A/n: For as long as you can remember, you've been a thorn in your father's side. He'd kept you far from the Red Keep, and now? Suddenly your presence is required.
Warnings: Parental Abuse, A/B/O dynamics (male reader is an omega, Viserys Targaryen is an alpha), Infidelity (Not done to (Y/n)), Smut (bottom male reader x top Viserys Targaryen)(MDNI), (Y/n) gives birth, Angst/Comfort
P.S: Shout out and thank you to @swimmingpainterhandsfreak for this request! I enjoyed writing this! Especially from a Hightower (Y/n)'s POV 🫶🏽
Credits: banners/dividers are made by @/cafekitsune
The carriage jostles and jumps with each rock and near miss on the way to King’s Landing.
“Father, why must I reside in the Red Keep with you and my dear sister?” You ask.
“I am Hand of the King, (Y/n).” Otto responds bored and annoyed.
“I’m aware.” You mutter. “If memory serves, when last I asked you found it amusing.”
Otto stiffens, his scent spikes with fury.
“Your presence provided no benefit.” Otto’s jaw works. “And still it does not.”
You hum.
Otto bristles.
He can’t tell if it’s acknowledgement, or humor.
“If Gwayne is to marry, then he need be free of duties such as seeing to you.” Otto gets out through gritted teeth.
“And why, pray tell, could I not be left to my own? I am man grown, despite your behavior suggesting otherwise.” You ask.
Otto’s hand slams into the carriage wall, mere inches from your head.
“Listen to me, boy.” He snarls. “You will not continue to disrespect me.”
Your throat works.
“I’ve brought you with me because the Seven above know how promiscuous your kind can be.” He sneers
“Right.” You say meekly.
“And your brother deserves respite prior to his nuptials.” Otto adds, his hand dropping back to his side.
“Of course. The favored son requires respite.” You murmur.
“He does.” Otto’s head snaps toward you again. “He is an alpha, my pride and joy, he needs to find a mate and will be severely lacking whilst he tends to you.”
“I wonder why.” You say, leaning towards the window of the carriage. “Couldn’t possibly be their temperament…or their father.”
“Because you are an abomination!” Otto seethes.
Otto leans in close. “Because you are unnatural.”
You laugh, sharp and indignant.
Anything to cover your pain.
“Unnatural…and yet it would seem the Seven made me as I am—“
Your head jerks to the side.
Otto’s hand still raised, almost as if asking for a reason to strike you again.
“You will not engage in blasphemous rhetoric.” Otto’s tone is deathly serious.
Your eyes burn, but you don’t comment.
“Let that be your lesson.” He snarls. “I will not hesitate to strike you again.”
You swallow harshly, eyes low, blinking slowly.
“Do I make myself clear?” He leans in.
You refuse to answer, avoiding his gaze.
Otto’s hand threads in your hair, he yanks your head back.
“Answer me!” He shouts in your face.
You force yourself to still, refusing to give him a flinch. “Yes, father.”
The word is icy.
No warmth in it.
No pretending.
“Good.” Otto lets go of you, turning his attention forward.
You discreetly wipe away the tears that escape.
You can’t— won’t let yourself be weak in his line of sight.
You don’t even register the carriage crossing the threshold into the city.
You don’t even react until you hear the music of dragons high above.
“We’ve made it?” You ask.
“We have.” Otto tersely responds.
As soon as the carriage comes to a stop, you run out.
“(Y/n)—“
You hear Otto’s voice fade into background noise.
“And where are you going lordling?” A knight asks.
“I am (Y/n) of house Hightower.” You say with presence. “I am looking for my sister, Alicent Hightower.”
The knight’s eyes drag up and down your body. “Ah. Well she is with the Princess.”
He steps closer, arousal thickening the air as if to coerce you. “If company is what you need, I myself can provide—“
“No need.” You snap. “Tell me where she is before I inform my father, Lord Hand of your conduct.”
The knight snaps to attention. “They are in the garden, my Lord.”
“Thank you.” You say coldly. “Should you ever conduct yourself in that manner again, I will have your head.”
The knight stiffens.
You can almost hear the rattle of his armor.
“Yes, my lord.” He quickly bows before taking his leave.
You swallow the bile in your throat back.
“In the garden.” You repeat to yourself, walking towards the courtyard immediately.
The flower scent of the garden hits you first.
Then those telltale blood red leaves of the weirwood tree, as they slowly fall.
“—to show her people that they were finished running.” A woman’s voice says.
The sound of a page tearing out of a book follows soon.
“What are you doing?”
You’d recognize that voice anywhere.
It’s Alicent’s.
“So you remember.” The woman’s voice speaks again.
“If-if the septa sees this book, then—“
“Fuck the septa.” The voice is irreverent.
You gasp, then laugh in shock, stepping closer. “Which septa is getting fucked?”
Alicent gasps louder. “(Y/n)! You can’t—“
Alicent’s eyes gloss over. “(Y/n)?”
She runs over throwing both her arms over your shoulders. “I missed you brother.”
You hug her back. “I missed you too dear sister.”
The woman clears her throat.
It doesn’t make you tense like when Otto does it.
“Ah apologies.” Alicent laughs, wiping her eyes. “(Y/n), this is Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. Rhaenyra, this is my brother, (Y/n) Hightower.”
“A pleasure. Alicent has spoken at length about you.” Rhaenyra says.
“All good things I hope.” You respond with a chuckle.
Your eyes widen, your mouth dropping open.
“Princess regarding my earlier question, ‘twas merely a jest, I meant no harm—“
“It’s fine.” Rhaenyra cuts you off. “Please don’t be stuffy like the other courtiers. I have more than enough of them already.”
You stop, taking a breath. “Oh thank the Seven.”
Your eyes meet Rhaenyra’s.
“You’re not what I expected from a Targaryen princess.” You smirk.
Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. “Careful now, Hightower.”
“This is much better.” You clarify. “I rather enjoy brash and bold company.”
“(Y/n) you can’t say that.” Alicent whispers.
Rhaenyra snickers. “I’m brash and bold?”
You laugh with her, nodding your head. “Absolutely, in the best ways possible.”
“Oh I am going to enjoy our friendship.” Rhaenyra says. “Come then. Alicent and I were going to have tea and cake, join us.”
Your eyes go to Alicent’s.
She smiles and nods.
“I’d be honored. Thank you, Rhaenyra.” You fall into step with your sister and the princess.
“Father said the Red Keep was hosting a tourney?” You ask as you pour the tea.
“Yes, we are.” Rhaenyra answers taking a sip.
She hums in delight.
“The heir’s tourney.” She keeps her voice steady. “I pray my father gets the son he’s always wanted.”
“But he has you?” You say confused. “You should be his heir.”
Rhaenyra coughs in surprise. “Pardon?”
“I only mean that he has a firstborn.” You shrug your shoulders taking a sip. “We are all at the mercy to the customs and whims of men much older than us.”
Rhaenyra hides her smirk behind a hand. “That we are…regardless of want, the iron throne will pass to my brother, and I’ll be made to take to husband some lord of this or that holding.”
Your smile tightens.
She makes it sound so…boring.
Being a lord— rather lady of some keep, or castle, having and raising babes.
It sounds like a dream to you.
It reads like a nightmare to her.
“How dreadful.” You murmur.
Alicent’s eyes meet yours.
You subtly shake your head.
“Should we start making way to the tourney?” Alicent asks setting her cup down.
“No.” Rhaenyra murmurs. “They’ll inform us.”
A set of footsteps comes down the hallway. “Princess.”
“My lady, my lord.” The servant bows. “The King has begun to make way to the tourney grounds.”
Rhaenyra sighs, putting her cup down. “It would seem our tea time has come to an end.”
She stands, giving Alicent a hand. “Let us be on our way.”
You follow closely behind.
The sound of steel clashing against steel echoes through the stands.
Alpha and omega pheromones cloud the air in a thick haze.
You watch as Prince Daemon approaches and receives Alicent’s favor.
You watch as Ser Criston Cole receives Rhaenyra’s favor.
For a second you imagine yourself in their spot.
An alpha, tall, strapping, asking for your token.
For you to wish him luck.
You snort, biting the inside of your cheek.
It could never be you.
It would never be you.
None of you notice as King Viserys discreetly withdraws.
With the excitement of watching Criston Cole knock Prince Daemon down, no one knows the price king Viserys is paying inside the Red Keep.
“It’s quite alright.” You pat the spot next to you and Alicent. “You meant no harm.”
Rhaenyra wordlessly sits beside you both.
“Grief…it sharpens the tongue, does it not?” You offer to ease the shame.
Alicent makes a face at that.
She can point to every word she said with intent to harm.
Same for Gwayne.
Her father, your father, had always been cold, grousing for power, for influence.
But the death of Alyrie, his lady wife, had made it more obvious.
As though he had no reason to hide it any longer.
As if when she passed, she took the embers of warmth he carried.
And yet…
She can’t remember a single time you were cruel or unkind in the days following her mother’s death.
Your mother’s death.
You didn’t speak out of turn.
You didn’t become petulant.
It was as if you retreated into yourself.
She knows the why.
Gwayne was allowed to grieve how he pleased.
Knocking squires down, destroying the training field, countless snapped training swords.
Alicent herself dressed in black, tears streaking her face for days after.
She saw you crying once in Oldtown.
It was met with a quick slap.
Sharp words she can still hear.
“Get yourself together. You are a man, despite your other failings, you will act like one.”
After that you seemed unaffected.
Unfazed.
As if your mother’s passing was an inconvenience of time.
It wasn’t until she went to give you a piece of her mind at night that she heard you sobbing to yourself.
When she entered you weren’t crying anymore.
Your face still had the tear tracks, but nothing else gave it away.
“Yes, Alicent?” You asked softly.
“Were—“, her throat worked, she took a few steps closer, “were you crying brother?”
You looked as if caught doing something indecent. “No.”
You scoffed. “Of course not. I am a man. We bear it in silence, or…or whatever it is that Gwayne is doing.”
She didn’t say anything else.
Words weren’t her forte.
She came closer, putting her arms around you.
“I miss her too.” She whispered, voice cracking. “It’s just me, just you, father is in his study.”
She can’t be sure.
She didn’t and still doesn’t know if you cracked.
She swore she felt drops hitting the side of her face, but she never got a good look at your face.
“I know, Alicent. I know.” You whispered back in that calm cadence that betrayed nothing.
“It does.” Rhaenyra says softly.
She leans into your side, placing her hand in yours.
You let her, though she is a Targaryen princess and you the second son of a second son, she reminds you of Alicent.
You can’t help but feel that same brotherly drive to protect her.
“I can’t help but wonder…” she laughs bitterly, “if my father finally found happiness in the few short hours my brother lived.”
“Rhaenyra…” Alicent says softly.
There’s no annoyance or ire in her voice.
“I hope he did.” You say softly. “Or it would make the world all the more unjust.”
Rhaenyra laughs bitterly, swiping at her cheeks.
Everything’s a blur as you all get ready and dressed for the funeral.
You step out when Rhaenyra and Alicent are being dressed.
You yourself are tended to by beta and omega women.
You can feel the way the eyes land on you.
One with expectant eyes.
The other with barely hidden disgust.
Like they’re seeing a wonder of the world.
Or a shadowbinder from Asshai.
You can’t tell anymore.
There’s never been a point in trying to discern someone’s intention when they’ve already decided what they think of you.
The moment you’re alone you squeeze your eyes shut.
You feel your lips tremble as you turn away from the mirror.
The last time you wore black was for your mother’s funeral.
Even now it hurts.
Even now it feels like a phantom limb.
Like she’s waiting for you at home.
Just a stone’s throw from Hightower’s library.
But she isn’t.
She hasn’t been.
And she’ll never be again.
“For Alicent.” You tell yourself. “For Rhaenyra.”
When you open your eyes, you force your face into something sad.
Something kind, something gentle, something that can’t be scrutinized.
“(Y/n), don’t delay.” Otto called out already moving without you.
You don’t run to catch up.
You start moving like the world will with or without you.
Stepping out of the Red Keep just outside the Dragonpit the air shifts.
The scent of iron and heat barrels through the air.
The indignant roars of the very beasts that sit house Targaryen at the top of the world shake the ground.
Another roar splits the sky as a dragon descends, growling as it approaches the funeral pyre.
You stand beside Rhaenyra, ignoring the stares from your father and house Velaryon alike.
She doesn’t notice you until she stops talking to Daemon.
She sees the way you eye the dragon.
Half amazement.
Half fear.
“She’s a beauty, is she not?” She murmurs, her tired eyes landing on her dragon.
“That she is Princess.” You whisper.
“She’s mine. Her name is Syrax.” She says brighter than she’s been in days.
She looks to Alicent, before back to you. “My uncle says I’ll need to be even more present for my father…as he’s grieving too.”
You all wait as Viserys struggles to speak.
He can’t form the words that would take even Aemma’s remains from him.
Rhaenyra’s eyes meet yours. “What would you do in my stead?”
You take a breath. “Despite how he is…he is your father still…and what’s more than that, he’s also our king.”
“He is.” Rhaenyra says softly.
“Even if you’re unable to stomach the thought…if you’re unable to act on his behalf…then perhaps do it for her.” You say as your eyes drift over to the pyre where Aemma’s body lies.
Rhaenyra’s throat catches as she follows your eyes.
A soft chuckle escapes her. “You speak as if from experience.”
Your jaw tightens. “I’ve been told the same before.”
“Is it?” She whispers.
You don’t answer.
You don’t even react.
Rhaenyra’s eyes scan your face.
She nods slowly like she knows the answer.
*”Dracarys.” She says strongly, eyes red-rimmed.
Syrax roars and coos lowly, her talons digging into the earth as she approaches.
Her yellow flames coalesce and gather in her maw, before jetting forth and igniting the pyre.
Rhaenyra’s breathing catches, she takes a step closer to Viserys.
The days after the funeral continue with a heavy haze.
Rhaenyra is no longer only a princess.
Within the week she was made Princess of Dragonstone.
The heir apparent.
Despite the whispers and murmurs that the council was pushing Viserys to take another wife to secure the line.
You and Alicent stay beside Rhaenyra despite her claims that she’s fine.
Or rather, at least you do.
Alicent tries but more often than not she disappears.
She’ll wear the dress Alyrie gifted her in the morning, and then when she reappears in the evening she’s wearing one of Alyrie’s dresses.
“A change of dress, sister?” You ask softly.
Her shoulders tense.
Her gaze can’t meet yours.
Her eyes flick towards yours before finding the ground again.
“I— I merely wanted to feel closer to her.” Alicent defends herself.
You didn’t ask accusingly.
You didn’t imply anything.
Your eyes don’t narrow, you don’t give her any indication you’re watching her.
