He concentrates for a moment to suss you out, and he feels a thread of your anxiety through the bond. It’s been just over two weeks since he claimed you, but in that time living such close quarters, practically breathing each other’s air day in and day out, he hasn’t just been getting to know you a hell of a lot more. He’s also starting to understand this private WIFI connection you guys have going on.

Sam tried to explain it to him once, what it feels like after the claim.

“It’s like the world just…shifts on its axis a bit,” he said. “Your awareness expands. You’re connected, in a way that’s kind of…well, it’s hard to explain.”

“Okay, Obi Wan,” Dean chortled. He eyed his brother with amusement, but also with a slight shake of his head. The guy looked fucking twitterpated.

Sam shot him a wry look. “All right, Dean. Just wait. If you ever take that step with an omega, you’ll see. It changes everything.”

Dean held in another snort of laughter. If? Fat fucking chance.

He had no illusions about his life. Not at this point. They both knew he was probably going to die in this bunker, or more likely, on one of these solo hunts he’d started pulling. Sam was busy packing, ready to move out and settle down with Eileen, his mate, his omega—ready to leave his old life behind, and his brother along with it.

Dean was happy for him though. Of fucking course, he was.

He raised the glass of cheap whiskey to his lips. 

Dean considers you with half a smile, reaching over smooth a hand along your thigh.

“You okay, ‘Mega?” he asks.

Your lower lip gets pulled between your teeth. You nibble on it, even as you slip your hand over his. You turn to him with a question in your eyes. He already knows the answer, even before you ask.

“I know this was my idea, but you still think this is… It’s not too soon?” you ask.

Dean shakes his head. “Nah. He’s gonna like you, sweetheart. They all will.”

“Oh, yeah? How do you know?”

He tosses you a grin. “Because I like you. And I’m an excellent judge of character.”

He punctuates his point with a kiss pressed to the back of your hand. Your lips tug at a smile.

Mission accomplished.

“Don’t you think you’re a little biased?” you tease.

He shrugs, but his crinkly-eyed grin says it all. You settle back in your seat and relax a little better for the rest of the ride. 

You can’t help it. Your anxiety swells back to life as the Impala pulls up the slight hill into a U-shaped driveway, rolling to a stop at a modest ranch-style house. It’s mostly made of rust-colored brick, a white roof with pale gray tiles. Even the walk-up to the porch is lined with brick and white stones. You also notice a little green toddler bike lying on its side in the front yard, where it seems to have dented a sprinkler.

You tread carefully up the pavement on your crutches.

Yeah, your ankle is unfortunately still busted; fractured, to be exact. You’ll be wearing this big ol’ boot on your right foot for two more months at least, but Dean has a hand resting comfortably on the small of your back, a support you appreciate. He gives you one last knowing smile, his thumb brushing your spine.

Then he knocks on the door. His brother and his wife know you and Dean are coming, but it’s still a little nerve-wracking, now knowing what you know about your mate and his family. You know about monsters and terrible, evil things mostly put to rest. You know that Sam and Dean Winchester have quite literally saved the world, more than once.

But it’s not just that. You’re about to meet the only family Dean has left in this world. What if they take one look at you and know you’re not like them? What if they think you’re not enough for someone like Dean?

“Hey,” he says, his deep voice washing over you.

You glance up at your mate, biting the inside of your cheek. Can he feel your nervousness through the bond? You try to bottle it all back up where it belongs, but you’re not really sure how to do that yet. You don’t know if that will change the longer you get used to the soul bond thrumming in your chest, but right now, it feels impossible to hide anything from this green-eyed mountain of an alpha.

Dean shoots you a wink.

The door opens. An even taller lumberjack takes up the entire doorway with his broad shoulders, a light beard down to his neck, and longer, darker hair almost brushing his shoulders. He brightens with a smile when he takes in you and Dean, especially his brother.

He chuckles and pulls Dean into a grappling hug. Dean’s smile is ear-to-ear as he wraps his arms tight around his little brother’s frame, thumping his back with a widespread hand.

“There he is,” Dean says. “But what’d I tell you about that shag carpet on your face? You look like a fucking hippie.”

Sam rolls his eyes. Just as he’s about to answer, no doubt with a dry retort, the patter of little feet come sprinting over, and something knocks heavy into Dean’s bowlegged knees. He looks down and breaks into a new smile, even warmer than the last.

“Hey, little man,” Dean says, bending low to scoop the two-year-old into his arms. The toddler giggles at being raised as high up as his dad carries him.

“Unc!” Dean Jr. exclaims, raising small hands to Dean Sr.’s prickly cheeks. Dean grins and settles the boy on his side.

“You remember me?” he asks.

“‘Course he does,” Sam says, rubbing his son’s back. “He’s always hearing stories of his Uncle Dean. I show him the old pictures too.”

The brothers share a look, one that communicates without speaking. Dean’s is bittersweet and sorry. Sorry it took so long for him to get back here. Sorry for what he’s probably missed. But Sam’s smile isn’t judging, just happy to see him. He turns to you though, apologetically.

“I’m sorry, getting carried away here. Hi, how are you?” he asks.

Dean finally notices you keeping to the side, watching them with a soft smile of your own. You step forward to shake Sam’s hand, carefully taking yours off your right crutch. Dean clears his throat and moves to slip his arm back around your waist, not just for the physical support, but for solidarity.

After you introduce yourselves, Dean finally chimes in.

“Sammy, this is my mate,” he says. The pride and warmth in his eyes are evident as he squeezes your shoulder. Your face heats in a blush, but when you look over at Sam, all you see is a sincere welcome.

“Yeah, I was glad to hear someone finally tied him down,” he says. But then, his good humor sobers, becoming more earnest. “I also heard about your dad. I’m really sorry.”

You shutter up at that one. You’re both surprised and unsurprised, knowing Dean must’ve told him the full story of how you two met, but the mention of your father still makes your lungs tighten. You manage to smile a little.

“Thank you,” you reply. Dean squeezes your shoulder again, his thumb brushing your neck. You lean into him a little, bringing you face to face with Sam’s mini-me, who still hangs on Dean’s shoulder while he stares at you. “Mini Dean” has those big brown eyes that you saw in all the pictures on Dean’s phone, now with shaggier hair and a sweet-as-pie grin.

“Hi,” Mini Dean says shyly.

“Hey, buddy! You’ve almost got your whole fist in your mouth, huh?” you tease, stroking the toddler’s wrist. He looks a little unsure of you, but he reaches out and grabs at a piece of your hair. You let him do it.

“Ooh, you caught me, huh?”

He giggles, especially when you playfully poke your tongue out at him.

Dean’s smirking hard enough to make his cheeks hurt. His gaze lifts from watching you with his nephew and lands on Sam’s softer smile.

Sam welcomes you all into the house, where Eileen finally comes to meet you all. She looks a little frazzled, but still beautiful. Her dark brown eyes take you in before she greets you kindly. She and Sam look just as casual as you and Dean, jeans and flannels or comfortable sweaters.

Lots of flannel, you notice, with your mate and his brother.

“Sorry, was working on dinner,” she says, with an embarrassed smile. “Hope you guys like burnt chili.”

“Honestly I don’t think you can burn chili,” you say, as she leads you all further into the house. “It just enhances the smokiness.”

“Smells good to me,” Dean says. “And right on time, too.” The mention of food is already making his stomach rumble to life. You toss him a look over your shoulder, smiling in amusement. You reach back at pat your man’s stomach.

“You’re always ready to go,” you tease. He grabs onto your hand. It makes you stop for a moment, since you kind of need that hand for your crutch.

“Got that right, baby. Locked and loaded,” he whispers suggestively near your ear. Your eyes widen. You shush him with a laugh, covering his nephew’s ears. He’s incorrigible.

“Already corrupting my son, huh?” Sam says. His tone is censuring, but still amused when he takes Dean Jr. off his brother’s hands.

“Aw, who else is gonna educate the kid?” Dean jokes.

“He’s two,” Sam says dryly. “Maybe wait until he’s in preschool, at least.”

Eileen had nothing to worry about, and not only because your mate always inhales his food (and seconds and thirds) like it’s his last meal. She even made cornbread to go along with the chili.

“From a box,” she’d said demurely.

Regardless, there’s nothing quite like a good hearty bowl of the stuff with a beer and nice, warm, buttery cornbread. Sam even bought a Dutch apple pie for dessert, sending his brother a knowing look when he brings it out.

You all talk and laugh and share stories throughout dinner, even after the conversation moves from the dining table to the living room, where Dean Jr. takes turns getting doted on. He starts out in Eileen’s lap with one of his toys, but then he goes to his name’s sake, even giving Dean an action figure to engage him in battle.

After a while though, the boy starts to get sleepy. He tuckers out on the couch between you and Dean, half splayed in your lap with his head resting in the crook of your arm, while Dean has his sock-covered feet.

“Okay, we should probably get that one officially to bed,” Sam says, jutting a chin over at his son in amusement.

You feel special that the toddler already felt comfortable enough with you to literally fall asleep in your arms, but you glance down at his head with a smile.

“Aw, I’m okay being his body pillow. I’ll just sleep sitting up,” you say, laughing.

Eileen smiles and shakes her head. She signs as she says, “He’s already got you wrapped around his finger.”

“One hundred percent,” you giggle. You grab at his little feet, gently so he doesn’t wake up. “I mean, look at these! I just wanna eat ‘em.”

You look up and happen to meet Dean’s gaze. He hides a grin behind his right hand from where he’s reclined in his corner of the couch. His left hand holds a beer perched on his jean-clad thigh. His eyes, however, roam over you and his nephew with a certain gleam. A blush warms your cheeks.

Eileen eventually takes the little one off your hands. You playfully pout as he leaves you, but it gives you the chance to get up and stretch—and find the bathroom. Sam and Dean are left to sit in a comfortable silence that lingers, just until Dean inhales a deep breath.

“Gotta hand it to you, Sammy. You ain’t done half bad,” he says.

Sam quirks a brow, beginning to smile. “I could say the same to you.”

Dean’s lips twitch, but he stares down at his beer. Something uncertain passes through his eyes.

“How much have you told her?” Sam asks.

“Enough,” Dean replies, after a pause. “More than I fucking wanted to, really. It all just kind of…happened.”

Sam’s mouth quirks at the corners. “Stuck in a cabin for two weeks. Hell of a way to get through the get to know you, phase.”

At that, Dean smirks. “Yeah well, after the heavy shit, we weren’t doing all that much talking.”