But you are.
It was subtle, but you notice another scent threaded into hers.
The scent pulls at your own.
Your omega rises in recognition.
A tug in your loins.
Skin pricking hot.
Something the septas at Oldtown would’ve labeled as shameful, coiling like a snake in your core.
You force it back down.
It’s a heavy, spicy scent.
Threaded with fire and a touch of grief.
You waved it off.
Otto would rather cut his own hand off and feed it to the dragons than betroth his only daughter to Prince Daemon of all people.
You’re walking through the halls of the Red Keep bored beyond belief.
Rhaenyra is in the sky, soaring on Syrax.
Alicent, ever the specter, is missing once again.
You stop as you pass the throne room.
The guards rush to some disturbance in the courtyard.
You look down the hall, then back, making sure you’re alone.
You walk up to the door as inconspicuous as possible.
You gently push the door, eyes widening as it opens with little resistance.
You don’t hear the shuffling footsteps as the door shuts behind you.
The shadow behind the throne dances with each flicker from the torches in the room.
Sharp jagged lines that seem more like teeth than the pile of swords it is.
You scoff softly. “It’s just a seat.”
You draw closer, your hand going out to touch it.
A seat that many would die and break for.
A position you’re sure Otto would gleefully sacrifice you for.
You shake your head, letting your hand fall to your side.
“Everyone knows the legend.” You whisper.
Those that are unworthy of it, will bleed on it.
You’re no Targaryen.
And you’re no alpha.
If you are anything, it is unworthy of such power.
You don’t hear the door open and close.
You don’t hear the footsteps approaching over your own thoughts.
“Bloody seat. Drives men and women alike mad.” You spit.
“I wouldn’t say that.” Viserys says softly.
“Mind your tongue, boy.” He adds with zero bite.
“Y-Your Grace—“ you sputter, “I— I didn’t mean— I was only—“
“Breathe, (Y/n).” Viserys says gently.
Your throat works as you take a deep breath.
“Your Grace.” You say politely.
“My sincerest apologies.” You say already bowing. “I did not mean for you—“
Viserys’ hand lands on your shoulder, he gingerly guides you back up. “You’re Otto’s son, correct?”
You blink rapidly, trying to discern what he gains from being kind to you.
“Yes, Your Grace.” You respond.
“Otto’s son…a handsome one to be sure…some would say.” Viserys thinks as he watches your lips move.
“Tell me, my dear boy, why are you in the throne room alone?” He asks, eyes softening a touch.
You feel heat crawling up your face.
You clear your throat. “Princess Rhaenyra is on Syrax, my sister Alicent is a ghost these days…I was bored, Your Grace.”
He hums softly, taking a step closer. “Boredom can be hard on a growing mind, hmm?”
His eyes dilate as he steps closer.
Your scent hits him.
Honey left in the sun.
Clean linen and lavender, with citrus threaded throughout.
He holds his scent back from responding.
You freeze catching your own scent wafting off of you.
You applied the ointment your father gave you, and somehow you still shine through it.
“Is—“, Viserys’ throat bobs, “is that you?”
“No.” You blurt. “No, Your Grace. That scent is my sister’s.”
“It clings to the cloth, Your Grace.” You lie.
Viserys nods slowly, electing to believe it.
“Of course. It wouldn’t be him. It’d be his sister.” Viserys tells himself.
He tries to ignore the ache in his chest, the nagging feeling that it’s not her.
“Help yourself to the books in my private library.” Viserys says softly.
“I wouldn’t want to impose, Your Grace.” You say.
“You wouldn’t be. I rather enjoy reading, I’m sure you’d find a favorite or two in my collection.” Viserys says as he starts to leave.
“And try not to get caught on your own in here.” He adds as the door closes behind him.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” You say to empty room.
You feel your heart flutter.
You shoot it down before it becomes unmanageable.
“He’s king…twice my age…what’s more than that…he’s Rhaenyra’s father.” You murmur, taking your leave.
Even as you lie in bed, staring at the sheer cloth of the canopy, you can’t stop picturing Viserys.
What his weight in your bed would feel like.
What the warmth of his body would feel like next to yours.
“His hands were gentle…calloused…but soft.” You think as your eyes flutter shut.
“(Y/n).” Otto says sternly.
You jerk forward in bed.
You don’t let your breathing turn erratic, you don’t panic, you force yourself to be calm.
“Father.” You say softly, avoiding his eyes. “My apologies, have I missed an important event?”
Otto scoffs. “No.”
“Get ready.” Otto leans in. “Make yourself presentable.”
You nod, not trusting your voice.
You wait until he leaves before finally getting out of bed and getting dressed.
The council room feels heated.
Like flint and steel striking.
You shift unconsciously in your seat.
There’s something you can’t quite name in the air.
Heavy.
Thick.
Expectant.
Your eyes keep drifting over to Rhaenyra who seems to be unbothered.
Her eyes catch yours, she flashes a small smile that says relax.
But she can’t feel the knife sharpening like you can.
Your eyes flick over to Alicent.
She seems half present, half floating away.
The smile on her face is just a mask, you can see the numbness she’s trying to hide.
You all stand as the doors open.
“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name. King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” The guard announces.
Viserys walks with purpose, coming to a stop at the head of the table.
When he sits down, so does everyone else.
“I’ve called you all here today with news.” Viserys’ voice comes out controlled. “For long I have heard that the royal line is unguarded.”
He looks around the table. “Men sitting here suggested and put forth their daughters to marry me when Aemma’s pyre had just extinguished.”
Some of the councilmen avert their eyes.
“I have decided on my next wife.” Viserys says proudly, though you can tell by the way his eyes dim, he’d have waited longer. “I have decided to marry…”
You all hold your breath.
You especially.
It was never going to be you.
You knew that.
But the heart can’t help but hope.
“The lovely Alicent of house Hightower.” Viserys finishes, eyes finding your sister’s.
Your eyes widen.
You look over to Rhaenyra.
You catch the way her lips warble.
The way her eyes gloss over.
“No.” She whispers.
Her head whips around to Alicent.
She tilts her head, expectant.
Waiting for something.
Anything.
An ‘I’m sorry.’
Something that would make the sting easier to swallow.
Rhaenyra scoffs before storming out of the council room.
Before you can get up to join her another voice chimes in.
“Your Grace, you honor me.” Otto says bowing.
“In turn, I’d like to put forth my son, (Y/n) of house Hightower to be a member of the Kingsguard.” He adds.
Your heart stops.
You know what the white cloak vows are.
Celibacy.
Marriage was never in your future regardless.
Much less children.
But to know your father’s cravenness knows no limits…
Hurts.
In a way you thought you’d long outgrown.
“I’ve my heir Gwayne to carry on my line, and who better to defend Alicent than her own brother?” Otto asks.
Viserys considers it.
His gaze goes over to you.
You stiffen.
You sit still.
Half praying he says no, half praying he says yes.
Either way, it’s a collar.
Another tie to hold you down.
“Very well. I cannot argue with that.” Viserys finally speaks. “(Y/n) of house Hightower, you will enter formal training and join the Kingsguard.”
You clear your throat, bracing for a crack you’re trying to stop. “You honor me and my house, Your Grace.”
Viserys looks you up and down.
Almost like he— or rather his alpha can tell you’re lying.
“Think nothing of it.” Viserys responds.
“Your Grace, might I be excused?” You ask quickly, before Otto can steamroll you.
Viserys quirks his head.
“Ignore him, my king.” Otto stares daggers into the side of your head. “I shall punish him accordingly.”
Viserys raises a hand before Otto can move. “(Y/n), you may go.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” You say before quickly leaving.
You can still feel Otto’s eyes on you.
You walk briskly, going into your room and closing it behind yourself.
Your hand shoots to your mouth.
You gag, bile rising in your throat, eyes watering.
You barely make it to your chamber pot.
You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before standing.
You look at yourself in the mirror.
The future you once felt brave enough to imagine flashes again.
An alpha, tall, calloused hands, that hold you gently, stands beside you.
His armor black and red.
The sigil of a three headed dragon on his chest plate.
Children with platinum hair and violet eyes around you both.
Your stomach swollen with another babe.
It melts into nothing.
A new image burns into view.
You stand beside Alicent.
Watching over her brood of children.
Only useful for as long as you can swing your sword.
Your smile hasn’t changed, but you’re deader behind the eyes.
The years are unkind.
But that’s not surprising.
They’ve never been kind.
Not since you presented.
Each day you awoke, sword thrust into your hand.
Each day you were marched into the training yard and made to swing until you couldn’t move your arms.
Each day it seemed like your sparring partners got more and more aggressive as if they had more to prove than you.
Each day you spent with Rhaenyra, both avoiding Alicent when possible.
Neither of you could believe or stomach the fact that she had married Viserys.
The fact that she hadn’t even told Rhaenyra what she was planning.
The fact that she didn’t even tell you.
It made for awkward encounters especially once you were officially a knight of the Kingsguard.
She as Queen outranks you.
She as Queen was no longer the bright eyed girl you grew up with.
She was your charge.
She was the person you were to die for at a moment’s notice if the world demanded it of you.
“Brother.” Alicent whispers.
It seems to echo in her private solar.
“Yes, Your Grace?” You respond monotonously.
She makes a face. “I am your sister still.”
Your eyes meet hers. “Queen Alicent of house Hightower.”
She stiffens, color draining from her face.
“You are my blood still, I have not forgotten.” You say solemnly. “Our stations are much too different.”
She scoffs, eyes burning. “Or is it that you and Rhaenyra will continue to punish me until she’s satisfied?”
You turn to face her.
“Rhaenyra’s well earned grudge aside…she is not punishing you.” You say softly. “You betrayed her.”
Alicent crosses her arms, turning away from you and walking to the window.
“I betrayed her?” She parrots back, offended.
“You were her best friend. Her only friend until I arrived.” You take a step closer. “And mere weeks after they had laid her mother to rest you warmed His Grace’s bed without so much as a word of warning.”
Alicent’s arms drop. “I didn’t want this.”
“And yet you take to it like a fish to water.” You respond.
“You do not get to judge me.” She snarls in your face. “You wear that white cloak well for someone who didn’t want it.”
You laugh bitterly. “There’s a difference Alicent.”
“I am Otto’s omega son. You are his omega daughter.” Your voice is low. “His disappointment would’ve been great, yes, but he would not deign to harm you for saying no.”
You take a step closer to her. “He wouldn’t think twice about killing me for saying no.”
Alicent’s mouth opens to argue but she stops.
She can’t find the words to push back.
She knows it’s true.
“Then why do you keep me at arm’s length?” She pivots.
“You are the Queen.” You stress. “I am your sworn shield. I must give my life for yours the moment the realm demands it.”
Alicent huffs. “Do you hate me so much you can’t stomach being sworn to me?”
You roll your eyes, slowly shaking your head. “No Alicent. I would’ve given my life for yours as your brother. I still would now…but the circumstances are different.”
Alicent steps closer to you, hand between your shoulder blades. “It doesn’t have to be, brother.”
“And yet it is.” You say softly. “And it always will be.”
Alicent’s hand falls to her side.
Her lip trembles.
“I don’t want to be Queen.” She mutters. “I don’t want to be Queen Alicent Hightower if it means you cannot speak to me plainly.”
You turn around, catching the way her eyes gloss and those salt tracks cascade down her face. “Come here.”
She turns away.
You hug her regardless.
“It is an adjustment for all of us.” You whisper.
You can feel Alicent shaking.
“Will— will Rhaenyra ever forgive me?” She manages to ask.
You look to the side. “I don’t know. Time heals all wounds…and it also calcifies rage and anger.”
Alicent tries and fails to hold back a sob.
“Give her time.” You whisper. “She may come around.”
“Does…does she ask about me?” Alicent asks softly.
“On occasion.” You reveal. “When the wine and ale get to her, and her lips loosen.”
Alicent giggles wetly. “She’s always been like that.”
“She has, hasn’t she?” You add with a small laugh.
“How is she?” Alicent asks.
“She’s well. Settling in with her husband Laenor.” You say. “Lucerys and Joffrey are a handful.”
Alicent’s hand goes to the small of her abdomen. “The Mother has blessed our queen to be with strong heirs.”
“She has.” You respond.
“And for my sins, it would seem the Mother refuses to send me children of my own.” Alicent murmurs, hand gently caressing up and down her abdomen.
“Have faith sister. It’s bound to happen.” You whisper, letting go.
“It’s been a year, (Y/n).” She whispers. “Six of my heats have come and gone.”
“At the risk of being vulgar,” you clear your throat, “has His Grace knotted you?”
Alicent sighs. “He hasn’t. And it isn’t from a lack of trying.”
You quirk your head. “What do you mean?”
“He…finishes….inside me every time, but his knot has never once formed.” She reveals. “He’s tried to mark me to make my womb quicken, and yet…his fangs never sink in deep enough.”
You hum. “Have you both spoken to the Grand Maester?”
Alicent nods. “We’ve been seeing him quietly…discretion is of the utmost importance in this matter.”
“I’d say so. What has the maester said?” You ask.
Alicent swallows. “He won’t discuss that with me. Only with Viserys.”
“Only with His Grace?” You ask.
“Yes.” She nods. “I’ve only heard bits and pieces something about incompatibility…scent mismatch…or other.”
“That’s odd.” You murmur.
“Have you asked father?” You begrudgingly ask.
Alicent scoffs, crossing her arms, jaw tight. “He can scarcely look at me.”
“All he does is fret about and say I should’ve provided heirs by now.” Alicent whispers.
“There must be more to uncover, surely.” You offer. “If I may make a suggestion, Your Grace?”
Alicent’s eyes meet yours. “Speak freely.”
“The Kingsguard is rarely sent away. Our oath dictates that our loyalty is to the crown above all.” You say. “If I were in the same room as the maester and His Grace, when they discuss what ails you both…I may be able to bring back knowledge.”
Her eyes widen. “Such a thing—“, her throat works.
She approaches the door, opening it, looking down the hall before closing the door once more and drawing closer, voice even quieter than before, “would be tantamount to treason.”
You lean in, ensuring only she hears you. “Only if the King were to find out…what’s more is I am your sworn shield.”
“My charge, before loyalty, before the king, before the crown, is to safeguard your life.” You whisper.
Alicent’s eyes water. “You’d do this for me?”
You nod.
Quick and sure.
“Not for the Queen.” You take a step closer. “But for my sister, whom I still love.”
Alicent’s lip trembles. “If you’re found out…”
You give her a small smile. “They’ll strip me of my cloak and exile me…or they’ll take my head.”
Alicent huffs through her laugh. “I wouldn’t let them.”
Your eyes dim, your smile tightens. “I value the sentiment.”
Whether she’d let them or not is of no concern.
She is queen.
Viserys would surely take your head.
Especially at Otto’s urging.
He’d rid himself of two burdens in one blow.
Otto’s loyalty to Viserys would be beyond question.
Besides him, what father would ask for the harshest punishment for their son?
“Inform me when His Grace is due next to see the maester.” You utter.
Alicent nods. “Thank you, (Y/n). At times, I think he speaks more freely with you than with anyone else.”
You smile softly, putting your helmet back on and exiting her room.
You stand beside the door, like a sentinel, fulfilling your charge.
The way Alicent spoke still echoes in your mind.
“At times, I think he speaks more freely with you than with anyone else.”
Had she noticed?
Had anyone else?
You were careful…
Or rather careful enough.
You tried not to linger around him.
And yet every time you wanted to be anywhere else…
Somewhere you weren’t Otto Hightower’s son, somewhere you weren’t an abomination…
You found yourself in Viserys’ private library.
Never without permission, you told yourself.
“Help yourself to the books in my private library.”
You still remember the way his eyes softened when he spoke.
You’d never seen anything like it before.
You’d seen gazes turn cold before.
You’d seen gazes harden before.
All after they had learned what you were.
His were the first that didn’t see the abject horror.
It was as if he saw you first and foremost.
It was a private little indulgence you told yourself.
One of two you allowed yourself.
In the quiet of the library, you briefly imagined being his lord husband.
“Good evening, Your Grace.” You say measured.
Not too eager.
Not too soft.
But enough warmth you could sell yourself the fantasy.
“Good evening, (Y/n).” Viserys responds just as kindly.
“How has your evening been, My King?” You ask, smothering the flutter in your chest.
Viserys clears his throat.
Either annoyed or affected by your voice.
Your mind couldn’t tell which it was, but your heart had settled on fondness.
“It’s been well.” Viserys sighs. “Exhausting as usual.”
You snicker softly. “I can imagine, Your Grace. You bear the weight of the realm upon your shoulders.”
Viserys chortles. “You sound like your father.”
Your eyes widen, your face pales just a shade, your throat tightens.
Viserys looks you over once, an emotion in his eye you couldn’t place. “Or rather…you speak as if you’ve years of court experience.”
Your shoulders drop an inch at the correction.
“Your words honor me, Your Grace.” You say with a softness that borders on reverence.
It was a nightly occurrence.
One you looked forward to with a yearning you couldn’t name.
Every blow that landed, every blow you returned tenfold, every welt, every bruise seemed to numb when you entered his library.
You found Viserys in the same spot each time you entered.
Always a book in hand as he stared at the portrait of his late wife.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace.” You whisper.
“As am I.” He murmurs. “Tell me, (Y/n)…do you think she loathes me?”
You follow his tired line of sight up, resting upon the late Queen Aemma Arryn.
“I do not know, my king.” You answer. “I think in her final moments perhaps she was angry.”
Viserys turned to face you.
“Putting your duty, the crown, the realm, before oneself would wound anyone.” You say softly. “But as anyone with eyes could tell you, she was devoted to you. I think her rage was short lived…she perhaps felt grief most of all, having gone before you.”
Viserys’ breath catches.
Your eyes shoot downward, letting him grieve in as much privacy as could be allowed.
“She was, was she not?” Viserys’ voice breaks, but you don’t linger on it.
You don’t make it bigger than it needs to be.
“You have the best parts of you and her, in the Princess of Dragonstone.” You whisper, taking a step closer.
“My only daughter.” Viserys whispers. “My heir.”
Viserys looks to you.
Something warm, molten, something he shouldn’t feel for you, something he should feel for his wife Alicent.
His fangs seem impotent when he’s in bed with her, and yet here in your presence they ache.
“You and your sister have unique scents.” Viserys whispers.
You stiffen. “We do, Your Grace.”
He takes a step closer to you. “Yours is always so faint.”
Viserys’ nostrils flare as if he trying to breathe you in deeper.
As if trying to find the difference between you and Alicent.
You nervously chuckle. “I am a beta, my King.”
Viserys doesn’t react.
Not anymore.
Years ago he bought the lie once.
In doing so he wed Alicent.
He suspects you’re lying.
But he isn’t sure.
An omega scent he can’t place a face to springs up once a month, around the same time you seem to disappear.
But now standing in front of you?
“I am going mad…he has no scent.” Viserys tells himself.
“I have no scent to speak of.” You add. “What clings to me is merely a veil of Queen Alicent’s scent.”
Viserys nods, but his eyes gently drift across your face.
You feel your heart beat spiking.
Your omega responding to the alpha in front of you.
What you’ve long kept hidden, under steel plates and a white cloak, seems to stir regardless.
Viserys studies your face, before looking away. “And what pray tell, brings you to me at this hour?”
You stand straighter. “May I speak freely, Your Grace?”
Viserys’ lips curl ever so slightly. “I’d be offended if you didn’t, good ser.”
You clear your throat, trying to lessen the heat coiling in your lower belly. “I’ve….I’ve heard things, my King.”
Viserys stiffens.
“Rumors and whispers…commonfolk that forget themselves and speak freely of you and Her Grace.” You elaborate.
“Half say the crown weakens, a virile alpha unable to breed a fertile omega.” You say softly.
Before Viserys can react, you continue.
“The other half curse House Hightower.” You say with a mirthless chuckle. “They say Her Grace is barren…”
“I’ll have their tongues.” Viserys seethes. “Names, Ser (Y/n).”
You lower your head. “I did not see their faces, my King.”
Viserys grinds his teeth. “It matters little and less.”
His steps sound heavier, like he’s venting his anger through motion.
“The realm will get a spare in due time.” He mutters.
“If I may be bold, Your Grace?” You offer.
Viserys looks expectantly towards you.
“For Alicent.” You tell yourself.
“I am no maester…I do not claim to be worldly, but I know enough.” You take a step closer. “Perhaps the next time you see the maester for the…hardship you and my dear sister face…I could be in the room?”
Viserys quirks his head.
He doesn’t love the idea.
He doesn’t hate it either.
The thought of having you in the room when the maester speaks of his knot, his measurements, whether he’s still virile, has something dark and lusty curling in his loins.
“You would do this for me?” Viserys asks.
“I am a knight of the Kingsguard.” You say with a smile. “I would die for you, for Alicent.”
Viserys ignores the last half.
Hearing you’d die for him has his alpha pacing.
It sounds…wrong.
Off.
He should be making such declaration.
Or he thinks at least.
“Very well.” Viserys turns away from you. “You are my most loyal…knight, Ser (Y/n).”
You stand a little taller, ignoring the traitorous little flutter low in your stomach. “You honor me, Your Grace.”
“That’ll be all.” He murmurs.
You silently bow, before taking your leave.
Viserys’ jaw tightens with each creak and clink of your armor.
He sighs deeply once he can’t hear the metal against metal.
“This is rather…” Orwyle coughs, clearing his throat, “unorthodox, my king.”
“What is?” Viserys asks plainly.
Orwyle’s eyes slowly drift to you.
“Ser (Y/n)’s presence.” He answers.
“Ser (Y/n)’s presence is none of your concern.” Viserys says coldly.
“Of course no, Your Grace, I merely—“
“You merely insult him.” Viserys interjects. “I trust him to defend me and my wife with his life.”
“This is paltry compared to that.” Viserys adds.
“If Grand Maester Orwyle finds my presence distracting, Your Grace, I can leave?” You offer.
“Stay, Ser (Y/n).” Viserys says like a command, even with the thread of warmth under it. “I’m sure for all his grand talents, the Grand Maester can handle an audience of one.”
Orwyle’s smile tightens. “Exactly, Your Grace.”
You shift your weight between your feet.
Orwyle draws closer to Viserys. “Your Grace, may I?”
Viserys nods, taking off his overcoat.
Orwyle pats the exam table, waiting as Viserys sits.
Orwyle’s hands stop at Viserys’ belt.
He looks to you, before turning back to Viserys. “Are you sure about this, Your Grace?”
Viserys’ jaw tightens.
He can’t meet your eyes, but he feels you staring intently.
“Go on then.” Viserys tersely mumbles.
Orwyle nods, undoing Viserys’ belt and pulling his pants down.
Orwyle takes a step back, grabbing his tools, as Viserys’ hand grips the waistband of his underwear.
Viserys looks to you.
Your eyes meet.
You cough, heat crawling up your face.
Your eyes dart to the side.
Viserys pushes his underwear down, he shivers as his soft cock shrinks a little in the cold air.
“The issue remains the same, my king?” Orwyle asks, turning back probe in hand.
“Yes.” He manages to say. “I am,” his eyes dart to you before falling again, “currently, unable to knot my wife.”
Viserys’ cheeks turn pinker.
Not enough to be noticeable.
Just enough he feels it himself.
“Not from a lack of trying, mind you.” Viserys adds, trying hard not to wince at how he sounds.
“Gods it is beneath me to try and brag about that.” He tells himself.
“And Her Grace’s scent does nothing to remedy the situation?” Orwyle presses.
Viserys grits his teeth. “No. We’ve tried the usual remedies. She’s gone without…bathing for days to make her scent stronger…she’s worn the same undergarment for days on end…nothing has worked.”
“Let us see.” Orwyle whispers. “Here you are Your Grace.”
Orwyle holds open a box.
Viserys groans internally as he pulls Alicent’s panties from the box.
He holds it to his nose as Orwyle continues.
While they drone on about treatment, and the lack of what has worked, you keep fighting to have your eyes stay above Viserys’ chest.
Every time your eyes drop lower your scent becomes harder to hold down.
Viserys’ scent is stronger now, at this distance.
He doesn’t smell the way one would expect, given the issues he’s facing.
He smells strong.
Virile.
Fertile.
Like an alpha.
All cardamom and amber.
Your eyes flutter, you go to take a deep breath.
You freeze.
Eyes widening.
“The flesh seems healthy.” Orwyle murmurs, gently poking and prodding Viserys’ manhood.
Your scent blooms.
Notes of citrus and clean linen escape before you compose yourself.
Viserys’ lips go to a thin line as his cock gives a little twitch.
“Good response.” Orwyle comments.
Orwyle’s probe moves closer to the base of Viserys’ cock.
He pokes and prods as gentle as can be expecting the same reaction as yesterday, and the day before.
Viserys’ pupils dilate as he takes in the new omega scent blooming through the air.
“Gods— it’s…it’s Alicent?” Viserys questions to himself.
The question doesn’t need an answer.
He can pick the notes apart cleanly.
It isn’t Alicent.
She’s citrus too, yes, but more orange forward.
The scent in his nose is lemon.
Viserys bites his tongue to keep from groaning.
“Still no—“ Orwyle’s sentence dies on his tongue.
The fleshy bulb at the base of Viserys’ cock makes itself more known, more present.
“Your Grace—“ Orwyle mutters as he continues to stimulate Viserys’ slowly swelling knot.
“Orwyle—“ Viserys grits out, “I am an alpha, and I have not properly knotted my wife since I married her. If you continue I fear I’ll disgrace us both.”
Orwyle pulls away, stun apparent across his face as Viserys’ cock reaches full mast.
“My word.” Orwyle murmurs, jotting down the reaction.
“Already reddened at the tip, leaking this heavily…” He murmurs to himself despite Viserys’ mounting anguish.
Viserys hesitates to pull his pants and undergarments up.
His eyes drift over to you again, only to find you staring intently at the ground.
“Ser (Y/n).” Viserys calls out.
He watches as you tremble, before steeling yourself.
“Yes, my king?” Your voice wavers once as it carries.
Viserys bites the inside of his cheek, cock throbbing and jumping.
Viserys’ mouth opens, before closing.
“See yourself out.” Viserys says.
“At once, Your Grace.” You murmur before leaving as quick as you can.
Viserys pulls his pants up, hissing as the material chafes against his cock.
The moment he can’t hear your steps hurrying down the hall anymore he turns to Orwyle.
“Well, it would seem the issue has resolved itself.” Orwyle says proudly.
“I suggest while His Grace is willing and able, to mate with Queen Alicent, such that she can provide you an heir.” He adds.
“Grand Maester.” Viserys speaks, eyes still kept at the door you exited.
“Yes, my king?” He asks.
“What is Ser (Y/n)’s presentation?” Viserys asks, eyes squeezing shut as his cock jumps in his pants.
“Lord Otto Hightower has told us all Ser (Y/n) is a beta.” Orwyle responds.
“And based on your observations?” Viserys finally turns to face him.
“I have none.” Orwyle says matter of factly.
“You dare to lie to your king?” Viserys spits, standing tall as he gets off of the exam table.
“I do not lie, Your Grace.” Orwyle defends. “I have not tended to Ser (Y/n), once.”
Viserys’ brow furrows. “Not once?”
Orwyle nods. “Not once. Lord Hand summons a maester from his holdings in Oldtown to see (Y/n) when needed.”
Viserys quirks his head at that. “Find out who, and summon them. Ensure proper care is taken so Otto does not find out.”
“But Your Grace—“
“That will be all Grand Maester.” Viserys interjects. “See it done, and let me know when he will be visiting us.”
Orwyle’s jaw clenches. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
It took moons, but Orwyle succeeded.
Moons of Orwyle digging into ledgers in the dead of night.
Moons of Orwyle reading Otto Hightower’s correspondence with Oldtown.
Moons of Viserys and Alicent continuing to see him due to their marital problems.
But Orwyle had found the maester, and issued Viserys’ summons.
“The last raven we received suggests he’ll be in the Red Keep by dinner.” Orwyle reveals.
“Good.” Viserys says. “Ensure he’s well fed, well rested, and above all hidden.”
Orwyle nods. “If I may, Your Grace?”
“You may.” Viserys nods shutting his book.
“What do you expect to receive from him?” Orwyle asks. “If he affirms (Y/n) is a beta?”
Viserys scoffs. “I expect the truth. (Y/n) is not a beta.”
“And if he is?” Orwyle insists. “What then?”
“Then I continue as I have without any new heirs.” Viserys snaps. “Rhaenyra is my daughter, she is my heir, and her line is strong enough as is.”
Orwyle bristles under Viserys’ alpha pheromones and rage.
“I meant no disrespect, my king.” Orwyle manages to get out.
Viserys takes a breath. “I know, Grand Maester. I know.”
“I…I feel things in my body…and they each point to the abject truth of Ser (Y/n)’s true nature.” Viserys says softly.
Orwyle doesn’t react. “Very well.”
Viserys stands still until he hears the doors to his library open and shut.
He walks over to the painting of Aemma.
His eyes drag over every inch of her painted form, until his gaze meets hers.
“What am I doing, Aemma?” Viserys whispers. “Our little girl is spoken about as if she is insufficient.”
He hangs his head. “Is it selfish of me to want love again?”