Sam sighs, rolling his eyes. But he’s happy for his brother—happy and relieved. Dean’s wellbeing has been a weight on Sam’s mind ever since he left the bunker. No matter how many phone calls and texts, some going unanswered for longer stretches than Sam would like, part of him has felt the familiar guilt of starting over, even though he logically knew he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He just underestimated, again, how hard it would be for Dean.  

Hell, he felt he had to hike up to a cabin in the damn mountains just for something different, a change of pace from drinking alone in the bunker. Sam wonders if Dean was embracing the solitude at that point, or if he was even planning to come back down the mountain.

And despite Jack’s promise to be “hands off,” Sam also wonders if their friend Upstairs had a hand in how you fell while hiking that day. Injuring your ankle. The blizzard. Had it all literally been the perfect storm?

Sam will never voice the thought out loud though. He’s just grateful…even if it is strange as hell to see Dean this way. All night, the man had never strayed very far from your side. He’s been there to reach out a helping hand to you whenever you needed to get up from your seat, raising yourself on your crutches.

And the way you two look at each other. Sometimes it’s just a check-in, a brief touch, and a confirmation. Sometimes it looks like an inside joke, with Dean’s suggestively waggling brows and signature smirk. (You usually look away first, as if fighting a blush.) But sometimes, it’s like a whole conversation passes between you and Dean in just that one moment.

Is that what Sam’s own bond looks like with his mate?

Probably, he thinks with a smile.

“It changed everything, right?” Sam asks.

Finding her. Claiming her. Dean understands what his brother’s getting at with those unspoken words. His gaze rises from his beer. He stares back at Sam and shakes his head.

“Yeah,” he agrees, however reluctantly.

It’s a heavy fucking weight of responsibility, with the lives they’ve led and the enemies they’ve made along the way, but Dean can’t bring himself to regret it. There’s too much of you in his heart already, filling those jagged, frayed, broken parts with smooth muscle and sinew, and new red life blood pumping again.

What he said to you that night still rings true.

It’s too damn late to let go.

That night, Dean falls asleep before you. His light snorts fill the guest room, and after almost a whole day on the road, you’d love nothing more than to join him in dreamland. You’re not sure what’s stopping you. It could be that it usually takes you a while to fall asleep in a new place and an unfamiliar bed, but it could also be your overactive mind still racing with today, and possibilities of tomorrow.

Sam and Eileen had offered for you and Dean to stay for a few days before you continued on your way, or even a week if you wanted. After that, Dean had agreed to take you home and meet your mom. After that though, what? Your job hadn’t been so understanding when you called and told them you’d gotten snowed in a cabin in Montana of all places, with no access to cell service or internet for almost a month.

So yeah, they let you go. It wasn’t a job you were in love with, and of course, meeting Dean is worth more to you than any job…but it had been paying your bills, even while living at your mother's house to help her after your dad's death.

I’ll figure it out…we’ll figure it out, you remind yourself. You’re eventually planning to go back with Dean to that bunker he’s been talking about. At least it’s in Kansas, somewhat close to your sister. From there, you’ll both have figure out the job thing, and potentially the house thing. You’re not totally sure about living in a bunker. 

These thoughts keep you up long enough that you heave a sigh and slip out of bed. A drink of water (and a few minutes of mindless pacing) might settle you a little. Somehow, the last thing you expected upon entering the kitchen was to run into Sam boiling water on the stove. He looks over his shoulder at you in surprise.

“Uh, hey,” he says.

“Heyyy,” you give an awkward wave. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Haven’t tried yet,” he admits. “Dean woke up about an hour after we set him down. He’s been finnicky, but finally got him to lay back down.”

At first you’re confused, until it hits you.

“Ah, you mean Mini Dean,” you say, smiling. “Aw, poor baby. He’s at that stage, huh?”

He chuckles wryly. “It’s called Terrible Twos for a reason. Want some tea?” He gestures at the mug he has waiting on the counter.

You agree, thanking him before you sit down at the two-seater breakfast nook in the kitchen. He pours you a mug as well and sits across from you. Silence threatens to reign between you, but you eventually break it.

“Thank you, by the way. For having me here too,” you say. “I know you weren’t exactly expecting me.”

Sam breaks into a smile. “Honestly, I’m the one who should probably be thanking you.”

You blink in surprise.

“Me? I haven’t done anything.” Your lips pull at a smile though, your fingertip tracing the rim of your mug. “Dean’s the one who took care of me. Still is, really. He’s the one who saved me, more than once.”

Sam tilts his head in acknowledgement. “Yeah, I don’t doubt that. But, uh, something tells me you saved him a little too.”

You look up at that, mostly in disbelief. You gave Dean a headache from the beginning. You’d needed his help all the time with your damn ankle. You poked your nose into his business, invaded his privacy, almost got him killed hunting that monster. What was it? Ah, right. A fucking Wendigo.

After all of it, he came back to you. He brought you closure for your father’s death, and held you when you fell apart. And when you kissed him, asked him with your whole heart to let you in, he broke through his own reservations to do it.

“Even if I did, it probably doesn’t even put a dent in what I owe him,” you say after a moment. Tears sting in your eyes, though you try to blink them away, taking in a subtle breath to try and steady yourself.

Sam’s eyes soften. He reaches across the small table and lays a hand on your arm.

“Trust me. I think he’d say you don’t owe him a damn thing,” he says.

You utter a laugh, though you try to keep it quiet. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

You’re about to thank him for real when a low, gravel-filled growl echoes through the kitchen. You and Sam raise your heads to the doorway, where Dean stands in a plain shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His hair is mussed in sleep, but his face is firm with a tired frown. His gaze is homed in on Sam’s hand resting on your arm.

Sam slowly takes his hand back, quirking a brow at his brother.

“Alpha?” you carefully ask your mate.

Dean blinks a few times once your voice registers in his mind. He seems to come back to himself, shaking his head a bit. He clears his throat and pads over to you guys on bare feet. He drops a hand across your shoulder and down your back. You’re not sure if it’s meant to be possessive or not, but it almost makes you laugh. You manage to hold it in though.

“Hey,” Dean says.

Sam lets out an incredulous chuckle. You understand why. Was Dean really just going to try and pretend nothing just happened?

“Did you just growl at me?” Sam says.

Dean’s lips purse, but he doesn’t answer right away.

Yeah, he was totally going to try and pretend nothing just happened. You bite your lip against a smile.

“Sorry,” Dean says, scratching at the back of his neck. “Uh…so what’s up? You guys having some sort of insomnia party out here?”

Sam snorts. “No. I’m heading to bed actually. Good night, guys.”

“Good night, Sam,” you say. The two of you share an amused look before he leaves. It’s quick, but it’s enough to make Dean roll his eyes as he fights his embarrassment.

You begin to stand up from the table, reaching for your crutch. Dean helps you instead and settles both hands on your waist. You slip your hands up his forearms and curl them around his biceps.

“We were just talking,” you say knowingly. Then, a teasing smile plays on your lips. “About you actually.”

Dean raises a brow. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “All good things. So you can relax.”

His green eyes are a shade or two darker, his inner alpha having risen to the surface. Half-asleep as he’d been when he walked into the kitchen, his instincts were more dominant than his brain in that moment, especially at seeing you and his brother looking a little too chummy.

Dean wraps his arms around your waist and gathers you to his chest.

You can’t help purring in response. He grins, his eyes half-lidded as his gaze roams over you.

“What if I don’t wanna relax?” he says. The depths in his voice make you shiver, and even smile, but you give him a warning look.

“You’re shameless, you know that? We’re in your brother’s house.”

“Aw, he won’t mind.”

You scoff in disbelief. Dean tilts his head with half a smile. He knew you wouldn’t buy that one.

“Eh, it’s all right. He knows how I am,” he says, right before he bows his head for a nipping kiss along your neck. A breathless squeal escapes you, even though you try to contain it. You swat his shoulder.

“Alpha,” you warn. Once again, you try to temper your smile. Dean is only encouraged. His lips and warm breath tease along the edge of your mating gland on purpose, buckling your knees a little. A short whine escapes your lips, and a tremble of arousal pools slick between your legs. You don’t want to let him win on this one, but damn him, he’s playing dirty.

You grab his head, tangling your fingers in his hair, and pull him to your lips for a proper kiss. There he licks into your mouth and pulls a soft moan from deep inside you.

“Okay,” you give up. “But we have to be—”

Dean hooks his arms around your shoulders and under your knees and swiftly carries you up, forgetting your crutches behind. You have to smother your giggles with both hands while he takes you back to bed.

AN: lol Dean's insatiable, but we all knew that. 😆 I know it's been a while, but I hope you guys enjoy this little epilogue for ATW! In my head, she and Dean go on to have little adventures together after he meets her family. Like little dates and road trips to all the places Dean has enjoyed the most on his cross-country travels.

(And then maybe a couple of kids once they get settled in their own little cabin.) 🧡

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[redbirdandbluebird23]

Solutions for Biting

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Written for @jaydick-week and @omegajasontoddweek 2025

Dick's growl is the only thing that alerts Jason to his presence, and is also the only reason the asshole who'd gone for a submission bite on Jason's neck (which is protectively reinforced so it wouldn't have worked anyway) doesn't end up with his throat ripped out.

Jason twists and puts himself between Dick and the asshole in question while also shoving the asshole to the floor. He throws an arm out across Dick's chest to stop him following to the floor, but it doesn't stop the audible click of Dick’s teeth as he snaps in the asshole’s direction, nor the absolutely bone-chilling growl that splits the air between them. Jason's half tempted to just let him have at it, but he really doesn't want anymore lectures from Bruce about Dick's protective-possessive biting habits.

"I really should let him rip your throat out." Jason drawls, as the asshole rolls over to look up at them.

He takes one look at Dick - at the black suit with dark blue accents and the black veins spidering across his pale skin - and tries to scoot backwards on his hands while letting out the most pathetic whimper Jason thinks he's ever heard.

Jason pulls a couple of zip ties out of his belt and quickly immobilises him, who's attention is now completely on Dick's still bared teeth. He sends Babs an alert so she can inform the local PD to come by and pick him up, and then he gives Dick a look he knows Dick will be able to read, even through the helmet, before grappling up onto a nearby rooftop. Dick follows, landing on silent feet behind him as he pulls his helmet off and shakes his curls out.

Dick's on him immediately; hands running all over him to check for any injuries or compromises in his armour. Jason lets him, knows it's something that helps Dick's alpha hind-brain calm down, especially when another alpha just had their teeth so close to his omega's neck.