He braces himself against the wall with his hands.
“Is it unsightly of me to claim a new omega?” His voice warbles.
He looks back up, his violet hues wet and slightly reddened. “I chose wrong that day…I shouldn’t have picked the babe.”
“Now you’re gone…and here I stand in a situation of my own making.” Viserys bitterly mumbles.
“He’s like you, you know.” Viserys says softly. “Kind in the eyes in a way no one has earned. Worldly enough he speaks with humility to those who haven’t earned it.”
Viserys sighs deeply. “Wouldst you begrudge me for taking another? Would you direct your ire at me or at him if I choose him instead of the babe?”
Viserys’ laugh comes out broken as he wipes his tears. “Neither I suspect. You’d hold our son closer and smile.”
Viserys takes a deep breath, regaining his composure, before stepping out.
He goes about his day thinking only of the moment he’ll sit across from your maester to ask him directly the question that’s been burning a hole into his head for the last few years.
“Maester Bennard.” Orwyle says warmly. “Thank you for your haste.”
“It’s not a daily occurrence that the King of the Seven Kingdoms wants to speak to a mere maester.” Bennard responds. “Thank you for having me.”
Orwyle takes a step closer. “I assume Otto has no inkling you’re here?”
Bennard clears his throat, his voice drops an octave. “It wasn’t easy. Otto has many eyes and ears.”
“And yet?” Orwyle presses.
“He hasn’t a clue.” Bennard assures.
Orwyle takes a breath. “Good. Let us not keep His Grace waiting.”
Bennard nods, keeping pace with Orwyle as he’s led through Maegor’s tunnels.
“Is such secrecy needed?” Bennard whispers.
“Above all.” Orwyle says, leaning forward as if ensuring the passages are empty before taking another step.
Orwyle stands in front of a wall, hand outstretched. “Maester Bennard?”
He tenses. “Yes, Grand Maester?”
Orwyle grits his teeth. “Do not think to lie to King Viserys.”
Bennard’s eyes widen. “W—why would I lie to His Grace?”
Orwyle stands a little straighter. “I did not mean to imply you would.”
His hand presses against the brickwork, a section carved out slides open. “Merely a warning.”
The light bleeds into the tunnel.
Bennard’s eyes squint as he exits into Viserys’ library.
The Targaryen King stands tall, book open in hand.
“Your Grace.” Orwyle bows. “I’ve brought Ser (Y/n)’s maester.”
“Welcome, Maester Bennard.” Viserys says shutting his book.
He turns to face the man. “I hope the voyage to King’s Landing wasn’t too tedious.”
“Your Grace.” Bennard greets with a bow. “I rather enjoyed the passage, it’s not every day I have reason to come to the capital.”
Viserys smiles, taking another step closer, hands clasped behind his back.
Bennard’s legs tense, almost as if he thought to step back, and decided against it.
“I suppose you’re aware of why I had you brought here?” Viserys asks.
Bennard clears his throat. “Only an inkling, my king.”
Bennard’s hands wring the fabric of his sleeves. “I would venture this is in regard to Ser (Y/n) Hightower.”
Viserys’ eyes sharpen. “It is in fact.”
Viserys steps closer, before circling the maester. “Ser (Y/n) Hightower, proclaims he is a beta.”
Bennard’s eyes widen, his gaze drops to the ground.
“And yet.” Viserys stops right in front of Bennard, but he doesn’t grace him with a single glance. “There are certain effects he has on me.”
“Your Grace, I assure you whatever confusion you’ve—“
Bennard’s breathing hitches.
He trembles as Viserys’ cold rings burn the flesh of his neck.
“Lying to your king is one way to ensure the loss of your head.” Viserys murmurs.
“Ser (Y/n) Hightower is a fine knight. Loyal to a fault. Willing to die for me, for his sister.” Viserys’ holds back a growl.
“S—such qualities are exemplary in knight.” Bennard manages to get out.
Viserys’ eyes dart to meet Bennard’s. “Such qualities are.”
“Willingness to die for your charge, is above all a prized trait in Kingsguard knights.” Viserys admits.
Viserys’ voice drops into ice and steel. “Not something an alpha would desire from their omega, from their mate.”
Bennard’s face twitches in disgust at the word mate. “Ser (Y/n) Hightower is not an omega.”
Viserys draws his Valyrian steel knife.
He drags the blunt edge following the edges of Bennard’s lips.
“Your Grace—“
Viserys raises a hand.
Orwyle shuts his mouth.
“Lie again, and I will have your tongue.” Viserys says candidly.
“Your Grace, if I confirm the allegation—“
“Allegation?” Viserys asks, slowly twitching the knife until the sharp edge almost touches flesh.
Bennard takes a shuddering breath. “Omega men are abhorrent…in Oldtown they’re sent away…given to the Great Sept…only the northern savages treat them as…”
Viserys’ gaze sharpens. “As what?”
“As people.” Bennard spits. “As men. As though they’re not aberrations who’ve escaped the Stranger and his culling.”
Viserys goes still. “You speak of your neighbors, of your patient, with such disregard? You think to demean the northerners for not forgetting the humanity of their brothers?”
Bennard coughs, Viserys’ furious pheromones and acrid scent scald his lungs.
“Your Grace, the realm would fall apart if you continue down this path.” Bennard tries to appeal. “Omega men are touched by devils, by other worldly evil, they corrupt and make a mockery of women and their sacred duties.”
Viserys stills.
His eyes rake over Bennard’s face with cold scrutiny.
“It is true then.” Viserys whispers. “Ser (Y/n) Hightower is an omega.”
Bennard’s eyes widen. “Your Grace, I implore you—“
Viserys flips his knife, sharp end digging into Bennard’s throat, a thin line of blood already beading where the blade lies.
Bennard goes ice cold, the warmth from his neck trickling down.
He licks his lips. “You wouldn’t dare to harm a maester.”
Viserys raises an eyebrow. “You’re right in that regard, at least.”
He sheathes his knife, ignoring the breath of relief Bennard draws.
“Grand Maester Orwyle.” Viserys beckons.
Orwyle stands taller, taking a step closer.
“Bring me Prince Daemon.” Viserys’ voice seems to echo, almost absurdly loud in the quiet of the room.
Orwyle’s throat works, a bead of sweat at his temple. “At once, my king.”
Viserys walks over to his desk, grabbing the pitcher of wine.
He serves himself a cup, then fills another.
He walks over to Bennard both in hand.
Bennard looks down at the cup, then up to Viserys watching, as the king drinks from both.
“Poison is beneath me.” Viserys murmurs.
Bennard takes the wine, it sloshes just a bit from how hard he’s shaking.
“Your Grace, I beg you—“ Bennard stops cold when Viserys raises a hand.
“Enjoy the arbor red whilst you can.” He says pushing Bennard’s cup to his lips.
“I cannot allow you to return to Oldtown, or risk you informing Otto Hightower.” Viserys says pragmatically lips pressed into a line.
“Your Grace I swear to you—“
Bennard’s plea is cut off by Viserys’ laugh.
“Do not think to dishonor yourself further by continuing to lie.” Viserys says, unmoving. “You came in this very room, lying. You answered my question with a lie. Do not fall further.”
Bennard’s throat works.
His teeth chatter as the doors open.
“Your Grace.” Daemon says with a smirk.
“Prince Daemon.” Viserys greets. “Brother.”
Daemon’s face flickers slightly enough only Viserys notices.
“Brother.” Daemon answers. “How might I be of service to the crown?”
“This man here,” Viserys gestures towards Bennard, “has, in essence, committed treason by blatantly lying to his king.”
Viserys walks over to Daemon, standing next to him, his hand on Daemon’s shoulder.
“Ensure it does not happen again.” Viserys adds as he takes his leave.
“Worry not dear brother.” Daemon’s words are punctuated by the sound of his sword drawing. “I will do as needed.”
As the doors shut a scream is heard before it’s snuffed out entirely.
You swallow harshly as you walk to Viserys’ and Alicent’s chambers.
“Surely it’s nothing…” You tell yourself. “I am merely the best suited to protect them…”
You take note of the almost empty hallway.
A maid and servant here and there, but the knights are more sparse than usual.
“Where are the usual guards?” You wonder.
You stop in front of the doors, your hand trembling at your side as you lift it.
Three knocks ring out, almost as if echoing in the hall.
You hear movement behind the door.
Your eyes dilate as Viserys comes into focus.
His features seem softer when bathed in candlelight.
“(Y/—).” Viserys clears his throat.
You blink a little quicker.
His voice seems warmer.
Softer in a way.
“Ser (Y/n).” Viserys corrects.
You feel something in your chest clench.
“Right.” You think.
You ignore those thoughts.
It’s just the ramblings of a touch deprived omega.
It’s just your mind trying to find comfort and warmth in the one alpha, the one man, you shouldn’t.
“Your Grace.” You answer.
You try not to react as he opens the door wider.
“Please come in.” He murmurs, stepping out and looking down the halls.
“As you wish.” You say walking in.
You look around for Alicent but she’s absent.
Even her scent is but a faint whisper.
Maybe you should’ve have told her what you witnessed in Viserys’ meeting with Orwyle?
You can still picture the way her face cracked vividly.
“She’s not here.” Viserys says as the door gently shuts behind him. “I thought privacy might be best for what we’re to discuss.”
Your eyes widen.
Your jaw clenches tight, until you’ve wrangled the emotion.
“What do we have to discuss, my king?” You turn to face him.
Viserys eyes you.
His gaze warm, unhurried, like he’s drinking you in.
“The…marital issues she and I have been having.” He answers moving deeper into his chambers.
He pours two goblets of wine handing you one.
You instinctively reach for it, before remembering your position.
“I shouldn’t, Your Grace.” Your hand falls to your side. “Wine could cloud my mind, Seven above forbid anyone make an attempt on my sister or you.”
Viserys’ eyes narrow, a growl rising in his throat before he snuffs it out.
He shuts his eyes taking a breath. “Right, Ser (Y/n).”
He sets the second cup down.
He stares into the liquid in his, swirling it once, twice, before sinking the cup in full.
“As you’re aware Ser (Y/n),” Viserys looks to the ceiling, and further than that, perhaps to Aemma trying to find the courage needed. “Alicent and I have had issues…or rather I have.”
He faces you again. “My knot was not working. My fangs would not protrude. I could not do the very things an alpha could for Alicent.”
Your throat works. “But, if I may, Your Grace, that day you seemed to be…in full spirits.”
Viserys feels heat crossing his cheeks from ear to ear.
He looks down. “W—well yes. That day I was.”
He slowly brings his eyes up to yours. “That day however…I had someone else’s scent in my nose.”
You stiffen, the color draining from your face.
“Someone else’s scent in my lungs. Someone whose scent made my body react in ways that Alicent could only hope and pray.” Viserys adds softly.
You bristle at the implication. “Your Grace, my sister is your wife, your mate. She is trying.”
“The problem is not her fault.” Viserys corrects. “Rather…she is not to blame.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Then?”
“It is not her fault. But whatever ought to wake in me with her…simply does not.” Viserys adds.
“Whose scent then?” You press.
You keep trying to bury your anger.
You can’t tell if you’re angry he’s speaking about your sister like this, or that he’s setting his sights on another omega.
At least with Alicent as his wife you had proximity, even if you never had him.
Would his new mate allow this arrangement?
Most likely not.
“Yours.” Viserys says plainly.
You feel the room tilt.
Bile in the back of your throat.
Your nails dig into your palms.
You shakily laugh. “Your Grace, I’m not sure whose scent you had caught that day…but I assure you, it was not mine.”
“I am a beta, Your Grace, sure you recall?” You ask.
Even now the lie feels flat.
Flatter.
Even more flimsy with the way he’s staring at you.
As if he knows the truth.
As if he knows better now.
But he shouldn’t.
Your father made sure to bury it as best he could.
“Let us keep this as honest as possible, Ser (Y/n).” Viserys says softly.
A startled laugh leaves your mouth. “I am—“
The words die on your tongue.
The lie you’ve been telling for as long as you lived suddenly feels like lead.
“Be truthful with me, (Y/n).” Viserys whispers taking a step closer. “At least now while we’re alone.”
You breathily laugh.
Viserys’ begging— his plea lands deep.
Deeper still.
Your traitorous core tightening at his words.
You clear your throat. “I am.”
The words land like an iron weight in water.
Has it ever felt so feeble?
Telling anyone you were a beta?
“He isn’t just anyone…” You remind yourself.
“(Y/n), please.” Viserys says again.
You watch as his mouth opens, before his lips press into a thin line.
You can see the tension travel up his jaw.
“I’ve spoken with Maester Bennard.” Viserys reveals.
The air thickens.
It feels denser than honey.
You laugh, half formed words and gasps falling as you fail to explain.
“I—“ Another laugh breaks out of you. “Maester Bennard is almost a century old.”
Viserys’ jaw tightens. “Ser (Y/n).”
“I’ve spoken with him. He is not nearly as old as you claim.” Viserys’ voice is soft, warm still, low as if more hurt than upset, “Look into my eyes Ser (Y/n), and tell me plainly.”
Your gaze meets his.
“On your honor as a knight, as my Kingsguard, on your honor as your mother’s son, tell me the truth.” Viserys says.
You make a sad sound.
Less words than anything.
Your jaw clenches tight enough you can feel your teeth almost grind in protest.
You take off your helmet, setting it on the ground.
You unpin your white cloak, folding it delicately and placing it on the nearest table.
You slowly peel off your chest plate.
Viserys watches as you strip yourself down.
He watches as you peel two cloths from the sides of your neck.
“A poultice?” Viserys questions eyeing the greenish hued cream still wetting the cotton.
Viserys’ breathing hitches as that same scent he caught earlier comes into full focus again.
Honey left to cook and thicken under the golden rays.
Clean linen, lavender, and under it all the citrus note he’s been replaying in his head when he tried to consummate his marriage to Alicent.
“Maester Bennard did not lie.” You say so quietly Viserys strains to hear it. “The abhorrent thing they say I am…it is true.”
You don’t meet his eyes, you don’t think you could withstand the shame they surely carry.
“I am an omega…a blight upon my house…an unnatural occurrence the Seven have forgotten to correct.” You murmur. “And now a blight on house Targaryen and the reputation of the Kingsguard.”
Viserys says nothing each word landing in him like a dagger.
Before he can speak the words are cut up on his tongue as your sword draws.
“I have lied to you. I have allowed you to be lied to. My continued living is an insult to you, Your Grace.” You drop to one knee, and hold your sword up high. “Take my head.”
The words cut like Valyrian steel, and land just as heavy.
“Dispose of my body.” Your voice never shakes despite the tears pricking in the corner of your eyes. “Or, if it pleases you, allow me to be of service to the crown one last time, and use this wretched flesh of mine to sustain your dragons.”