"'m fine, ‘Wing." Jason assures him, catching his hands and threading their fingers together.

"Too close." Dick says, his voice catching on a couple of the syllables, even after all these years.

"That's what the armour is for." Jason reminds him, knowing that doesn't make much of a difference. Dick's instincts have always been a little skewed because of how young he was when the court took him, he'd never been taught to or had the opportunity to learn how to reign in the more possessive and protective aspects of an alpha's nature, more so since he already lost Jason once. And even more so now since they mated the year before.

Dick gives a half-growl, displeased, just as Jason knew he would be.

Jason sighs. "C'mon, I don't think anyone else will try anything tonight, let's head home."

Read on Ao3

[starshideurfics]

A Mother’s Love - Part Seven

part one… part six

Steddie, omegaverse, wayne x benny, the plot appears, mdni🔞

Steve’s panties are soaked, clinging to his pussy, all from kissing Eddie.

From finally kissing Eddie.

Eddie’s hands are on his waist, holding him in place, and Steve can feel how hard he is through their jeans. All from kissing.

He pulls back to catch his breath, and Eddie tucks his face to Steve’s neck, nuzzling below his ear. Blunt teeth drag over Steve’s mating gland, and he moans, his pussy clenching as his dick twitches in his pants. Steve grinds down, feels so powerful when Eddie gasps against his neck, confident enough to murmur, “Let’s go upstairs.”

Eddie freezes underneath him, but they’re both panting, the sounds of their breathing filling the room. Slowly, Eddie lifts his face to gaze up at Steve, dark eyes shining, and Steve is forced to confront his shiner again. Eddie’s been protecting him for years, and now he’s been hurt, even if he claims it isn’t that bad. He can’t help it, his thumb moves to delicately trace over Eddie’s eyebrow, bending to softly kiss his forehead above the bruise.

“Steve?” Eddie breathes, his grip on Steve’s waist like a vice, grounding them both.

“My parents are out of town, and I don’t want to be alone,” Steve murmurs. “I want you to stay.” He can feel the conflict in Eddie’s emotions—the desperation and desire and devotion warring with honor and respect and fear. “Please, Eddie, come upstairs.”

His sweet alpha—and Steve knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Eddie is his—simply nods, staring at him with such profound adoration that Steve feels on fire with it. He grins as they separate, taking Eddie’s hand in his and dragging him up to his room.

The air is thick when they cross the threshold, filled with tension and possibility. Eddie has been in Steve’s room before, but now he’s an alpha being invited into an omega’s space. It feels more intimate than having Eddie’s tongue in his mouth, more intimate than rubbing his clothed pussy over Eddie’s hard-on.

And it is. Steve has every intention of losing his virginity, now, to Eddie. Of being filled and knotted and so, so wet.

Of making love.

Even though the house is empty, Steve closes the door behind them. He guides Eddie over to sit on the edge of his bed, just outside his nest, and reaches back to take off his shirt, tossing it in a corner. Eddie’s seen him plenty without a shirt before, what with how much swimming they do all summer, but now he has permission to stare. Steve’s nipples feel tight, sensitive, and he’s sure they’re peaked.

Eddie’s mouth hangs open, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Steve wants Eddie’s mouth on him, imagines that tongue swirling around his nipple, and shivers.

He takes the two steps to close the distance between them, and reaches for the hem of Eddie’s shirt. That’s enough to get Eddie to pull it off himself. Eddie’s lanky, his muscles wiry instead of bulky, but strong. And he’s pale, his own pink nipples looking like rose petals against cream. Steve brushes a thumb over one and purrs, inviting Eddie to touch him back.

Eddie presses a kiss to his sternum, and whispers, “So pretty, Stevie. Beautiful.” Then he does exactly what Steve wants, kisses over to his nipple and sucks.

Another trickle of slick fills Steve’s panties.

Steve reaches for the button of his jeans with one hand, the fingers of the other threaded through Eddie’s curls to hold him in place, to keep his lips and tongue on Steve’s tit. Eddie nips, teeth scraping over sensitive skin, and Steve moans, begging, “More, Eddie, please!”

A possessive purr rumbles through Eddie’s chest, his arm locking around Steve’s waist as he nips harder, hand coming up to pinch the other nipple. Then he leans back to admire his handiwork, Steve’s nipples red and hard, before guiding Steve’s mouth down to his. They fall back into kissing easy as breathing, Steve sinking down to straddle Eddie’s lap again, reminding him what’s waiting for him.

It takes a minute to get Eddie to let go of him, his alpha whining as Steve loosens his hold, but then Steve can step back and unzip his fly. He pulls down his jeans and panties, lets them fall to the floor and kicks them aside. His socks stay on.

Eddie’s attention zooms in on Steve’s dick, small and hard and covered in slick from his pussy, standing out from the dark thatch of his bush. He looks up at Steve, awe in his eyes, along with the hint of a question, and Steve answers with a tiny nod.

A single callused finger slides along his pussy lips and strokes up the underside of his dick. Eddie immediately slips the finger into his mouth and moans at the taste. “So sweet, Stevie.”

“Eddie,” Steve husks, breathing suddenly shallow. “Touch me.”

The finger returns, touch careful as Eddie slips it inside.

It’s so different from having his own fingers in his pussy; Eddie can reach places Steve can’t, can rub in ways Steve can’t, and he feels himself hurtling towards the edge. His whole body tingles. His pussy aches. Steve wants-

“Stop.”

Eddie freezes.

“I wanna come on your knot.”

“Steve,” Eddie groans, “I dunno if I can last-”

Steve presses his thumb quickly to Eddie’s eye socket.

“Ow!”

“Do you think you can last now?”

“Oh my god! Steve!” But Eddie’s chuckling. He pushes up to his feet, kissing Steve as he does. “Go lay down,” he orders against Steve’s lips. When Steve refuses to budge, Eddie nips at his lip and adds, “I’ll be right there, sweetheart. Let me take my pants off.”

Steve crawls into his nest and sits, watching Eddie strip out of his jeans. He struggles to get his cock out, too hard to maneuver easily, the head dark red and wet. Once Eddie’s bare, Steve can see that his knot has already begun to swell, making the base the slightest bit thicker than the rest of him. Saliva pools under Steve’s tongue.

He has enough sense still to crawl over to his bedside table and pull a condom from the box in the drawer, smiling sheepishly as Eddie climbs into his nest beside him. Gently, he rolls the condom down Eddie’s length, fingers trailing further to cup his balls, to explore him.

Then Eddie’s guiding him to lie back, covering his body with his own, kissing him with such tenderness that he almost doesn’t feel Eddie slip inside. But as he pushes deeper, the discomfort grows, Steve’s pussy stretching too fast. At the same time he feels the intensity of Eddie’s pleasure, the ecstasy of being sheathed in tight, wet heat.

Eddie moves his hips, his hand finding Steve’s, lacing their fingers together, still kissing like he’ll die without Steve’s lips on his. Steve can feel his orgasm building, intensified by feeling Eddie’s as well, and Steve comes hard, feels it in every part of his body as a cry rips from his throat. He feels the pressure of Eddie’s knot inside him, tying them together, and he wraps his legs around Eddie’s waist, tying his own knot. “I love you,” he whispers, exhausted and overwhelmed and so deliriously happy.

“Love you so much, Stevie,” Eddie whispers back. With those words in his ears, Steve drifts off to sleep, barriers still down to feel the warmth of Eddie’s love in his chest.

❤️❤️❤️

Steve wakes with a scream, heart pounding in abject terror. He cries out for his mother. Needs his mother.

Something terrible has happened, but he doesn’t have the words. He falls asleep again, crying against Eddie’s chest.

❤️❤️❤️

Steve wake before dawn to the feeling of fingers on his scalp as Eddie lazily plays with his hair. “Go back to sleep, Stevie.”

“Can’t.” His heart is pounding again just remembering the fear he felt.

“It was probably someone having a nightmare.”

“Eddie…”

“We don’t know how… everything we did last night will affect you. C’mon, sweetheart, it’s Hawkins. Nothing here to be that scared of, right?”

“I guess,” Steve agrees softly. He still hasn’t fixed his barriers; having Eddie’s emotions jumbled up with his is comforting. And then it hits him: “I’m going to have to tell my mom.”

“What?” Eddie asks, nonchalantly, still focused on swirling patterns along Steve’s skin.

“That we had sex. I’m gonna have to tell her we had sex and that it did weird things to my range.”

“Do I… have to be around for that conversation?”

“I’d prefer if you weren’t.”

“Thank god.”

Steve hums, tucks his nose to Eddie’s neck so he can breathe his spicy, wild mint scent. “But her and Dad won’t be home until Wednesday… I really don’t want to be out here alone.”

“You want me to spend the night again?”

“Yes.” Steve presses a kiss to Eddie’s pulse point. “I know I could spend the night at Mama’s, but…” It feels silly to say, that he just wants to be with Eddie. That now that he has him like this he never wants to be away from him. Silly, teenage notions about love that he can’t shake.

Eddie’s hand comes up to cup Steve’s cheek, guiding Steve to look at him in the dim morning light. He smiles and Steve feels his heart flip-flop in his chest. “We can make spaghetti, do our homework, make a night of it.” Softly, he kisses Steve’s forehead, and glances over at Steve’s clock. “Still a couple hours before we need to get up. Please, just try to sleep? For me?”

“I’ll try.”

And trying works. Steve drifts off in the safety of Eddie’s arms, waking when Eddie tries to get out from underneath him a bit over an hour later. They both decide they may as well get up, going to take separate showers and getting dressed for the day, Eddie in borrowed underpants and jeans.

Steve makes them sit down to eat breakfast, and he makes fun of Eddie for heaping spoonfuls of sugar onto his Cheerios. “Well, if you had something appropriately sweet here, I wouldn’t need to add anything!”

“I thought I was sweet?”

“You offering to be my breakfast, sweetheart?” Eddie kisses him then, distracting them both until the remains of their cereal is a step away from mush.

There’s no rush to get to school, but at the door Eddie asks, “We driving separate, or together? Since we’ll just be coming back here…”

Arriving together isn’t that out of the ordinary. Eddie drove Steve plenty before he got his license, and Steve has picked Eddie up when his van is in the shop. Still, Steve wants to stake his claim, show off his alpha. “Can you drive, I still feel a bit shaky after…”

“Sure, Stevie, but we should head out now. I need to stop for gas.”

When they walk into Hawkins High from the parking lot, people stare. Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are holding hands. They kiss at Steve’s locker. Steve’s got a hickey, and Munson’s got a black eye.

So does Billy Hargrove.

By the start of first period the whole school knows.

By the end of the day, everyone knows that Will Byers is missing.

❤️❤️❤️

Benny is doing prep work in the kitchen before opening, he’s made a test batch of fries to make sure the fryer is up to temp, and is snacking on those instead of eating a real lunch. Janice won’t be in for another hour, open always slow on Mondays. He carries out refills for the napkin dispensers, mind wandering.

Marsha and Richard are out of town, so he’s planning to stop out to check on Steve after school, ask about what happened with the studious alpha girl. They really seemed to be hitting it off, and Benny knows Steve has never brought-

He hears the slightest rustling in the back. Hawkins is small enough and quiet enough that he’s never worried about being robbed—not enough in the till to bother with either—but he moves as silently as he can to check on the source of the noise.

There, scavenging at his basket of test fries, is a child, head shaved and wearing a hospital gown. He must breathe too loudly, and the child looks up, eyes wide with fear, turning to run.

Benny’s instincts make him move faster, catching the pup—the girl—and murmuring, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You ain’t in trouble here.” He checks them over, sees no shoes on their feet, but no obvious injuries. “Where’d you come from?” he asks more to himself than the girl, which is for the best since he gets no answer beyond a nervous stare.

He changes tack. “How about we get you something more to eat? You sit down and I’ll get you set up, just need to know your name, huh?” Benny keeps his eye on them, as he goes to the freezer and pulls out the ice cream, not above bribing a pup in order to keep her safe. “My name’s Benny, what’s yours?”

The pup still stares, and Benny was worried before, but now he’s pretty certain he’s got an abused child on his hands. “How about your favorite flavor? My son loves a chocolate shake, but maybe you like vanilla?”

“Chocolate.”

“Alright, your tongue works. I’m glad to hear it. One chocolate shake coming right up.”

The girl smiles, and shivers.

“You cold?”

A nod.

Benny heads to his office to grab one of Wayne’s flannels, offering it slowly to her, smiling when she accepts it with a smile of her own. “Sit on down, I’ll be right over with that shake…”

“Eleven.”

The word reverberates through Benny’s brain. Marsha said the program was shuttered. That she was pretty sure Brenner wasn’t even in Indiana anymore. And yet here he has a pup with a number for a name in his diner.

They aren’t safe here. He’s not sure they’ll safe be anywhere. But he promised her a shake, his hands moving easily through the motions of making one, pouring it into a styrofoam to-go cup.

He needs to get her to Wayne, and then he needs to find his son.

❤️❤️❤️

Even with his barriers back in place, the school day is long for Steve. Exhausting.

Nancy smiles at him when he tells her he hopes they can still be friends; she’s heard, just like everyone else, about him and Eddie. She only looks a little sad, wistful maybe, as she says, “Sure, I still need my algebra study buddy.”

Billy glares a hole through Steve’s head, but Nancy sticks close to him until the bell rings, keeping anyone else from approaching. It’s a real kindness, one Steve wasn’t expecting. He hopes Billy doesn’t give Nancy a hard time over it.

During sixth period, Cartwright has the radio on while they do their lab work, an alert cutting into the broadcast asking for anyone with information regarding the whereabouts of 12-year-old Will Byers to contact the Hawkins PD.

The Byerses don’t live that far from Steve. If Will’s been missing since last night… But what good does knowing someone was scared do? He doesn’t know if it was Will or not. He doesn’t know anything for certain.

But he wants to help.

When the last bell finally rings, Steve rushes to meet Eddie, easily tucking himself against his alpha’s side as they make their way to the parking lot. Steve talks quietly, probably a bit too fast, trying to justify himself, “I don’t know why, but I can just- I feel it. In my gut. And it makes sense, if he was home that’d be pretty close, for a feeling that big, it might not even be out of my normal range. I just don’t know what to do, I should ask Mama-”

“Well, he’s right there,” Eddie interrupts, pointing across the lot to Benny, waiting outside his truck.

“He musta heard about Will, too. Got nervous. You know how he is.” Steve takes Eddie by the hand and drags him along as he half-runs to reach his mother.

Benny is silent, but he catches Steve to his chest, holding him so tight it hurts.

“Mama,” Steve whines, “You’re squishing me.”

“Hush,” Benny chides, but he relaxes his hold. “Baby, I need you to be extra careful right now. No talking to anyone you don’t know, no going anywhere you don’t need to, I don’t want you alone in that big house tonight-”

“Mama, I know Will Byers is missing. And I’m a little old for stranger danger.”

“This ain’t about Will Byers-”

“But I think I felt it, Mama! Will going missing.”

“What?”

Steve tries to explain again, and Benny quickly cuts him off. “We need to go.” Only then does he notice Steve still holding Eddie’s hand. “And when did this happen?”

“Last night.”

“Wayne owes me ten bucks.”

“Mama!”

“Not now. Eddie, we’re just going to your place, Wayne’s waiting, we’ll meet you there.”

Steve pouts. “Can’t I ride with Eddie?”

“Baby, I’m not letting you out of my sight until I know what’s going on.”

❤️❤️❤️

Eddie makes it back to the house first, surprised when he needs to pull his keys back out to unlock the door. Inside, the TV is on, and he can hear PBS playing from the living room. Normally, Wayne would be asleep, and with his hackles already raised by everything that’s happened so far, Eddie is on edge.

He walks in to find Wayne on the couch sitting next to a kid. A kid wrapped in a blanket, absolutely enthralled by the tranquility of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. “Um… Wayne?” Eddie asks, drawing his uncle’s attention.

“Hey,” Wayne says with a nod.

The front door opens again, hinges creaking. Steve and Benny come in behind Eddie, Steve’s eyes going wide as he takes in the scene before him. “Oh,” he whispers, staring at the kid, whose head snaps to him, their eyes locking.

“How’s she doing?” Benny asks, hands settling on Steve’s shoulders.

“Good. Nothing exciting to report since you left.”

Benny nods. “Steve, Eddie, meet Eleven.”

“Eleven,” Steve echoes, and the girl pushes to her feet, crawling out from her blanket.

She gives Eddie an appraising look, and moves past, tentatively reaching up toward’s Steve’s cheek. “Brother,” she whispers, her fingers still ghosting above his skin, not ready to make contact.

Steve leans into the touch, and his world explodes in a riot of pain and fear and confusion.

part eight

[emjiroki]

♡ Alpha Yuuta drabble ♡

Warnings: NSFW 18+ Omegaverse dynamics, mentions of rut and breeding, blood, biting, Yuuta being a feral king (and a bit needy ♡)

"Baby, Baby wake up" Yuuta murmured, his voice sleep slurred and heavy as he wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled his face against the nape of your neck.

"Love, it's not even been an hour yet" You groaned, glancing over at your phone charging next to the bed.

"I know I know, I'm sorry it's just... you're so beautiful and your scent I..." his words tappers off into a growling whine as he dragged his hands to your hips to hold you as he thrust his hips against the plush of your ass. His rut was really bad this time.

You relaxed for just a few more minutes, letting him leak and drool against your bare skin before trying to turn to him.

"Don't move" he grunted, holding you in place with one hand against your neck and the other grasping your thigh and holding it up. Breaching your entrance for the fourth time today had him almost crying with relief, the warm wetness sucking him in and squeezing like a vice. It's everything he needed and knew for sure that he would die without it.

You thought he would cum right then and there with how hard he throbbed against the deepest parts inside of you as he bottomed out, a choked groaned spilling across your neck as he moved his hand in favor of his mouth, nipping and sucking against the flesh in an attempt not to bite you again. Bite marks and fingerprints bruises littered your body and you would most definitely be sore after this week is done.

You gasped into the darkened room at the feeling of his canines piercing your skin, a deep rumbling growl gracing your ears as he fucked into your tired but pliant body.

"Y-Yuuta" you whimpered, your hand going back behind you to thread your fingers through his dark hair, your Alpha purring at the feeling.

"I know, can't help myself, taste so good" his reply was muffled as blood bubbled out around his sharp teeth. His pace was near frenzied as he humped against you, apologies and praises escaping with every fervent thrust of his hips as you moaned so sweetly for him.

"Not enough, need to breed you deeper". You didn't have to look into his dark eyes to see that he had dropped completely into his rut headspace, his needy fingers and jaw locked onto your neck was more than enough confirmation as he moved you onto your stomach, his knees caging you in as he pressed you down to the mattress, the prone position getting him as deep as he wanted with a satisfied groan. It's felt as if he was in your guts as you shut your eyes against the onslaught of mind-numbing pleasure buzzing up your spine, completely pinned to the bed and mounted.

"Omega, baby I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me" you whined, wanting more than anything to feel his lips on yours. He pulled his mouth away from your neck, smearing his lips down to press bloody kisses along your shoulders.

"Gonna breed this pretty pussy, she's drooling for me" He growled, the feeling of his knot swelling has you grasping at the sheets. His scent was so musky and feral with rut pheromones that it sent you over the edge, your slick cunt squeezing him so hard as you cried out his name that it milked his orgasm from the bottom of his balls, his voice an almost howling cry of relief as his knot locked and held his cock snug inside you as he painted your welcoming womb a sticky white. He was panting and shaking so hard his arms gave out, his heavy body laying on top of you as he incessantly rubbed his scent across your throat and any bare skin he could reach.

"L-Lets try and get some rest" Yuuta stammered still trying to catch his breath as he wrapped his arms around you to hold you close, "before I get worked up again".

[airandyeah]

Sins (Alpha Geto X Omega Gojo X Omega Reader) Part.7

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Warnings: Obvious A/B/O dynamics, fated mates, suggestive comments or actions, just generally Minors DNI-just in case. This will be similar to Pink Pony Club, where I just mark every chapter as 18+ NSFW ahead, sexual content, heats, double penetration, nesting, mentions of marking, knotting, dirty talk...

Your hands move on instinct, pulling at the blankets and pillows, arranging them in a way that feels right. The overwhelming heat pulsing through your body demands comfort, safety—a nest. Your omega instincts are screaming for you to surround yourself in something familiar, something that smells like them.

You turn toward them, your breaths uneven as you look at Suguru and Satoru, standing near the doorway, watching you carefully. “Take off your clothes,” you say, voice breathless but firm.