Viserys breathes harder, eyes glossing over.
“I’ve heard old wives’ tales of how purifying dragonfire is…perhaps I could be made clean.” You muse aloud. “Perhaps in that manner the Seven might deign me fit to join my mother.”
You say nothing more, waiting to feel the sword in your hand lift.
Your breathing hitches when it finally does.
“Once my life is extinguished…will I be allowed to rest?” You wonder.
You lean forward hanging your head.
“No…most likely not. There is no recourse for what I am.” You remind yourself.
You wait for the split second of pain that comes before the end.
For the very instant steel cleaves through your flesh and your life concludes.
Your eyes flutter shut, you hold your breath, doing everything you can to die with honor.
You hear Viserys’ step circling you.
You don’t lift your head, you don’t open your eyes.
You assume he’s getting a better angle, until you feel your sword’s sheath leave your side.
“Rise, Ser (Y/n).” Viserys says, voice rough with emotion. “Do not insult me further by forfeiting your life.”
“But, Your Grace—“
“Do not insult me further.” Viserys cuts you off. “I have been driven mad by your scent, by you, I will not bury another love of mine, not while I can still save you.”
You look up at him, your eyes find his like muscle memory. “I cannot be saved, my king.”
“Yes, you can!” Viserys snarls.
His eyes widen when he sees you flinch and struggle not to cower away.
Viserys comes closer, dropping to one knee.
His hand comes to your shoulder, smoothing down the length of your arm.
His hand stops at yours, interlacing his fingers with yours.
“Yes, you can.” He says softer. “I have fought harder battles. I have fought harsher emotions.”
His other hand goes to your face.
“I have fought and lost,” he leans in closer, “but I will not lose you. Not like I did her.” Viserys whispers against your lips.
Before you can answer his lips press against yours.
Your eyes well with tears, before squeezing shut.
Your hands go to him to steady yourself before they jerk back.
“Hold me if you desire.” Viserys whispers, before kissing you again.
Your eyes open, before fluttering shut again, as your hands tentatively fist in Viserys’ overcoat.
It feels like you’re being torn in two directions.
Towards home, towards everything that says you’re wrong, that says your desire is an affront.
And towards Viserys.
Towards something new.
Something fiery.
Something softer than what you’ve known.
And gods above do you want to fall into him.
Fall into everything he offers.
You push Viserys back as Alicent’s face flashes across your mind.
You and Viserys both stare at each other, each uniquely undone by the other.
Both your chest and his rises and falls.
“You are married to Alicent.” You whisper.
Viserys looks down to the side. “I am. I will get the marriage annulled.”
You scoff. “And what of my father?”
“What of him?” Viserys asks.
“He would sooner kill me than allow for me to become your mate.” You say softly.
Viserys’ eyes darken. “He may well try, attempt to, and I will have his head.”
Your lip trembles. “All of that, risking an uprising in The Reach and the wrath of The High Septon…for me?”
Viserys scoffs, drawing closer again, his hand almost magnetically drawn to your cheek. “You say that as though you were a simple passing novelty.”
You lean into his hand despite yourself. “Am I not?”
Viserys laughs lowly. “You are not simple. You are the reason I can look towards Aemma’s portrait with my head held high. You are my love.”
Your eyes gloss over, you blink slowly trying to will the tears away.
Viserys drops to both knees right in front of you. “It’s alright, (Y/n).”
You bite your bottom lip as your eyes get more watery.
One of Viserys’ hands goes to the back of your neck, the other rubs a smooth circle into the middle of your back.
He pulls you even closer. “You may cry, (Y/n).”
You shake your head, sniffling.
“It’s just us, (Y/n). No one else.” Viserys assures you. “You may come apart if you need to.”
Your breathing hitches.
Tears stream down your face as you throw both arms around Viserys.
Broken sobs, sniffles, and half formed apologies all land in Viserys’ neck.
“My sweet boy, let it out.” Viserys whispers.
Your breathing slowly evens out.
“I’m sorry.” Your voice is hoarse.
“Don’t.” Viserys says immediately. “Not to me.”
You give him a soft smile. “If we are to do this,” you take a deep breath, “we will do it well.”
Viserys raises an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”
“I need to tell Rhaenyra.” You say gingerly. “I remember how distraught she was when your marriage to Alicent was announced…I refuse to be the second person to do that to her.”
Viserys doesn’t say anything, but he slowly nods.
“And you need to tell Alicent.” You add.
Viserys’ mouth opens and closes.
“You must.” You press. “Let her hear from your mouth she is not infertile, she is not lacking, let her hear from you directly that you two were misaligned. Do not let her walk away from this thinking she failed.”
Viserys’ eyes water, he seems pained, but underneath it is resolve. “Very well.”
You look Viserys in his face.
You half expect him to be lying.
But he isn’t.
“Very well, then.” You whisper. “Let me find the Princess.”
“Wait.” Viserys calls out.
You stop, turning to face him again.
“Do not let anyone see you without your armor just yet.” Viserys says, helping you get back into your chest plate. “We need to move quietly for the time being.” He pins your white cloak into place, and hands you your helmet.
“As you wish, Your Grace.” You bow.
“I do not recall insisting on formalities, (Y/n).” Viserys says with a small smile.
You feel that same flutter low in your stomach. “As you wish, Viserys.”
You let the door shut behind you, steeling your expression as you immediately walk towards Rhaenyra’s quarters.
A few moments later, when you’re down the hall, you hear Viserys’ doors open again.
You can tell he’s heading in the opposite direction, right towards Alicent.
You knock on the Princess’ door.
“It’s nearly the hour of the wolf.” You murmur.
Before you can turn around, you hear steps shuffling behind the door.
“Yes?” Rhaenyra says as she opens the door. “Oh—“ Her lips curl into a smile, “Ser (Y/n).”
You can’t help but smile at her too. “Hello Princess.”
She rolls her eyes.
She takes a step into the hall, looking down towards both ends making sure you’re both alone.
“You know good and well you don’t need to call me Princess if we’re alone.” She lovingly chides.
“I know.” You whisper. “Rhaenyra…may I— may I come in?”
Rhaenyra studies your face, her own getting more serious by the second. “Of course, (Y/n).”
She opens the door wider, letting you come in, before shutting the door.
“What troubles you?” She asks immediately. “And don’t be coy.”
You scoff, though it’s more a laugh than anything serious.
“Please, I know you (Y/n). You would not come to my chambers this late, were it not important.” Rhaenyra says.
You take a soft breath, your face nearly cracking.
You refuse to let it.
Refuse to force Rhaenyra into tending to you.
“I wanted you to hear it from me.” You whisper.
Rhaenyra sits down slowly, bracing herself. “Hear what?”
You take a deep breath. “As I’m sure you’ve heard, His Grace has had…trouble strengthening the royal line.”
Rhaenyra shudders making a face. “Unfortunately, I have.”
“As you know he and my sister have been experiencing…marital issues…scent incompatibility…Viser— rather His Grace’s knot woul—“
“I do not need specifics (Y/n)!” Rhaenyra blurts out.
When Rhaenyra notices you flinch, she takes a breath.
“That is enough.” She says softer. “I would rather my father’s…marital life remain a mystery to me.”
You nod softly, clenching your fists to calm your hands, to stop the shaking.
Rhaenyra’s confusion becomes more evident. “Why do you speak of this? How do you speak of this?”
“Why do you speak of this to me?” She asks exasperated.
You squeeze your eyes shut. “Because His Grace has learned it was due to incompatibility.”
Rhaenyra’s breathing gets heavier. “Incompatibility?”
She laughs bitterly. “That’s certainly one manner of articulating the bond between him and Alicent.”
“It is.” You murmur. “His Grace has also found the why.”
“I a—am an o—omega.” You reveal.
Rhaenyra’s eyes widen. “What does he plan to do?”
“As of now nothing.” You grit your teeth. “Because this conversation needs to happen first.”
She tilts her head. “And why does this conversation need to happen first?”
You shakily blow a puff of air. “Rhaenyra…I love him.”
Her eyes widen, she takes a step back.
“He— he loves me.” You press on.
She turns around, one hand clamped around her mouth, the other steadying her against her table.
“But Rhaenyra…” you take a step closer, one hand stretching out to her, before falling to your side, “you are my closest friend.”
Rhaenyra’s shoulders jerk up.
“I love and cherish you.” You continue. “And if you tell me this is against your wishes, I will listen.”
Rhaenyra’s hand falls, her breathing still quick.
“…what?” She manages to get out.
“I love Viserys, it is true, but I know what Alicent marrying him cost you.” You place a hand on her shoulder, “I will not make you pay that price again.”
“You speak truthfully?” She asks, turning to face you, eyes glossed and burning.
“For once, yes. Entirely.” You speak, giving her a small smile. “I am sorry for having lied and concealed my nature from you.”
“I do not need an apology, (Y/n).” She scoffs, her hands finding yours.
Her throat bobs. “Is…is Otto the one pulling the strings for this arrangement?”
You shake your head. “No. Vis— His Grace learned of my presentation from the maester my father enlisted to help hide it…he also is the one who said he would annul his marriage to— to my sister.”
You laugh bitterly looking down. “If…if my father knew…I would be gone before first light.”
Rhaenyra’s jaw clenches. “You’re asking me to decide if I will allow your happiness?”
You shake your head slowly. “No. I am asking if you would be comfortable. If you could bear with seeing me with His Grace. I would not make you responsible should you say no.”
You take a step closer, your hands going to hers. “If…if we would remain friends…or if we would also become strangers.”
Rhaenyra looks down, squeezing her eyes shut. “Do you truly desire this?”
“Yes.” You whisper. “But I do not desire it more than our continued friendship.“
Rhaenyra finally meets your eyes. “It will be an adjustment…but I will…I will bear it. I will try to welcome it.”
Your eyes flood instantly. “You swear it?”
Rhaenyra’s tears cascade down her face. “Yes. I know this was not easy for you to say, much less for me to hear, but I will honor it. And I will honor our friendship.”
You bite your lip, shaking, too overcome. “T—Thank you.”
She pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you.”
Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Thank you, for telling me. For refusing to allow me to learn of it during another council meeting.”
You laugh, broken and wet. “I would never dream of it.”
Rhaenyra laughs, tears burning her eyes as she makes peace, or tries to, with the new shape the court will take.
You pace wordlessly in Viserys’ chambers.
Each step measured to make no noise.
Each step against stone echoes into his room.
Each step has your hand jerking towards the hilt of your blade.
You exhale through the trembles.
“He doesn’t know. Not yet. Viserys wouldn’t…wouldn’t betray me…” You tell yourself.
Though it lands with little comfort.
You know alpha men.
Or thought you did at least.
Alpha men are capable of violence.
Alpha men who look at you like an oddity.
Like a forbidden fruit they know would not stain their fingers, but irredeemably mark you.
Alpha men who look at you like a body, a vessel to unload their desire into.
Alpha men who look at you like you’re disposable.
They’d seed you and then toss you to the wolves.
Crying claims of enchantment, of being led astray.
They would be allowed repentance by prayer.
Your repentance would be paid in blood, your head held aloft to the offended party and their family while your body still twitched and bled on the ground.
But Viserys has never looked at you like that.
He only has warmth in his eyes.
A desire, yes, but not to ruin.
A desire that is soft around the edges, carnal in its expression, but tender in the after.
You stiffen as the door opens, hand already wrapping around the hilt of your blade.
You take a deep breath, you didn’t even notice you had held it.
Viserys walks in.
His chest rises and falls, his eyes are red-rimmed.
“Ser—“, Viserys shakes his head, “(Y/n).” He says just as softly.
You sheath your sword, already moving towards him.
Your hand hesitates as it goes to his cheek.
Viserys’ hand guides yours the rest of the way.
“Is it done?” You ask before wincing. “Does she— does my sister know?”
Viserys’ lips quiver. “She does.”
He takes a staggering breath. “She knows. She knows she is not to blame. She knows we were incompatible.”
You look down, unable to meet Viserys’ eyes. “Does she know…?”
“She knows I mean to take you as my mate.” Viserys answers. “She seemed…conflicted…more preoccupied about ensuring Otto couldn’t harm you after.”
“Once I assured her he would be handled, her grief came.” Viserys adds.
Your breath gets caught in your throat. “I—I should go to her.”
Viserys’ hand catches yours, lacing his fingers with yours.
“That may not be for the best.” He says softly. “She…she wanted me to tell you she wanted to be alone for the time being.”
Your chest aches. “She doesn’t want to see me?”
Viserys shakes his head.
“Do not take it to heart.” Viserys’ thumb gently rubs the back of your hand. “She will need time before she can speak to you.”
Your face cracks, a pitiful sound coming out of you. “She hates me."
“No.” Viserys immediately says. “She is hurt. She is upset. Our issues aside, she was my lady wife…try to put yourself in her circumstances. It is not your fault I love you, it is not hers either, but I cannot imagine how wounded I would be if my spouse was leaving me for my sibling.”
You sniffle, leaning into Viserys’ hand as he wipes your tears.
“She will speak to you, when she is ready.” Viserys’ hand cups your cheek.
Your eyes widen. “I do not think my sister would be so cruel…but she wouldn’t tell our father would she? Did she seem upset enough?”
Viserys’ eyes dart to the side. “No, she would not. She’s upset, yes, but she would not risk your life, or her own.”
Viserys’ hand almost falls from your face, but you catch it, holding it close.
“I need to be honest…” Viserys’ voice is low, afraid, “before we are to start this.”
“About?” You gently probe.
“Your father.” Viserys answers.
Your blood runs cold.
A chill shooting down your spine.
“What about him?” You clear your throat.
“I left Otto Hightower to my brother Daemon.” Viserys whispers.
Your eyes widen.
You know exactly what he means.
Daemon’s dislike of Otto was no secret.
The Rogue Prince need only an excuse to carve up the second son, and he was handed one by the king no less.
“It’s fine.” Your voice breaks. “It was…it was going to be me or him regardless in the end…was it not?”
You draw in a broken breath, tears beading on your lash line. “I shouldn’t cry— he hated me— hated what I am— he could not love me as I was.”
Viserys steps closer pulling you into his embrace. “I am sorry, (Y/n). I knew I had to choose between your safety and him…and I chose you.”
“I understand—“ your breathing hitches, coming in incomplete pulls, “why do I feel like this?”
Viserys’ eyes find yours. “I do not know. I cannot pretend to know your mind, the contours of your soul— yet, but perhaps it is because he was your father still.”
The words soothe you, settling in somewhere deep.
You sob harder, louder, clinging to Viserys, hands fisted into the fabric of his shirt, as though you’d fall.
“Shh, let it out, (Y/n).” Viserys slowly helps you remove your armor, before moving the two of you to his bed.