Satoru raises an eyebrow, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “Now, normally, I’d love an order like that, but—”

“You smell too clean,” you interrupt, fisting your hands in the blankets. “I need your scent. Both of you.”

Suguru steps forward first, undoing the buttons on his shirt, his eyes watching you carefully. “You’re nesting,” he murmurs, almost to himself, as if the realization is finally settling over him.

You nod, your fingers tightening in the soft fabric beneath you. “I need it to smell like you.”

Satoru huffs out a breath before pulling his own shirt over his head, his usual teasing smirk softer now. “You really are ours, huh?” He steps closer, letting you reach out for the clothing in his hands.

Suguru hands you his shirt next, and you waste no time burying your face in it, breathing in the deep, calming scent of him. It’s warm, grounding, and it settles something wild in your chest. You pull it into the nest, layering it among the blankets before reaching for Satoru’s, doing the same.

They watch as you work, quietly, letting your instincts guide you. You glance up at them once you’re satisfied, your throat tight. “Stay,” you whisper. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Suguru sits first, his presence solid and unshakable beside you. Satoru follows, stretching out on the other side, his warmth pressing against you. Their scents are all around you now, wrapping you in the comfort you so desperately needed.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Suguru murmurs, his hand brushing over yours.

Satoru hums in agreement, his voice softer than usual. “We’re here, sweetheart. We’re not going anywhere.”

And with them beside you, the unbearable heat finally starts to feel just a little more manageable. Your fingers twitch against Suguru’s chest, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. The warmth surrounding you—Suguru’s steady presence, Satoru’s lingering touches—only makes the fire inside you burn hotter. Their scents are everywhere, clinging to the nest you’ve built, seeping into your skin, but it isn’t enough. You need more.

Your hands move on instinct, reaching for them, pulling them closer. Suguru hums in surprise, you begin dragging him down, but he doesn’t resist. His scent washes over you, rich and steady, and you whine softly as you bury your face against his throat, inhaling deeply.

“Sweetheart,” Satoru chuckles, but there’s a tightness to his voice, a tension that wasn’t there before. “You’re getting real needy on us.”

You don’t care. It isn’t enough, none of it is enough, and your instincts scream for more, to be closer, to claim and be claimed. Your lips brush over the sensitive spot on Suguru’s scent gland, and his sharp inhale sends a shiver down your spine. The heat is unbearable, clouding every rational thought as your teeth scrape lightly over his skin.

“Fuck,” Suguru mutters, his hands gripping your waist, holding you steady even as you tremble in his grasp. “She’s running on instinct.”

A whimper escapes your lips as you turn toward Satoru next, your fingers threading into the soft white strands of his hair, pulling him close. His scent is sweeter, addicting, and you nip at his scent gland too, desperate for something—anything—to ease the ache inside you. He shudders against you, his grip tightening, and for once, he doesn’t have a smart remark.

“God, she’s perfect,” Satoru breathes, his voice rougher than usual. “Suguru, what do we—?”

“We take care of her,” Suguru answers without hesitation, his tone low and commanding. “She’s ours.”

The words settle deep in your chest, grounding and exhilarating all at once. The fire inside you rages hotter, and you press yourself closer to them, needy, desperate. You don’t care what happens next—you just know you need them. Need this.

And from the way their hands start to wander, the way they hold you closer, whispering soft reassurances, they aren’t going to deny you. Satoru, despite the heavy air between you all, still can’t help himself. His teasing comes effortlessly, a smirk pulling at his lips as he brushes his fingers along your flushed skin.

“Look at you,” he muses, voice saccharine with amusement. “All needy and desperate. You want us that bad, sweetheart?” He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “Didn’t think you’d break this fast—”

He doesn’t get to finish.

Suguru’s hand comes up, grips the back of Satoru’s neck, and yanks him in roughly. The moment their lips meet, Satoru’s cocky little noises die in his throat, swallowed whole by Suguru’s dominance. The kiss is deep, consuming, leaving Satoru dazed when Suguru finally pulls back, a string of saliva still connecting them.

“You talk too much,” Suguru murmurs against his lips, thumb swiping across Satoru’s chin. “I don’t recall you being so smug during your heats.”

Satoru’s cheeks flush pink.

Your mind, hazy with need, latches onto that little revelation immediately. You shift in Suguru’s lap, turning bleary, questioning eyes onto Satoru. He huffs, clearly trying to recover his usual confidence, but you can see the slight pout forming at the corners of his lips.

“Oh?” Your voice is breathy, curiosity momentarily pushing through your omega instincts. “Toru, you get desperate too?”

Satoru groans, hiding his face in Suguru’s shoulder as the latter chuckles darkly.

“Oh, he does,” Suguru confirms, his free hand stroking down your back, grounding you. “Worse than you, even.”

“Sugu!” Satoru whines, voice a little higher now, his pride cracking.

“You should’ve seen him last heat,” Suguru continues, ignoring his mate’s protests. “Clinging to me, begging me to touch him, whining like a little thing in my lap—”

“Sugu!”

Satoru’s ears are practically burning now, his hands clutching at Suguru. He finally turns his face toward you, lower lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout.

“Are you really gonna let him gang up on me like this, sweetheart?” he complains, though there’s no real fight behind it.

You blink at him, your own breath still shaky, your omega instincts clawing at you to move—to have them closer, to be surrounded in nothing but them.

“Depends,” you murmur, fingers trailing up his chest. You tug lightly. “Are you gonna keep teasing me?”

Satoru’s lips part slightly, a faint hitch in his breath. His pupils are blown wide, his own instincts sparking at the way you pull him closer.

Suguru chuckles lowly behind you, nuzzling into the side of your neck.

“Looks like she has her own ways of shutting you up, Toru.” Satoru shifts behind you, his body a warm presence pressing flush against your back. His scent surrounds you, a sweet, intoxicating vanilla laced with something richer—something unmistakably him. Suguru stays in front of you, his large hands gripping your hips, steadying you as you tremble between them.

Your breathing is uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly as your instincts take full control. Your pupils are blown wide, gaze unfocused and desperate as your omega whines in frustration, need rolling off you in waves.

“You’re shaking, sweetheart,” Satoru murmurs against the shell of your ear, his hands trailing slow, teasing paths down your arms. “You gonna tell us what you need?”

A frustrated whimper leaves you, and you don’t even hesitate before nuzzling against the crook of Suguru’s neck, your lips parting as you press a chaste kiss against the sensitive scent gland there. His breath hitches, his fingers tightening on your hips in response.

“That desperate already?” Suguru’s voice is husky, but there’s a soft, teasing lilt beneath it.

Your response is instinctual, whining high in your throat as you turn, your lips brushing against his skin again—needier this time, bolder. You want more. You want their scent covering you, mixing together until it’s the only thing you can smell.

A pleased rumble vibrates in Suguru’s chest as he tilts his head, giving you more access.

“She wants to be covered in us,” Satoru murmurs from behind, his tone filled with quiet amusement. His fingers graze along your sides, dipping beneath the fabric of your shirt. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

Your hands clutch at Suguru’s shirt, desperate for more. You turn your head slightly, your lips finding the curve of Satoru’s wrist where his scent is strongest. You nip lightly, and the sharp intake of breath behind you makes your stomach twist in satisfaction.

“Oh,” Suguru breathes, his grip tightening as he watches your desperate little attempts to drown yourself in them. “I think she’s finally letting go.”

Satoru groans, pressing his lips against your shoulder, his voice low and teasing.

“Took her long enough.” ~~~ The room is warm, the air thick with the scent of all three of you tangled together. Clothes lay abandoned in heaps around the nest you’ve instinctively built, a messy collection of blankets and pillows that now cradle your bodies.

You’re lost in Suguru’s kiss, his lips firm and deep against yours, stealing the breath from your lungs with every slow drag of his mouth. His fingers grip your waist, pressing you against him as if he can't get close enough.

Behind you, Satoru’s lips trail a lazy path down your spine, leaving behind featherlight kisses that send shivers up your back. His hands smooth over your sides, fingertips pressing into your skin with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch.

“Such a pretty omega,” he murmurs against your shoulder, voice dripping with affection and amusement. His teeth graze lightly over your throat, making you keen softly. “Letting us finally take care of you like this.”

Suguru hums in agreement, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His pupils are dark, blown wide with hunger, and the sight sends a deep pulse of warmth through your core.

“You’ve been holding back for too long, haven’t you?” Suguru whispers, his thumb brushing against your kiss-swollen lips. “But not anymore.”

Satoru nips playfully at your neck, grinning as you gasp. “Nope,” he agrees, his tone smug and utterly pleased. “She’s all ours now.” Suguru swallows your whimper with another deep kiss, his hand threading into your hair as he tilts your head to give him more access. His lips move against yours with a slow, intoxicating rhythm, his body pressing against yours like he wants to mold you into him.

Behind you, Satoru chuckles lowly against your skin, his breath hot as he kisses down the curve of your spine, dragging his teeth lightly over the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You shiver, body arching instinctively between them, overwhelmed by the heat radiating from both alphas.

“She’s trembling,” Satoru teases, his voice laced with amusement but dripping with something darker—something possessive. His hands skim down your sides, gripping your hips and kneading the flesh appreciatively. “You like this, don’t you? Being between us like this?”

You can’t answer—not when Suguru is kissing you breathless, not when Satoru is pressing open-mouthed kisses down your back, his tongue tracing lazy patterns against your skin. Your body is burning, instincts roaring as their scents wrap around you, filling your senses until there’s nothing left but them.

Suguru pulls away just enough to let you catch a breath, his forehead resting against yours as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip. “Toru’s right,” he murmurs, his voice husky, his dark eyes locked onto yours. “You’re so perfect like this.”

Satoru shifts behind you, his hands sliding up your stomach, holding you against him as he presses a slow kiss to your shoulder. “Ours,” he whispers, his tone reverent, as if he’s letting the word settle into his bones.

Suguru leans in again, his lips brushing over yours in a teasing ghost of a kiss. “Say it,” he coaxes, his fingers tightening their hold on your waist.

Your breath catches, your omega keening for them, for more, for everything. You swallow hard, drowning in their warmth, their touch, their devotion.

“…Yours.” Your mind is swimming, the warmth of their bodies against yours making it impossible to think, impossible to do anything but feel. The heat pooling in your stomach is unbearable, a deep, aching need that only they can soothe. Your instincts have taken over, pushing past any hesitation you once had, leaving you desperate and utterly at their mercy.

“Suguru,” you whimper, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as you press yourself against him, your breath coming in uneven gasps. “Please—need it, need you.”

Suguru groans low in his throat, his grip on your waist tightening as he watches you with dark, hooded eyes. His scent thickens, heavy with his own restraint as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he murmurs, his voice rough, strained.

But you do. You do know, and you’re past the point of caring about anything else. Your body is burning, your omega instincts screaming for the only thing that will satisfy the desperate ache consuming you.

“Please,” you beg, your voice bordering on a whimper, “Suguru—your knot—I need it, I need it.” You’re babbling now, the words tumbling from your lips in a desperate, incoherent plea as you press feverish kisses along his jaw, your nails digging into his back.

Satoru groans from behind you, his grip on your hips tightening as he presses against you, his lips brushing against your ear. “Look at her, Sugu,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with something dark and possessive. “She’s completely gone—fucking feral for you.”

Suguru pulls back just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your flushed cheeks as he looks at you, his gaze soft but burning with restrained hunger. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he mutters, before capturing your lips in another searing kiss.

His control is slipping—you can feel it in the way his hands roam your body with more urgency, in the way his breathing shudders against your skin. He’s holding back, barely, but you don’t want him to.

You need all of him.

And from the way Suguru groans as you whimper his name again, he knows it too. It doesn't take long for his fingers to find your dripping heat as he begins to stretch you open, it's so hot in the room, your body feels like it's burning and you mates are ice cold water. You barely notice Satoru's hands tracing down your lower body until you feel long fingers prodding you lubricated ass- damn horny omega body. Your moans are swallowed by Suguru's mouth as they both tease and stretch, leaving you dizzy. “Please, Suguru,” you whimper, your voice raw with need. “Please—need your knot, need you.”

Satoru groans from behind, his grip on your hips tightening. “She’s a mess,” he teases, though his voice is husky, his own restraint hanging by a thread. “You gonna give her what she wants, Sugu?”

Suguru growls, his grip tightening on you. “Don’t test me, Satoru.”

And then he’s moving, pushing you down into the nest you’d built, lips trailing down your throat, hands spreading your thighs as he settles between them. His scent engulfs you, wrapping around you like a promise, and your body arches instinctively, chasing after the heat of him.

“You want my knot?” Suguru murmurs against your skin, his voice deep and rough. “Then take it.”

And as he finally gives in, claiming you in the way fate had always intended, you know—you’ll never want anything else again. You practically come undone as he presses into you- he's big and your mind is blank, nails scraping at his back as he begins thrusting into you carefully. Satoru hums, almost lazily, though the heat in his voice betrays his own desperation. “Well, if Suguru’s taking his time with you,” he murmurs, his hands smoothing over your back, down your hips, “guess I’ll have to make sure you’re completely satisfied.”

You barely register his words before his body presses flush against your back, his warmth sinking into your skin. The teasing drag of his lips against your shoulder sends another tremor through you, your mind hazy, instincts roaring for more.

Suguru groans, his grip tightening around your thighs. “Toru,” he warns, but Satoru only chuckles, breath hot against the nape of your neck.

“What?” he muses, his hands trailing lower, his scent overwhelming. “She’s ours, isn’t she?”

You can’t hold back the desperate sound that leaves you as Satoru settles behind you, his lips skimming over your scent gland, his touch possessive. The two of them surround you completely—Suguru’s steady heat at your front, Satoru’s teasing but firm grip at your back.

"Relax, sweetheart," Satoru coos, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear as his fingers slide against your skin. “We’ll take good care of you.”

And between them, you shatter—over and over again. Satoru's cock is nestled deeply behind you, Suguru's pressing hard into your sweet spot. You're completely and utterly full of them, drool dripping down from your maw, which had been hanging open since Satoru began pushing into you. Their thrusts are uneven, opposing each other, rubbing you in all the right ways to make you fall apart, clenching around both of them as you cum. You felt how Satoru's thrusts where uneven- curses whispered under his breath and grunted, as he begins whimpering-- he buries himself to the hilt, cumming with a cry of your name as he rutted up into you. He pulls out after a few moments and you moan as Suguru ups his pace, sweat making his hair stick to his head as he pants.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you clutch at Suguru, nails digging into his back. The heat consuming you is unbearable, instincts screaming for more—for everything. You tilt your head, exposing your scent gland, desperation thick in your voice.

“Suguru,” you whimper, body arching into his, “mark me—please, please, I need it.”

His entire body tenses. The growl that rumbles in his chest is almost pained, his hands tightening their grip on your waist. Behind you, Satoru stills, his breath warm against your shoulder, the teasing edge in his voice now completely gone.

Suguru’s eyes darken with something unreadable. He leans in close, pressing a deep kiss to your throat, right where his mark should be. His teeth barely graze your skin, sending a shiver through you, but he doesn’t bite down.

“No.” His voice is firm, steady, but you hear the strain underneath it.

You whine, trying to move against him, to tempt him, but his hands hold you still. “You don’t mean that,” you breathe, eyes hazy, lips brushing against his. “You want to—”

“I do want to.” His voice is hoarse, his restraint fraying, but he pulls back just enough to cup your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “But not like this.”

Tears of frustration prick your eyes as you shake your head. “But I need—”

“You’re not in your right mind,” Suguru interrupts gently, thumb stroking over your cheek. “You’re in heat, sweetheart. And I won’t take your choice away from you.”

Behind you, Satoru presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you as if to ground you. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, voice unusually soothing. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Suguru kisses your forehead, lingering. “When you really want it—when you’re thinking clearly—I’ll give you everything.”

You whimper, eyes squeezing shut, frustration warring with something warm and aching in your chest. But in the safety of their arms, their touch easing the unbearable need, you can only surrender to them completely. You relent as you bury your face into Suguru's neck, begging him atleast for his knot. With a low growl he gives in, cumming deep inside of your gummy walls as his knot stretches you impossibly wide, keeping it all bottled inside of you. ~~~ The week of your heat had left you drained—exhausted physically and emotionally. Your body had been left in a haze, overwhelmed by instincts and sensations that had you clinging to them both for stability. But now, as the days passed and the intensity faded, you were left to process everything that had happened.

You woke up one morning, the sunlight filtering through the blinds, feeling a strange sense of calm for the first time in what seemed like forever. The weight of the moment was still there, heavy in the air, but you could finally breathe again without the constant need gnawing at you.

Satoru and Suguru were nearby, though neither of them had been particularly vocal about what had happened. There was a quiet tension between you all—a mixture of guilt, desire, and something deeper that none of you had fully explored yet.

You pulled yourself out of bed, stretching as your body still felt sore in the most intimate of places. Your omega instincts were calmer now, but the bond that had formed with them both lingered in the air, a reminder that things had changed. You had let them in, allowed yourself to open up to them in ways you hadn’t even understood before.

Your phone buzzed on the bedside table, and you reached for it, seeing a message from Suguru.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

It was simple, but you could feel the care behind the words.

You responded, “Tired, but better. I think I need to talk to you both.”

The message was sent, and you set the phone down, feeling a knot form in your stomach. You hadn’t fully processed everything. The heat had been overwhelming, but now that you had time to think, everything was clearer. You had to confront what you were feeling for them both—how much had changed, how much your heart had shifted in the quiet moments after your heat.

When Suguru and Satoru finally entered the room later, you could feel the weight of their gazes on you. They didn’t press, letting you have the time you needed. But now that the storm had passed, you knew there were conversations you needed to have.

“You’re okay?” Satoru asked, voice still gentle, his usual playful edge subdued.

You nodded, sitting up a little straighter. “I’m okay. I just… need to understand what happens next. I didn’t expect to feel this way.”

Suguru took a step closer, his presence calm but solid, reassuring. “We understand. This is a lot, but we’re here. We’re not going anywhere.”

You sighed, your shoulders sagging as you tried to sort through your emotions. The bond was undeniable now. You knew it. They knew it. And yet, despite everything that had happened, you still had questions.

“How do we move forward from here?” you asked, your voice soft but determined. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken thoughts as you sat there, the air between you and them charged with the weight of the question you had been avoiding. They both moved closer, their eyes locked on you, and you couldn’t help but feel their intensity—the way they were trying to navigate this delicate moment.

Satoru was the first to speak, his voice soft but firm, as if he had already made up his mind, but wanted to ensure you felt the same. “We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?” His words were careful, each one weighted with meaning. “You feel it too, don’t you? That bond between us... it’s not just your heat. It’s deeper than that.”

Suguru, always the more measured one, nodded in agreement, his gaze unwavering. “It’s more than just a connection—it’s fate. And while we’ve already claimed you in ways that can’t be undone, there’s something more we want to give you.”

Your heart beat harder in your chest, and you felt that familiar warmth spread across your skin. Their words carried more weight than you had expected, and now you understood why they had been so patient, why they hadn’t rushed you.

Suguru’s voice softened as he continued. “We want to mark you, fully. For you to have your own mark. So you’ll be ours—completely.” He paused, looking at you with deep sincerity. “But only if you’re sure. We won’t rush you, we’ll never force you into anything you’re not ready for. But when the time comes, we’ll be ready.”

Satoru leaned in closer, his voice just above a whisper, the heat of his words like a caress against your skin. “I want you to know that you’re our omega, not just because of the bond, but because we want you in every way. But it’s your decision. We’ll respect whatever you choose.”

There was a soft silence between you, the weight of their words sinking in. You could feel your pulse racing, the desire to move forward with them strong, but the uncertainty in your heart was still there. They were offering you more than just the physical connection—they were offering you a life with them, a future.

You took a deep breath, your mind swirling with emotions. You hadn’t realized just how deep your feelings for them had gone until now. You weren’t sure if you were ready for this step yet, but you understood the gravity of the decision. The marking, the bond—it was permanent. It wasn’t something you could take back.

After a long moment of silence, you met their gazes, eyes flicking between Suguru’s steady, reassuring look and Satoru’s more intense, passionate one.

“I want this,” you said quietly, but with a firmness that surprised you. “I do. But I need time to think about the mark... I need to be sure, completely sure. This isn’t something I can rush.”

Suguru’s face softened, his eyes filled with understanding. “Take all the time you need,” he reassured, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. “There’s no pressure, no rush. We just want you to feel confident.”

Satoru nodded as well, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of his lips, though his gaze softened with affection. “I think I can wait... for now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing just a little, but you also knew that this was only the beginning. The connection between you all wasn’t going anywhere—it was there, in the air, in every glance and every touch. But when the time came, you would be ready. For them. For the bond. ~~~ As you sat down on the couch the next morning, the weight of your thoughts still lingering, Moose trotted over, his usual bright-eyed enthusiasm filling the room. He jumped onto the couch, curling up beside you as he often did, his soft purring a familiar comfort.