“Viserys— I— I haven’t—“ The thought keeps breaking on another sob.
“I know sweetling.” Viserys whispers pressing his lips to your forehead. “Sleep here tonight, I will hold you through the worst of it. We can face the court and my council tomorrow.”
You nod against his chest, as he lays you onto his bed.
You keep swiping at your tears as the bed shifts and dips under Viserys’ weight.
Your sobbing doesn’t stop, only slows, even as Viserys pulls you close.
Before you realize your eyes flutter shut, as sleep takes you.
The next morning is hectic, at the very least.
Guards swarm the halls.
Whispers around every corner.
Only the tail ends of gossip reach you.
Some say assassinated, others say poor luck.
Otto has been found dead in his study.
Before anyone could question it in full, Viserys has the silent sisters take the corpse.
He loathed to leave you alone in his chambers, but he endures as is needed.
“Dress him up.” Viserys utters. “Hide the wound as best you’re able.”
Viserys doesn’t flinch as the silent sisters set Otto’s neck in place.
“Ready him for transport. His family will be waiting.” Viserys whispers as he leaves them to their work.
Viserys summons his council, a quick meeting, a mourning period declared for a fine servant to the crown.
“This morning, my Hand, and dear friend Lord Otto Hightower was found dead in his study.” Viserys says softly.
The council doesn’t speak.
They each look to each other, eyes telling a thousand words.
Daemon’s absence is notable, but none comment on it.
“I saw to it myself.” Viserys adds. “He appears to have fallen and hit his table.”
Viserys paces, hands behind his back. “His parchments were strewn about…a terrible accident to be sure.”
One of the residing lords coughs, but it suspiciously sounds like a held laugh.
Viserys stops dead in his tracks. “Is something amusing?”
The air in the council room chills.
“No, Your Grace.” The lord manages to get out.
Viserys hums. “Otto Hightower’s body is being tended to by the silent sisters. He will be taken by royal procession to Oldtown, where they may bury him.”
“If I may, Your Grace?” Orwyle whispers.
Viserys doesn’t answer but he makes eye contact.
“I could deliver the body myself.” Orwyle meekly says. “He was a dear friend of mine.”
Viserys nods, almost seeming to consider it. “No.”
Viserys draws closer. “You are the Grand Maester. You see to my health, to the health of my lady wife. You are needed here.”
“I am not so cold to forbid your goodbyes. When the time comes and the funeral is held, we shall both be in attendance.” Viserys accedes.
Viserys walks over to the windows that overlook Blackwater Bay, he takes a breath.
“There is another matter.” He starts. “Queen Alicent and I are…are incompatible.”
“We have been unable to fulfill the responsibilities of our marriage.” He reveals.
The residing lords look to Orwyle who can only nod as he stares at the table.
“As such, I am having our marriage annulled.” Viserys declares.
The council room quiets immediately, one could almost hear the mice within the walls scurry about.
“She is not to blame. Neither am I. We are merely…incompatible. As the gods have made us.” Viserys immediately adds.
“I am sending my daughter Rhaenyra, Princess of Dragonstone, and my dear cousin Princess Rhaenys, to ensure the matter is seen to directly by the High Septon.” He continues.
The present lords all immediately look to each other, calculating.
“And if, His Grace, may be so kind, would you elaborate on your next marriage choice? Or if one has been made at all?” One bravely asks.
They each wait, nearly salivating at the prospect of presenting their own daughters to the king.
“I have made a decision.” Viserys says strongly. “I will be taking Ser (Y/n) Hightower as my mate. He will be Prince Consort.”
The air shifts, the men barely hide their shock, some work harder to hide their disgust.
“Your Grace, I mean no offense, but, will you truly take to…to husband a male beta? He cannot give you heirs which is the sole purpose.” Lyman Beesbury comments.
Viserys doesn’t dignify that with a response. “Ser (Y/n) Hightower is an omega. Should we decide to have children or not, he can provide. My bedroom aside, the line is secure. Princess Rhaenyra has her sons Lucerys and Joffrey, and, Gods willing, more to come.”
“What of Ser (Y/n) Hightower’s vows?” Corlys finally speaks. “He is a knight of the Kingsguard. And a fine one at that.”
Viserys’ lips twitch at the recognition of your skill. “The white cloak was never his desire. If you all recall he did not ask the honor, his father did. He will be released from his vows with honor, by royal decree.”
“Be that as it may, Your Grace.” Lyonel starts, “it is rather unorthodox to…set aside your lady wife for a lord husband.”
Viserys turns to face his council. “Unorthodox means little and less. Aegon the Conqueror’s conquest, I imagine, seemed unorthodox at first, and now?”
Viserys stands taller as his words settle over the room.
“Do not forget who is king.” He stresses. “Do not forget who could climb atop a dragon and bring fire and blood.”
The color drains from their faces.
“That will be all.” Viserys says sternly as he leaves.
His council scramble to their feet as the doors open and shut behind him.
The days are long.
The moons even longer.
You can scarcely remember the last time you saw Alicent.
You can barely remember the brown hue of her eyes.
Rhaenyra and Rhaenys have already gone and returned from their excursion to The Reach.
You hoped for a heavier hand in diplomacy.
Both Princesses returned with the annulment and satisfaction on their faces that the High Septon bent the knee.
Whispers have already reached the Red Keep, more specifically your ears.
“The Realm’s Delight is a heretic! She accedes to the King’s perversion!”
“The Queen Who Never Was may be better than what awaits us.”
“I cannot believe you.” You whisper to Viserys.
“Believe me, boy.” He whispers, hand trailing up and down your back.
You slowly lift your head, thighs tensing around Viserys as you look him in his eyes.
You give Viserys a withering gaze. “You’ve threatened the high Septon.”
“I did no such thing.” Viserys says defensively. “I merely sent my daughter and my cousin to see the matter done.”
“Sent them atop their dragons.” You correct.
“Makes the journey easier. It is only a few hours on dragonback.” Viserys shrugs.
“That’s your defense?” You scoff with a smile.
“No.” He smirks. “This is.”
Before you can ask Viserys molds his lips against yours.
You gasp softly, eyes fluttering shut before you melt into his arms.
You let him kiss you breathless.
Your hips jerk against his, your cock leaking and leaving a wet patch in your sleep wear.
Viserys is no better, his own cock straining against your ass.
Viserys groans as he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. “Not yet sweetling.”
“Viserys.” You whine, hips still jerking forward like the friction is any good.
“It’s only one more day until we are wed.” Viserys reminds. “Then,” his eyes rake over you, “I’ll give you exactly what you’ve been begging for.”
His voice sends a spark up your spine.
You sigh softly, letting the heat and want ease and dilute itself.
You look away, eyes unfocused, as if you’ve been transported somewhere painful.
“Prince (Y/n)?” Viserys says gently.
You blink a few times, before finding Viserys’ eyes.
You laugh gently. “I worry I’ll never grow accustomed to that title.”
“What troubles you?” Viserys asks cutting through your deflection.
You sigh softly. “Has Alicent said if she’d be in attendance?”
Viserys’ eyes soften. “She hasn’t. But she may later.”
Your lip trembles. “Seven above.”
You swipe at your cheek.
“I know, (Y/n).” Viserys whispers. “I know.”
“I do not begrudge her.” You whisper. “I understand her position…as much as I am able.”
Viserys’ eyes soften. “I am aware, it is one of my favorite qualities about you.”
You lovingly scoff. “Viserys.”
“‘Tis true, my love.” Viserys whispers.
“I know.” You sigh.
Viserys’ hands go to your thigh, holding you close and tight.
“Viserys—!” You gasp arms going around his neck.
He stifles his laughter, rubbing his cheek against yours in apology. “We should rest. We’ve a long day tomorrow.”
He places you gently on the bed, lifting your legs up and taking your boots off.
“I suppose.” You whisper, getting underneath the blankets.
Viserys walks over to his side of the bed, letting his overcoat and tunic fall.
You smile warmly, lifting the blankets up for him to crawl in.
“Prince Consort (Y/n), of House Hightower.” Viserys says reverently as he slides under the blankets.
He pulls you close to his chest, watching your face, and feeling your chest rise and fall as you drift off.
The next morning feels like leaving a battlefield.
Dazed is one way to put it.
From the moment you awoke, you were dragged to a different section of the Red Keep.
Not taken.
Rather escorted.
All the servants scurry about ensuring you and your soon to be husband are well prepared and dressed.
They’ve taken your green and gold clothes, left them to the side as they help you into the black and red wedding garments.
“I—“ You huff with a smile, turning in the mirror to look at yourself. “Gods above.”
“You look well, My Lord.” A servant whispers, bowing quick.
“Thank you.” You whisper.
You walk over to the windows overlooking King’s Landing.
With the time that’s passed you can’t seem to care that Otto won’t be present.
Yet your attention keeps being drawn home— rather to The Reach.
To Oldtown.
Your teachers have likely heard of your betrothal.
Your brother Gwayne as well.
Your cousins, uncles, all have learned, you’re quite certain.
None of them will be in attendance.
To all of them, you may as well have died the day you were born.
It was thanks to your father’s harsh hand they acknowledged you at all.
Your sister sits somewhere in this very castle, and even she won’t be present.
The door opens, as you continue to stare out.
“Yes?” You ask softly.
The steps come closer, but the person they belong to doesn’t speak.
“May I help you?” You ask a bit firmer.
“Is that any way to speak to your sister?” Alicent scoffs.
Your eyes widen.
Your body is a blur of red and black as you whip around.
“Alicent?” You murmur softly.
She smiles softly, eyes scanning your face. “(Y/n).”
You approach her, stumbling over yourself, your eyes welling with tears.
You reach out to hug her, but stop just short of it.
Alicent laughs softly, stepping forward the rest of the way, right into your arms.
“Brother.” She whispers.
“My dear sister.” You answer.
You both slowly pull away, eyeing each other.
“I— I’m sorry.” You whisper. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Alicent’s eyes fill with tears.
She slowly shuts them, taking a shuddering breath.
“I know you are.” She admits. “That has made it much harder for me to simply hate you.”
You flinch at the words.
“I do not, though.” She continues, hand reaching for yours. “I could never hate you.”
You sob softly. “Y—you swear it?”
She smiles warmly. “I do.”
She sighs. “I…I know Viserys and I were incompatible…the days we…we attempted to do our duty as husband and wife…only worked on days I had seen you.”
Her eyes meet yours. “On days where your scent had clung a little tighter to me…Viserys found it in him to attempt to touch me.”
“I explained it away constantly, telling myself I was imagining it, or rather that His Grace was simply stressed.” She laughs, shaking her head. “I think I knew for longer than I’d like that there was someone else in our marriage.” She whispers.
“I just…I just didn’t expect it would be you.” She says brokenly.
“I do not begrudge you, brother.” She sniffles, the heel of her palm wiping away her tears. “I am more than aware if you had more choice in the matter you wouldn’t have chosen Viserys.”
You nod quickly. “I wouldn’t have…I love him, yes, but if I could choose I would not have chosen your husband.”
“I also realize Viserys likely had to confess his true feelings to you first, and then pry your feelings out of you.” She says with a lilt.
Your eyes widen, before they crinkle as you laugh. “That’s a rather astute observation.”
“It is a true one.” She chortles.
The laughter slowly quiets.
Her thumb lightly drags over your knuckles.
“Why did you not tell me about your…your condition?” She asks softly.
You tilt your head at her, mouth dropping open, before closing again.
“Rather—“ she drags her hand down her face, “not your condition, but that you felt this way towards…towards men, and not women.”
“Did you…did you think me untrustworthy? Did you assume I would tell our father?” She asks, voice cracking with ache.
You shake your head. “No Alicent. I have never thought you untrustworthy. Not once.”
“Then why?” She asks. “Why keep this part of yourself so tightly clutched and hidden?”
You look down. “Because…because I am an omega. Father hated me. Hated what I was. Everything he ever taught me, or showed me, was in direct opposition to that…Gwayne was allowed to do as he pleased…but I? I would be beaten…yelled at…humiliated by him.”
Your lips quiver. “I was already…wrong in Otto’s eyes. I could not bear to look at these hidden parts of myself too closely because of what it would mean for me…I could not accept it myself, until Viserys.”
A tear falls from the corner of Alicent’s eye.
“(Y/n)…” She says softly.
Your face scrunches up.
Your hands swipe at your tears.
“Do not— do not think me weak— I have tried for s-so long.” You sob.
Alicent hugs you again, tighter. “I’ve never once thought you weak. I only wish I had been stronger, more defiant with our father, such that you could’ve allowed me to grasp the full shape of you.”
“T-thank yo-you—“ You manage to get out.
“It’s quite alright.” Alicent whispers, hand rubbing a soothing circle into your back.
The two of you sit together, waiting for your cue to be escorted to the main hall.
“What have you been—“
A knock at the door interrupts your voice.
“Come in.” You say turning to the door.
“Your Grace.” The servant bows. “My lady.”
You both look to her expectantly.
“Ser Gwayne of house Hightower has come for the nuptials. He’s requesting a private audience.” She reveals. “Shall I escort him to the main hall?”
Your eyes widen, a disbelieving breath leaves you.
“Ser Gwayne came because of my wedding?” You ask.
“Yes, Your Grace.” The servant answers.
You look over to Alicent, a small smile on her face.
“Uh— yes. Yes, please bring Ser Gwayne Hightower here.” You answer.
“At once, Your Grace.” She bows before leaving.
“I can…I can scarcely believe it.” You whisper. “I had not expected to have anyone from the Reach at my wedding.”
Alicent puts her hand in yours. “I would’ve been present.”
You smile softly, holding her hand with both of yours. “I know. Deep down I think I knew you would be.”
You and Alicent sit as a pair of footsteps approach.
Another knock at the door makes you stiffen, before you force yourself to relax.
“Enter.” You project.
The door slowly opens.
The servant and Gwayne enter.
“Ser Gwayne of House Hightower.” She announces before bowing and taking her leave.
Gwayne’s jaw tightens as his eyes land on you.
“Prince Consort.” He says as though the words burn his tongue.
“Brother.” You say with a small smile. “I am gladdened to see you.”
Gwayne nods tersely. “I’m sure you are.”
“I can have the servants put a place for you at the main table.” You say excitedly. “You deserve to be up front with Alicent.”
Gwayne’s face quirks as though he’s tasted something bitter and sour.
“No need, (Y/n).” He says dismissively.
“You’d rather sit with the rest of the guests?” You tilt your head.
“No, I’m not staying for whatever perversion you and your mad king pretend to make commonplace.” Gwayne snaps.
Your mouth shuts.
You sit up straighter.
“I have not come because I wish to be a spectacle, I still have my honor and dignity, though it would seem you are lacking.” He adds.
Your breathing catches. “I am still your brother, Gwayne.”
He rolls his eyes. “And I pray to The Seven daily to atone. I care not for you, nor whatever it is you pretend at. I’ve come for Alicent.”
Your tears finally spill over, your constant blinking doing nothing to hold them back. “Ah.”
Your throat works. “O-of course.”
Your gaze falls to the ground. “I-I’ll take my leave.”
“Brother—“ Alicent reaches for you, but stops when she sees you shake your head.
“He’s your brother too.” Your face cracks. “See to whatever it is he needs.”
Her hand falls to her side.
They clench into fists as she watches the heel of your palms drag across your cheeks.
“Your Grace, what ails you? You’re crying?” The same servant’s voice asks.
“I-I’m fine. I just need some fresh air.” You manage to get out.
The words echo into the room as the doors close behind you.
“I thought father had corrected that.” Gwayne scoffs. “He always did need a firmer hand to remind him appropriate conduct.”
Alicent’s eyes widen, her fury becoming more obvious by the second
“How dare you?” Alicent snarls.
“Hmm?” Gwayne turns to her, rolling his eyes. “Please my queen, he’s taken his leave, there is no need to pretend this hasn’t been absolutely humiliating for you. It’s humiliating enough for our House.”
“Humiliating?” Alicent scoffs.
“What else would you call this?” Gwayne stalks closer to her, hand gesturing to the castle at large. “This is not dignified.”
“It is honorable!” She snaps.
“Whatever lies you’ve been telling yourself to better survive this, ends now. Gather your things, we’re leaving.” Gwayne seethes.
“I am not leaving.” Alicent says defiantly. “This is my home. I am an honored guest of the crown, and the Prince Consort’s sister.”
Gwayne walks over, standing mere inches away from Alicent, lording over her. “I did not ask if it was agreeable, as the oldest, I am in charge of our family.”
He leans down, face close enough Alicent recoils from the warmth of his breath. “Get your things. We’re leaving.”
“I am not leaving!” Alicent shouts, slapping Gwayne hard enough his head jerks to the side.
“I am Alicent of House Hightower, and I will not leave the only home I’ve known for the last few years.” She snarls.
“I will not abandon my brother the same way you, father, and our own home have.” She adds.
The doors slam against the wall as guards rush in.
“My lady, are you hurt?” They ask, swords drawn and already aimed at Gwayne.
“No.” She says sternly. “I am unharmed, however it would seem Ser Gwayne has overstayed his visit, and needs help finding the stable.”
“I am not leaving—“
“You are.” Alicent cuts him off. “You are leaving as you’ve come, empty handed.”
She turns to the guards. “See him off at the castle gate. And if he forgets, remind him his wedding invitation has been rescinded, and as His Grace has no business with House Hightower, Ser Gwayne has no business being here.”
“Alicent—“ Gwayne starts again.
“You heard my lady.” The guard interjects. “Don’t be difficult.”
“Or do.” The other says. “I have been idle for too long.”
“I would say to have a safe journey, but I care little and less for you.” Alicent states plainly. “Do not think to return. If you care not for (Y/n), you care not for me. If he is not your brother, I am not your sister. Do not think to return.”
Alicent’s steps echo in Gwayne’s head.
“Alicent.” He snarls.
Her stride doesn’t stop.
“Alicent!” He shouts.
She doesn’t even flinch as she turns down the hall.
His voice fades into the background as Alicent heads to the main hall.
Alicent finds you in the solar.
She stops a few paces away, watching as the servant takes the wet handkerchief from your hand.
“Your Grace.” A servant says finally noticing Alicent.
“It’s quite alright.” She says softly.
“(Y/n).” She calls out.
Her heart aches as your shoulders jump, before watching you force them down.
“Sister.” You say guarded. “Have you come to say goodbye?”
Alicent takes a step closer. “I am not leaving. I am your honored guest.”
She takes another step her hand going to your back. “It is your wedding, I would not miss it for anything.”
You turn around eyes still wet. “If you don’t leave Gwayne will not return. You will never be welcomed back in Oldtown.”
“I know.” Alicent whispers.
“Do not lose your home for someone like me.” You manage to get out. “Gwayne is—“ your breathing hitches, “he’s right.”
“No.” Alicent says sternly. “This is my home.”
“Gwayne has made himself nothing to me.” She adds.
“He is your brother.” You correct. “Even if he wishes I wasn’t.”
“No.” Alicent says again, her hand going to yours. “If he does not care for you, he does not care for me. If he does not recognize you as blood, I do not recognize him.”
Your face crumples harder. “Alicent—“
“I am staying. I will be seated in front. I will watch with tears in my eyes as you marry the man you love.” She warmly cuts you off.
“What if you regret it?” You whisper.
“I would regret more hurting you. I would regret more allowing you to believe you have no family left in the world that would love and welcome you as you are.” She answers.
You sob harder, throwing your arms around her.
“There, there, dear brother.” She whispers, rubbing her cheek against yours.
“Cry all you’d like.” She whispers. “I will not forbid it, all I ask is for you to consider if Gwayne deserves them.”
Your head lifts, your eyes finding hers.
Her thumbs gently wipe underneath your eyes. “You are marrying Viserys. if you are to cry, let it be from joy, not from anguish.”
You sniffle, rubbing your eyes, dabbing your tears away with the sleeves of your garments.
The wedding itself is a smear in your memory.
You still remember the weight of Alicent’s arm laced with yours.
You still remember each step you took forward.
The wetness of Rhaenyra’s eyes.
The curve of her smile.
You can still hear the roar of the room, before it fell silent.
The red and black still sat comfortably on you.
You remember Viserys’ eyes focusing on you, as if the rest of the world had fallen away.
You remember the vows Viserys had spoken.
They reminded you of your Kingsguard vows, but these were chosen, not imposed.
You remember the hall, full of courtiers.
The reception, the decorations, the way the goblets raised in the air.
You still remember the weight of Viserys’ hand on your hip, as he led you through a dance.
You can still feel the shudder that tore through you when he said “My Prince.”
But now?
With Viserys’ mouth at your throat, and his hand under your tunic gripping at your chest, you can’t bring yourself to care.
“Vis-Viserys—“ You brokenly moan.
“I know.” He rasps. “I know.”
Viserys’ hands go to your thighs, your arms lace around his neck as he pulls you up.
“Mmph.” You groan, hand going to Viserys’ hair.
He places you on the bed, his palm flattening against your chest as he pushes you down.
“Marvelous.” Viserys whispers, undoing your tunic and pushing the fabric to the side.
You feel heat crawl up your face. “Viserys.”
“Shh.” He whispers leaning down, mouth at your throat again. “Let me enjoy this.”
Each kiss down the side of your throat stokes fire in your gut.
Each scrape of Viserys’ fangs against your flesh and scent gland make your cock throb.
Viserys hugs your legs to his body, as his hands go to your waistband.
You bite your bottom lip, nodding and lifting your hips.
Viserys pulls your trousers off, letting them crumple to the floor.
Viserys moves lower on the bed, kissing your abdomen.
Viserys hesitates for only a moment when he reaches your underwear.
You look down, making eye contact with him.
You look away, back up to the ceiling. “I— I—uhm know you have only been with Aemma. Do not force yourself—“
Your words break apart into a whorish moan as Viserys mouths at your cock, wetting the fabric.
“I am not forcing myself.” Viserys says, before pulling your underwear down with his teeth. “I am merely…recalibrating.”
A shocked laugh leaves you. “Recalibrating?”
Viserys pulls your underwear off entirely, tossing them into some corner of the room. “Yes.”
His hand wraps around the base of your cock, as he lowers himself again. “Forgive me, I am not experienced.”
“Neither am I.” You answer.
Viserys smiles softly, before his mouth wraps around your head.
“Fuck—“ You moan brokenly, hand in Viserys’ hair.
Gripping tight.
Tighter when Viserys moans around your length.
Your breath stutters as Viserys slowly begins to move his head up and down the length of your cock.
“Gods Viserys—“ You sob, spreading your legs further.
Viserys pulls off your cock, before bringing his free hand to his mouth.
You whine softly, hips jerking forward.
“Shh, greedy thing.” Viserys chuckles. “I need to prepare you.”
He brings his fingers to his mouth, wetting them.
Viserys’ head goes back to your cock, lapping and kissing the tip, before taking you down his throat again.
His fingers move down to your rim, gently circling, spreading and smearing your slick and his saliva.
Viserys buries his nose in your pubic hair, as his fingers push inside you.
He gets to the second knuckle before slowing, his other hand going to your thigh to rub soothing circles into your flesh.
“Ngh— Vis— Oh Gods!~ D—Don’t stop!” You sob, back arching off the bed.
The moment your insides relax Viserys pushes his fingers all the way in.
“Ngh—“ You throw your head back, hand fisting in the bedsheets.
Viserys’ hips subtly jerk forward and grind against the mattress as each sound he milks from you makes his cock harder and his tip stickier.
Viserys’ fingers pump back and forth before curling ever so slightly.
“Ah!” You gasp loudly, hole clenching tightly around his fingers.
“Dush ‘hat ‘urt?” Viserys asks, mouth still full of you.
“No— Gods no. There, again, please.” You beg, hips pushing back against Viserys’ hand.
Viserys lets your cock fall out of his mouth with a wet pop. “Good omega.” He coos.
“Viserys…” You whine, spreading your legs farther. “I need you.”
“Patience.” Viserys manages to say. “I am trying very hard to not disgrace myself.”
“I wouldn’t mind—terribly— if you did.” You murmur, looking away unable to meet his eyes.
Viserys’ pupils dilate, his nostrils flare.
“You are playing with dragonfire.” Viserys growls. “You haven’t the slightest clue what you’re doing to me.”
You lick your lips, staring into Viserys’ eyes. “Then why don’t you show me, Your Grace?”
Viserys’ breath hitches. “Very well then.”
Viserys wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
He grips the waistband of his trousers, pushing them down letting them bunch up by his ankles.
You watch completely entranced by the bulge and obvious wet spot.
His underwear follows, his cock pulls down, before springing up, bobbing, before settling flush against his stomach.
He shudders with anticipation as the cold air hits his aching cock.
The tip sticky with precum, his member twitching at the sight of you spread out underneath him.
Viserys’ hand drags against your rim, gathering your slick.
He strokes himself until he’s wet—wetter than before to make sure the push in is easy.
Viserys gets closer, his hands move your legs to rest around his hips.
You gasp softly, chest rising and falling, as the blunt head rests at your rim.
“Viserys…you're rather large.” You murmur, back slightly arching off the bed.
“I am an alpha.” Viserys responds smugly.
You both laugh softly.
Viserys’ eyes soften. “Fret not, I am no beast, I will go as slow and as gently as you require.”
You bite your bottom lip, nodding eagerly.
Viserys’ hand wraps around his cock, he slaps it against yours, breathing heavier as your thighs twitch, and your cock throbs.
He angles the head of cock to your stretched hole. “Deep breath.”
You inhale.
“Ngh— mmmmfuck—“ You moan softly, tears sitting on your lash line as Viserys’ blunt head stretches you open.
“Gods—you’re tight.” Viserys groans pushing inch after inch into your warmth.
“Vis—“ You gasp clenching tightly around what he’s worked in so far.
“B—Breathe.” Viserys stutters out.
“I— I am trying.” You whimper.
Viserys’ expression softens.
One of his hands moves up and down your side slowly, while the other wraps around your cock.
“Ah—“ You mewl, as Viserys’ calloused hand works your aching cock.
He leans down, letting your arms go around his neck.
Viserys molds his lips against yours, swallowing every needy sound you make.
“Mmpfh—“ You groan.
The moment your mouth opens Viserys slides his tongue in.
The wet muscle gently caressing your tongue, reverently stroking against every part of you.
Viserys keeps his eyes open, even as yours shut.
He takes in every detail.
The tears slowly beading and falling, the sweat on your brow, the way your brows furrow when he throbs inside you.
The moment he feels your grip loosen, he pulls back, before pushing forward again.
“Ngh—“ You sob from pleasure.
“Gods—“ Viserys grunts.
He’s losing his mind.
Viserys’ hand never stops working your cock, but his other hand gently grips your ankle and pushes one of your legs further back.
Viserys groans loudly as he watches your hand fist in the sheets.
“Forgive me.” He murmurs against your lips.
Before you can ask for what, you gasp loudly.
Viserys’ hips pull back, before he thrusts all the way in.
“Fuhck—!” You brokenly moan, cock pulsing in Viserys’ hand as your spend shoots out, coating his fingers in your essence.
Viserys moans just as wrecked, as your finger nails rake down his back.
“Good boy.” Viserys breathily says, hand still working you through the remnants of your orgasm.
Viserys tries to lift off of you, but stops as your arms lock tighter and as your legs wrap around his hips.
“Gods, you will be the death of me.” Viserys huffs a broken laugh.
“You—you’re so deep.” You manage to get out.
Viserys’ pupils dilate. “I know.”
“Viserys—Viserys—move—“ You whimper, hand softly smacking against Viserys’ pec.
He doesn’t hesitate.
At once his hips pull back before falling forward again.
He takes in each of your breathy moans.
He grinds deeper when your breathing hitches.
He pushes back in with more weight when he feels your hips lift.
He fucks you faster when the heels of your feet press against his ass.
“Fuck— fuck— fuck—“ You sob, breaths getting faster and shorter.
Viserys buries his face in your neck, dragging his tongue against your scent gland.
He drags his fangs against your scent gland, relishing how you tighten up in response.
He leaves open-mouthed kisses all over the column of your neck.
“You’re doing so well for me.” His lips press against your pulse point. “Coming undone so wonderfully for me.”
You whine, clenching harder around his cock.
“Fuck—“ Viserys groans.
“Viserys— harder—! Harder!” You sob, hands fisting into the sheets.
Your alpha, your husband immediately starts thrusting in earnest.
Each push in feels heavier than the last.
Every filthy sound gets louder.
Viserys’ breath keeps breaking.
His hips stutter.
He can’t help but grind deeper in between thrusts.
Almost like he has to, or he’ll reach his orgasm too fast.
“Ngh— ah! Fuck—“ You sob, walls clutching and squeezing Viserys’ cock harder, as your own throbs and paints your abdomen in white.
“Gods— that’s it sweetling.” Viserys murmurs, kissing the tears under your eyes as he continues to grind and lazily thrust into you.
He hisses as he feels resistance.
Viserys looks down, breathily laughing as he sees why he can’t grind as deep as he could mere moments ago.
“Gods— (Y/n)…allow me to knot you.” Viserys begs, still grinding as deep as he can, his knot stretching you just a bit before he pulls back.
“Yes— yes, please Viserys.” You whine.