You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his fur, your mind drifting back to everything that had transpired in the past days—the heat, the bond, the way your life had shifted so dramatically. Your omega instincts were more present now than ever, still running wild after everything that had happened. And yet, in the quiet of the room, surrounded by the comforting presence of your cat, you couldn’t help but feel a small pang of guilt.

Moose had been there for it all. He had witnessed every intense moment, every change, and every push and pull between you and Satoru and Suguru. In all your chaos, he had remained a steady presence, unfazed by it all.

But now, with your senses calmer, the guilt began to creep in. What had he seen? Your instincts had taken over during your heat, your every thought consumed by them. You hadn’t even considered how it might affect Moose. Had it been too much for him? Too intense?

You sighed, leaning back against the couch, gazing down at the little ball of fluff that had already made himself comfortable beside you. “I’m sorry, Moose,” you murmured softly, brushing his head with your fingers. “You shouldn’t have had to witness all of that. You didn’t ask for it.”

Moose blinked up at you lazily, as if unfazed by your apology. He nuzzled your hand, his purring increasing in volume. It was almost as though he understood—or didn’t mind. But still, you couldn’t help but feel guilty.

The thought that your life, your bond with Satoru and Suguru, had become so complex and intense so quickly had left you struggling to find your footing. And yet, here was Moose, with his simple, uncomplicated love for you, his loyalty unwavering.

With a gentle smile, you leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “You’re such a good boy. You deserve a lot more than what I’ve put you through.”

Moose responded with a contented chirp, his tail swishing lazily in the air. His world was simple—food, affection, and your company. He didn’t care about the complex dynamics between you and the two men in your life. And maybe, in some strange way, that’s what you needed right now—something uncomplicated.

You glanced over at your phone, but instead of checking messages from Suguru and Satoru, you let the silence settle. There was time for everything to unfold, but in this moment, with Moose curled up at your side, it felt like the calmest your world had been in a while. ~~~ As you continued to sit in the living room, Moose still curled up beside you, the familiar buzz of your phone in your pocket pulled your attention. You glanced at it—no new messages from Satoru or Suguru. They’d given you space, which was nice, but curiosity gnawed at you.

The more time passed, the more you found yourself wondering about certain things—things that were still so new to you. You hadn’t yet stepped foot into their bedroom, and the idea of it lingered in the back of your mind, an itch that needed scratching. There were still so many unanswered questions, especially now that your bond with them felt deeper, more serious.

You felt a rush of impulsiveness, standing up and setting Moose on the couch before heading toward the hallway. Their bedroom was the one place you hadn’t ventured. Not out of fear, but out of respect—or maybe because you knew deep down you weren’t ready for what you might find. But now, curiosity overtook you.

The door was slightly ajar when you approached it, the soft glow of the hallway light spilling through. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was a sign you should turn back. But you ignored that voice in your head, pushing the door open slowly and stepping inside.

The room was surprisingly calm—no chaos, no clutter, just a clean, well-kept space. The bed was large, the sheets an immaculate shade of deep blue that matched the plush pillows. You ran your fingers along the wood of the dresser, your mind swirling with questions about them—about what they were like when the walls came down, when they weren’t the mafia bosses or the possessive mates.

The room felt... intimate. It wasn’t just a place for them to sleep—it felt like a space they truly shared, where they could be vulnerable. A part of you couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place, but another part of you felt oddly drawn to it, wanting to understand them more fully.

As you moved to the closet, the door slightly creaked open, revealing their clothes. Satoru’s collection of suits and casual wear hung neatly next to Suguru’s. There was something about it—the meticulousness, the way their lives seemed to be carefully curated down to the smallest details—that made you pause. You reached for a shirt that seemed to be Satoru’s, a soft, expensive fabric beneath your fingers. A part of you wanted to know more about them, wanted to understand why they’d chosen this life, why they’d chosen you.

Suddenly, you heard the faint sound of footsteps outside, your heart jumping in your chest. The door creaked slightly under your touch, and you quickly straightened up, glancing at the bed, then back to the door. You quickly turned to leave-

You barely had time to process it when you heard a voice call out from the hallway.

“Found something interesting?” Satoru’s teasing tone made you freeze.

Suguru’s footsteps followed shortly after, and you felt your stomach tighten. You hadn’t expected them to be home so soon.

You turned around, they both stood in the doorway, a knowing look on their faces.

“Didn’t think you’d be the snooping type,” Suguru said, his voice low and amused.

Satoru leaned against the doorframe, his eyes glinting. “Curious about what’s really behind closed doors?”

You felt a flush creep up your neck, your heart pounding as you stood there, caught in the act.

“Do you always snoop through people’s things?” Suguru’s voice was playful, but there was an edge of something deeper in it.

The moment stretched for what felt like eternity. Would they be angry? Were they disappointed in you for not waiting for them to share their space on their terms? Or were they... amused?

Taglist is always open for anyone! Just comment, send an ask, or a DM and I'll add you! Taglist: @purpleicing , mini-kunoichi

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Emerald Hallow Chapter 2

Summary: Steve Rogers wants to move on.  He wants to forget Peggy, and dive into the 21st century.  But this man of the past doesn’t know how to navigate being an Alpha in a modern world of skittish Omegas.  He prides himself on his self control, never wanting to harm or scare them, until something just smells too damn good…and he’s not the only one who notices.  

**plus size reader 

Warnings: abo!dynamics, smutty smut smut, name calling, eventual threesome, voyeurism, rough sex

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Steve called her the next day.  Twelve hours was surely enough time.  He also felt like he was going to combust if he didn’t hear her voice again.  He was worried about how badly he wanted her, knowing that this kind of connection was something that wasn’t common.  His self control was hanging on by a thread, and with their date coming up at the end of the week he was trying his best to not think about it too much, or fixate on the way her emerald hair shone on stage, or the black lipstick that slightly stained his beard, the feel of her on his lap…

“Jesus, punk, I need to meet this girl.  If she’s got you all wound up like this,” Bucky laughed watching Steve pace back and forth from his closet, dropping clothes onto his bed, trying to figure out what to wear.  Steve growled at the mention of Bucky, a natural born Alpha, even coming close to Y/N.  Bucky raised his eyebrows at Steve’s challenge.  “Chill, man.  Not trying to come for her, just saying she sounds like quite the Omega if she’s got you of all people acting up.”

Steve’s glare relaxed on his face as he tried to breath through the anxiety in his body.  “I’m sorry, Buck.  I know, I’m trying to just…” he sat down on the small free space on his bed.  “I’ve never felt this before.  I don’t know how to handle it.  I’ve never felt so…out of control before.”  Bucky nodded, his eyes downcast.  “Have you?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“Besides being the Winter Soldier, no, my Alpha has never taken over,” Bucky said, shaking his head as his eyebrows furrowed.  “Maybe gotten the better of me here and there, but never anything like you’re describing.”

Steve sighed heavily as the jittery feeling ebbed and flowed through what felt like his very cells.  His body knew it was going to be around Y/N again in a few hours, and his Alpha hormones were thrumming, making his blood race and heartbeat rate spike periodically.  “I’m afraid that the second I see her, let alone smell her, that I’m going to do something I’ll regret.”

Bucky reached out over the pile of clothes and gripped Steve’s shoulder.  “You won’t.  If I’ve ever seen someone who is the ultimate gentleman, it’s you.  You won’t hurt her.  You won’t take advantage of her.  I know you won’t,” he reassured him, squeezing his shoulder before dropping his hand.  He pulled out a shirt and pants from the pile and held it out to him.  “Wear this.”

Steve grabbed the clothes from him and studied them, finally nodding as he stood to go change.  “Thanks…jerk.”

Bucky scoffed.  “Yeah, whatever.  Just think of Hydra any time you get too excited.”

A few hours later Steve stood waiting outside a themed restaurant that he thought she would like.  After seeing glimpses of the tattoos that were on her arms, and judging based on her hair and style that night at the jazz club, she was a Halloween enthusiast, and this place was a witchy, spooky themed restaurant with fancy cocktails and food.  Halloween was only a few days away, and he wanted to show her that he was paying attention and impress her.

He smelled her before he saw her, her scent whipping his face with the Autumn wind.  It nearly knocked him off balance, his hormones humming and buzzing as he turned towards her.  Y/N was wearing a large, rust orange overcoat with a knee length, pear-colored pinafore dress peeking out from underneath.  Her emerald hair complimented the colors well, now worn in a much more modern wavy curl style.  Her lips were natural this time, and he felt his own lips itch at wanting to grab her face and kiss her.  As she walked he could see her legs were covered with black sheer tights and tattoos that were haphazardly scattered across her thick calves.  She wore chunky Doc Martens and thick socks against the cold.  She gave him a brilliant smile as she approached.  Steve was physically holding himself back, biting his lower lip and his fingers on one hand pinching the other hand to keep his hands to himself.  

“Hey handsome,” Y/N greeted him, her signature smirk making his knees feel weak.

“Hi,” Steve said gruffly, looking her over hungrily.  “You look beautiful.”

“Aw, thanks,” she smiled widely.  “You’re insanely hot, as usual.”

Steve laughed loudly, the humor helping to lessen his anxiety.  “Insanely hot?  Wow, high praise.  I need to work on my compliments.”

“You say a lot with those pretty eyes of yours,” Y/N said cheekily.  Steve’s breath stuttered as she gazed up at him.  “You smell…delectable,” she sighed, giving him a dreamy look.  She reached out and swiped his coat, her fingers sliding over the knitted sweater he was wearing.  “And you look incredible in green, has anyone ever told you that?  It brings out the little bit of green in your eyes.”  Steve blushed deeply at her consistent compliments.  “Or…did you wear green because of me?” she stepped toward him, the heat of her body making her scent roll off her in waves.  “You wanted to match me, didn’t you?”  Steve couldn’t even try to save his pride as he nodded, his eyes fluttering as he swallowed harshly.  “You like my green hair?” she teased him, her long nails scratching through his sweater, making goosebumps erupt across his chest.  

“I like everything about you,” Steve whispered, his hand reaching for her hand on his chest and bringing it up to his face, kissing her open palm reverently.  This made the smirk on her face fall, her eyes widening slightly as she watched him.  “I have to be honest, I’m a very controlled man, but ever since that night I've been struggling to keep my composure with you.  So as much as I love this flirty back and forth, tread carefully, Omega,” he used her classification as a warning, his eyes flashing dangerously.  

Y/N blinked, his words seeming to strike her quiet momentarily.  Then her smirk slowly returned, her eyes looking playful.  “Yes, Alpha,” she said slowly.  Steve’s eyes rolled and his grip on her hand tightened.  She giggled and then turned to the restaurant.  “I’m starving,” she announced and walked away from him, pulling her hand out of his grasp.  Steve blew out a rough puff of air and followed her inside.

They got to know each other better during dinner, Y/N enjoying the cocktails as she explained a lot of the decor inside the restaurant to Steve, who wasn’t well versed in horror movies or Halloween in general.  They were sitting in a booth, and as the night drew on they moved from opposite ends to sitting next to each other.  Steve’s arm was behind her shoulders, his body angled toward her as she told him another story about her time singing at the jazz club.

“Usually it’s nothing but fun, but every once in a while there’s some drunk, self-obsessed Alpha that just can’t seem to understand the word ‘no,’” she said offhandedly, taking another sip of her third cocktail.

Steve squirmed in his seat, unhappy with this piece of information.  “Really?”

Y/N nodded, setting the cocktail down and adjusting her dress that had risen up her thighs.  “Such an ass.  Like let me sing the damn song, dude.”

“Is he there often?” Steve asked, looking down at her thighs, his free hand tightening into a fist.  Y/N nodded as she took a bite of the dessert he ordered.  “Why don’t they ban him?”

She scoffed, her eyes rolling dramatically.  “He’s the manager’s brother.  Doesn’t matter how many complaints there have been, he doesn’t take me seriously.  I’m just the ‘talent,’” she said, her fingers tightening around the fork in her hand. 

Steve bristled, his anger bubbling deep in his belly.  His jaw ticked as he tried to calm himself.  “When do you sing next?”

Y/N gave him a suspicious look.  “Tomorrow night, why?”

“I’d just like to come see you sing again,” Steve said unconvincingly, his arm behind her wrapping around her more firmly.  Her eyes narrowed at him but she merely smiled as she stabbed another piece of the dessert with her fork and then held it up to his lips.  Steve smiled at her offering and opened his mouth, letting her feed him.  Something about that action made the Alpha in him hum with satisfaction as he ate.

“Oh, you got a little…” Y/N pointed towards his mouth.  Steve tried licking his lips, but she shook her head.  “It’s just…here,” she lifted her fingers to his lips, her thumb wiping a piece of chocolate off the side of his mouth.  She pulled her hand away but Steve moved forward quickly and bit her thumb softly, sucking the chocolate off.  Her eyes widened and she sucked in a short gasp.  He watched her as he licked her thumb then released it, their faces much closer together now than before.  He took his chance and leaned forward, his nose nuzzling hers.

Y/N smiled, her eyes fluttering as she breathed him in.  She angled her head as her body shifted to face him, then dragged her lips from his cheek down to his neck.  Steve froze, afraid that if he moved he’d take her on the table right there and then.  She nuzzled his neck gently, then he felt her tongue lick his scent gland.  His hands turned to fists as she sucked softly on his skin, his scent strengthening as she scented him.  People at the tables around them shifted uncomfortably as his pheromones reverberated across the restaurant.

“Y/N,” Steve whimpered.  “Please…”

She pulled away, licking her lips and her hand squeezing his knee.  “Your place or mine, handsome?”

A deep growl rumbled in his chest and he threw a few bills on the table before taking her hand and ripping her out of the booth.  Y/N quickly grabbed her coat and laughed as he pulled her out of the restaurant.  He led her to his car and helped her in before slamming the door and winding over to his side, sliding in and peeling out of the parking spot and towards his apartment.  The whole way he kept a hand on her thigh, squeezing firmly, trying to ground himself.  His hormones were going haywire, making her own scent get stronger.  As her desire grew her scent became spicier, making his eyes and mouth water, his grip on the steering wheel warping the leather.  When they finally reached his apartment he helped her out and pulled her inside.  Once the door was closed behind her he caged her against the it with his arms.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Steve breathed heavily, his eyes hungrily looking her over, watching her chest rise and fall.  “If we do this, I won’t be able to stop myself.  I’m surprised I’ve made it this far.  If you let me have you, I won’t let you go, Omega,” he grunted.  

Y/N sighed, her eyebrows turning upwards as she licked her lips again.  “I want this, Steve.  I want you.  Let me have you,” she reached up and grabbed his face, pulling him into a heated kiss.

The second their lips met Steve lost all control.  He pulled her against him roughly, his kiss too hard, his tongue shoving its way passed her lips and into her mouth to taste her hastily.  His hands blindly pulled at her clothes, unhooking her dress, taking her shirt off while leading her to his bedroom.  Her hands did the same to him, touching him all over his chest and stomach as she pushed his sweater and undershirt up and over his head.  When he finally got her completely bare before him he picked her up and threw her on his bed.  She yelped and then laughed when she hit the bed.

“I don’t think anyone has ever lifted me before,” Y/N smiled, watching him as he took his pants and underwear off, her eyes bugging as she stared at his large cock.

“I’m not like anyone else,” Steve smirked as he crawled up onto the bed.  His hands felt every inch of skin, massaging the plushy flesh on her body, his fingers dipping into every curve and dimple and admiring the array of tattoos that littered her skin.  His lips were not far behind, kissing, licking and sucking as he moved up her legs.  Without warning when he reached her core in between her legs he dove right in, inhaling deeply as his tongue licked between her slit.  Y/N gasped loudly, her hands gripping the blanket beneath her.  Steve couldn’t stop tasting her, her slick slowly oozing from her as he worked her towards her orgasm.  His fingers parted her lower lips and he eased one finger into her, pumping slowly as she keened at the feeling.  He quickly added another finger, the tip of his tongue flicking her clit quickly then slowing down.  He added another finger, and her back arched as her slick made his fingers squelch in and out of her. 

He sucked her clit harshly as his fingers quickened, curling inside of her just right.  Y/N moaned, then it turned into a shriek as her orgasm washed over her.  Steve continued sucking and fucking her with his fingers as she rode out the orgasm, his own deep moan vibrating into her pussy as he smushed his face into her.  Her legs twitched as she calmed down and Steve finally pulled his fingers out, sucking at her slick on his fingers.

“Taste so good, Omega,” he said lowly as he lifted his wet fingers to her mouth.  Y/N obeyed and opened her mouth, licking and sucking at her slick on his fingers.  She gripped his wrist with her hand and continued sucking two of his fingers, her eyes focused on his face as she sucked them like she would his cock.  Steve groaned at the feeling of her tongue on him, and he quickly moved up and pulled his fingers from her mouth, kissing her lewdly.  Her arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him against her as he nestled his hips between her legs, his cock sliding between her lower lips.  He took his cock in his hand and lined himself up with her pussy.  Y/N’s ankles hooked behind his ass and pulled him towards her, shoving his cock deep inside her in one thrust.  They both moaned against each others’ mouths as he filled her.

“Oh my fucking god,” Y/N whispered against his lips.  “So good, Steve…fuck,” she rolled her hips against him, trying to get him to move.

“My needy Omega,” Steve huffed a laugh, then pulled his hips back and snapped them back into her.  Y/N’s mouth dropped open, her eyes shutting tight as he filled her again.  Steve kissed her all over her face and down to her neck, nosing her scent gland and licking and sucking at it roughly as he thrusted repeatedly into her.  His hands kneaded her breasts, pinching and flicking her nipples until his mouth could replace them and suck and lick at them.  Y/N’s hands were all over him, then ultimately settled on running her fingers through his hair and giving the back of his head a harsh tug.  Steve whimpered at that, his hips trembling.  “Fuck, do that again,” he said as his left arm dug underneath her shoulders and cradled her head in the crook of his elbow, keeping his body close to hers.  Y/N smiled as she scratched his scalp again with both hands, her long nails leaving a tingling sensation as they ran down his head until she gripped his hair and pulled.  Steve whimpered more loudly, his breath fanning her face as he kept himself cheek to cheek with her.  “You’re so good…Y/N…my pretty Omega,” Steve’s free hand slid between their bodies and his thumb started rubbing at her clit as he thrusted faster.  Y/N’s voice rose in pitch, a steady stream of rushed breaths at his thrusts spilling from her lips.

“Knew you were mine from the second I scented you,” Steve groaned, leaning down to lick her gland again.  “Up there singing to me, like a goddamn tease,” he nipped at her neck, making her gasp.  “Prettiest voice I ever heard,” he said.  “Be mine.”

Y/N’s hips twitched, her pussy fluttering around him.  He could feel his knot starting to catch inside her as he became more desperate for her answer.  She tensed at the feeling.  “I’m…I’m my own,” she said, her voice sounding heavy with emotion.  Steve looked at her in alarm, worried he’d said something wrong.  “But I’ll be yours, as long as you’ll be mine,” she said resolutely, her eyes starting to fill with tears.  

Steve nodded fervently.  “I was yours the moment I found you,” he promised.  Y/N blinked rapidly as his knot grew, the tears finally slipping from the sides of her eyes.  “I’ve never wanted anything, anyone, like I want you.  Can I have you…please?” he nipped near her gland again.

Y/N let out a small sob, bringing his head back up and kissing him deeply.  “Yes, Alpha.  I’m yours.”

Steve smiled and kissed her again, his hips thrusting four more times until his knot fully inflated and he came inside her, groaning loudly.  Y/N was right behind him as he flicked her clit, her squeal being muffled by his lips on hers.  He rutted against her as he filled her up, then he broke the kiss and licked down to her neck.  He kissed her gland before opening his mouth wide and biting down on it.  

Y/N’s back arched as he bit her, her hands scratching his back as it triggered another smaller orgasm.  She whimpered and he growled at her pussy squeezing him again.  Their scents combined as he let go of her neck and licked it to sooth the bite.  She was now his mate, and he was hers.  It all went a lot faster than either of them were expecting, but Steve couldn’t find it in himself to care.  He moved them both to lay on their sides, holding her close to his chest as they waited for his knot to deflate.  

Steve tickled her spine with the tips of his fingers, randomly kissing the top of her head and forehead as his breathing evened out.  Y/N’s arm that was wrapped around his body squeezed him and she kissed the spot above his heart on his chest.  He smiled and looked down at her.  “My Omega,” he whispered, nuzzling her cheek with his nose.