“Seven above, I love you.” Viserys whispers.
He slowly pulls out, shushing your whining, before he puts you on your knees.
His palm settles between your shoulder blades as he pushes until your chest is pressed against the bed.
“Just like that, (Y/n).” Viserys groans.
One of his hands gently squeezes his own knot, while the other spreads your cheeks.
“Viserys…” You bemoan, heat crawling up your face.
“I am admiring my work.” Viserys drawls.
“You should instead finish the task.” You answer.
Before Viserys can say something clever, the words die on his tongue as you arch deeper.
“Never again call this a task.” Viserys sternly says as he comes closer.
“This is far too enjoyable to be a task.” He adds, slapping his cock against your rim.
You make a broken sound, hole clenching at the contact.
Viserys doesn’t hesitate any further, he lines up before slamming in all at once.
“Ah—!” You moan whorishly, body moving up the mattress as Viserys thrusts harder and harder.
“Too— deep—“ You sob arching deeper.
“And yet you open yourself up.” Viserys cockily says.
His hand goes to the back of your neck holding you in place as his knot starts to spread you further.
“Take it.” Viserys rasps. “Do not run from your alpha. Do not run from the fire you’ve awoken.”
You sob, getting pushed higher and higher as Viserys’ knot sinks in deeper and deeper.
Viserys nearly roars as his knot sinks in.
He falls over you, catching himself but pinning you under him.
His mouth finds your scent gland.
Viserys’ hips keep jerking forward with each new squeeze around the base of him.
“Gods—“ Viserys groans as his spend paints your insides white. “(Y/n)—“
His fangs finally protrude.
Viserys drags his tongue across your scent gland one last time before he bites down hard.
“Ah—!” You cry out, every nerve alight with pleasure, your own orgasm washing over you again.
Viserys’ hips keep jerking and grinding his knot even deeper.
“Vis— Viserys—“ Your voice breaks into wanton moans.
“I know.” Viserys says muffled, spit leaking out around his lips. “Almost.”
Viserys’ fangs sink deeper, his hips slow as each pulse of his cock and knot gets slower and weaker.
When the instinct to fuck his cum deeper is finally sated, he slowly pulls back, kissing the new claim mark adorning your neck.
“You did so well.” Viserys murmurs kissing your shoulder.
You hum, it lands as satisfied and as a question.
“You absolutely did.” Viserys assures you.
He gently moves you both so you’re laying on your sides.
Viserys buries his nose in your hair and takes a deep breath.
You nod sleepily, melting into Viserys’ embrace.
The heat of him behind you.
The feel of his chest rising and falling against your back.
“Gods— (Y/n)—“ Viserys groans as your body clenches and clutches around him.
Your face scrunches in pleasure as the aftershocks still rip through you.
“There, there.” Viserys whispers, thumb gently caressing your thigh. “Breathe through it.”
“Vis— it’s— it’s a lot.” You stutter.
“I know.” He kisses your shoulder. “I’m here, I’ll hold you through it.”
His hands travel down the contours of your body, one settling on your abdomen, the other on your thigh.
One just holding, while the other rubs soothing circles into the gooseflesh of your leg.
You hum contentedly, melting further against Viserys.
He hisses sharply, when you whine softly, as his knot sinks in just a touch deeper.
“How—“ Your throat works, “how long before it settles?”
Viserys makes a sound like he’s going to answer before stopping.
“Viserys?” You ask.
“In truth…I do not recall.” He admits sheepishly. “It’s been…some time since I’ve last knotted…I cannot recall.”
You snort, before clearing your throat. “That is…not an issue. It is our wedding night.”
Viserys presses his lips to his claim mark on your neck. “We’ve the rest of our life to learn.”
You smile softly, bringing his hand up to your mouth.
You kiss the back of his hand. “We do.”
Viserys’ chest rumbles, the soft deep crooning burrowing its way into your chest.
You settle even further against him, your own chest answering in a constant gentle purr.
You fall asleep first, Viserys watching, his eyes soft.
The moment he feels his knot soften, he pulls out as gently as he can manage so as not to disturb your sleep.
Once he’s freed, he slowly turns you around, pulling you close to his chest.
His heart cracks wide open as your brow furrows before relaxing once his scent blooms.
“Goodnight, my Prince.” Viserys whispers, kissing you one last time before sleep takes him.
The years that follow are surprisingly kind.
Each day you felt your breath loosen quicker.
Your body tensed with less intensity, until it stopped altogether.
Viserys, as your husband, as your alpha, was everything you could’ve ever wanted.
Everything you needed.
As King?
He was loath to allow insults to you.
Viserys was known for his temperament, for his steady hand, his judicious nature.
When matters concerned you, he reminded everyone he was still Viserys Targaryen.
Though his dragon had long passed, he could still bring fire and blood when needed.
Lords and ladies alike learned the rhythm.
Learned that insults to you, were insults to the Crown.
And insults to the Crown were answered with the full weight of the Seven Kingdoms.
In the moons after your wedding, you noticed the swell in your lower abdomen.
You thought perhaps you had been lacking in training.
It was some time you had gone without picking up a sword.
As the Prince Consort you carried a blade, but the farthest you’ve ever gone to using it is resting your hand on the pommel.
Though you were once a knight of the Kingsguard, you had a sworn shield, someone who would give their life for yours if need be.
Regardless, when you did enter the training yard and put your nose to the grindstone once more the swelling did not go away.
As the moon continued to turn the swell grew larger.
The moment you refused meals you loved, Viserys assumed.
The moment your feet and ankles turned swollen, he had evidence.
The moment your hand started drifting to your abdomen, Viserys knew.
In true fashion he put together a celebration.
He had learned— grew from his prior mistakes.
He did not call it the Heir’s Tournament as he once did with his late son.
“The Crown’s Joy” was the name he settled on.
There was food, music, merriment, a tournament in true royal fashion to celebrate.
When you did finally go into labor he was present.
“If the babe is stuck, save my mate.” He commanded at once.
The air about him spoke to his dedication.
His posture sharp enough, as if to say “question my decision, and it will be the last time you have use of your tongue.”
The long hours in labor bore fruit when the sounds of a crying babe filled the chamber.
Viserys could hardly contain his joy, but he turned pale as ash when he noticed you were sluggish.
He nearly tore his own throat screaming at the maesters to save you.
He only calmed once the maesters assured him, with their own lives, you were well, just tired.
When you awoke, and you held your babe while he nursed, you looked to Viserys with tears in your eyes.
“Aegon. Aegon Targaryen.” You whispered.
“A name fit for a Prince.” Viserys laughed through his tears.
“I’m glad you think so too.” You smiled.
Through the years your brood grew.
A daughter just two years later.
Aegon toddled over, big violet eyes, thumb in his mouth.
“Sweetling, look. This is your sister Helaena Targaryen.” You whispered, showing your oldest son his sister.
“A beautiful name for a beautiful babe.” Viserys sighed contentedly.
Another son came three years after Helaena did.
“Another strong boy, Your Grace.” The maester whispered.
“Gods we make such beautiful children.” You spoke softly.
“We do, don’t we my love?” Viserys answered pressing his lips to your forehead.
“Where’s my brother?” Aegon asked storming into the room.
“Aegon.” Viserys said sternly. “Lower your voice, your father needs his rest.”
Aegon lowered his head. “I’m sorry sire, I’m sorry father.”
“It’s quite alright. You’re excited aren’t you? Come here little one, meet Aemond.” You called him over.
“Where’s Helaena?” You sleepily asked.
“She’s in the garden with ‘Nyra and Aunt Alicent.” Aegon chirped. “She’s playing with bugs.”
“Is she?” Viserys put his hand on Aegon’s back.
Aegon hummed, nodding.
Aegon made a face. “He looks weird.”
“Aegon.” You chortled. “He just came into the world, he’s adjusting.”
“Helaena looked prettier.” Aegon muttered.
“You’re only saying that because she’s your favorite sister.” Viserys chuckled.
“S’not true!” Aegon said, face turning red.
You laughed softly, hand cupping Aegon’s cheek. “No shouting sweetling, your brother and I need the rest.”
Aegon shrank immediately, his bottom lip trembled. “I’m sorry father.”
Your face softened when you saw the tears collecting on his lash line. “Shhh, none of that. Excitement is not a crime to apologize for, you need only be a little more careful.”
Aegon’s hand went to yours, his chest producing the tiniest rumble he could, as he nuzzled into your palm.
Life was a dream.
One you had long stopped fearing you’d wake from.
“Gods, Rhaenyra I do not know how you’ve managed.” You chuckle. “He looks just like Daemon.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” Rhaenyra says softly, hiking her baby higher.
“With a name just as fearsome to match.” Alicent adds with a smile.
You nod excitedly. “Aerion. A fitting name truly.”
“Please, you honor me and my son, Your Grace.” Rhaenyra teases.
You gag audibly. “Do not start, Princess of Dragonstone.”
Rhaenyra’s face scrunches up. “Titles do not suit us.”
“No.” You laugh gingerly. “They don’t.”
Out of the corner of your eye you notice Lucerys take a tumble.
“Gentle, Egg.” You project.
“I know father!” He calls out, lending Lucerys a hand. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, let’s keep playing.” Lucerys responds, immediately chasing after Aegon and Helaena.
Aemond babbles in your arms.
“Are you hungry sweetling?” You ask gently, rocking him. “You don’t smell as if you’ve soiled yourself.”
“Perhaps he’d like to play.” Alicent suggests.
“He’s still too young, and Aegon can be a little rougher than wanted when excited.” You say with a smile and zero reproach.
“I can play with Aemond, father.” Helaena says, standing up from the patch of garden she’d been diligently observing.
“Are you sure?” You ask.
“Mmhm.” Helaena nods.
“Very well.” You gently place Aemond down by her side.
“Follow me little brother.” Helaena giggles taking slow steps as Aemond toddles behind trying to keep pace.
You all watch as Helaena leads her younger brother off on some adventure through the garden.
“Do you have plans for the next one, brother?” Alicent asks softly.
“In truth,” you hesitate, “I believe I am thoroughly spent.”
Rhaenyra and Alicent both soften.
“I love them.” A smile stretches across your face as you look to Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond. “It is…an enjoyable arduous task raising three energetic babes…but I suppose I would not object to one more.”
You look over to Alicent, placing a hand on hers. “And you, sister?”
“Yes, please regale us with tales of your Dornish lover, Ser Criston.” Rhaenyra supplies.
“Lower your voices.” Alicent says scandalized.
She looks around, before leaning in. “We’ve…been trying.”
Her face flushes bright red. “I must say the…marital affairs have been much more enjoyable than when I was with—“
Her eyes widen before darting over to you.
“Viserys…no offense is meant.” She finishes.
“I take none dear sister, I imagine a proper knotting has done the body well.” You lovingly poke.
“(Y—Y/n)!” She nearly squeals.
“Enough about the goings-on of my chambers.” Alicent says, eyes shut, before turning to Rhaenyra. “Rhaenyra, what of you and Daemon?”
Rhaenyra looks away, smile tugging at her lips. “It is too early to be sure…but I believe we’re expecting.”
You and Alicent gasp.
“Congratulations.” You both say fondly.
“Thank you.” She sighs contentedly. “In truth, I enjoy motherhood sufficiently that I relish the opportunity to bring another babe into the world.”
You and Alicent nod in understanding.
“It is an honor, is it not?” You ask. “To be blessed so thoroughly by the Mother Above.”
“Truly.” Rhaenyra says immediately.
“Well, this is a nice surprise.” Viserys’ voice projects, his footsteps getting louder as he heads towards the garden.
“My sweet daughter.” Viserys kisses the crown of her head.
“Father.” Rhaenyra responds with a smile.
“Alicent.” Viserys gives her a warm nod.
“Viserys.” Alicent says warmly.
“My sweetling.” Viserys presses his lips to your cheek.
“My love.” You answer kissing him back on his lips.
Viserys laughs against your lips, kissing you again, before settling next to you.
“Allyieri.” Viserys says.
A servant draws closer. “Yes, Your Grace?” She bows.
“Take a few other servants with you, and prepare lunch. We’ll be eating out here.” Viserys requests.
“At once, Your Grace.” Allyieri says, bowing once more before turning and leaving.
“Have you eaten already, love?” Viserys asks turning towards you.
Though time has not slowed, and Viserys is older already, there’s still something steady about him.
He has his health, he stands tall in his power, but he is still recognizably yours, despite it all.
“Yes, you made sure of that during breakfast.” You lovingly poke, leaning into his side.
“One cannot fault an alpha for wanting his mate strong and healthy.” Viserys defends himself.
“I cannot argue with that.” You chuckle.
“You could argue with a wall.” Alicent mumbles under her breath.
“Then I refuse to argue with that.” You correct, laughing in earnest.
“That is much more believable.” Rhaenyra snorts.
“You as well?” You turn to her, smile stretched wider.
Rhaenyra laughs harder, despite your attempts to stay scandalized you laugh with her.
As the servants return setting the table, and plates down, neither you nor Viserys could be any happier.
Chapter Synopsis: The relationship between you and your two brothers worsens, inadvertently leading to a surprise you weren’t expecting to see. Meanwhile, a close friend of Satoru at work hears of his newly found love and reaches out to someone that will help him end the competition. How will the future of these events shape up?
Word Count: ~2.2K
Content Warning: A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Satoru Gojo x Powerbottom!Omega!Black!Male Reader, Strangers to Lovers, Angst, Major Character Injury, Yuji x Megumi mentions, Satoru is the head of an illegal arms dealing family, male reader is a botanist, both are dominant variants, Smut (MDNI), Mpreg. Hopefully that’s all. Lmk what I missed!
Notes from Aeternum: Long time no see! What was supposed to be a 1-ish month mental reset turned into a hiatus. Lots happened, some good, a lot bad, but im here, alive, and getting better. Please please please go seek help if you need it. It is never too late. I didn't believe it, but that doesn't mean that it wasn't true. I'll leave it at that. Anyways, felt a little washed up writing this but hope you all still enjoy it nonetheless. Enjoy!
Chapter 3... Chapter 4 (Here)... Chapter 5
Dividers by @cafekitsune. Please go show some support!
Walking back into the estate that lingers with the scent of you now, he makes his way back to his bedroom.
Pausing at the bed, now crowned with a nest made by you, his eyes ghost over the evidence of his and your arousal.
Satoru glances at the clock, then back to the nest.
Work can wait.
He climbs into the bed, careful not to knock over your handiwork, positioning his head right next to a large damp patch of your slick. Eyes fluttering, he noses at the wet area, letting the concentrated scent of sweet cream and matcha fill his olfactory.
A guttural groan spills from his lips, pink tongue darting out to taste the remnants of your essence. His cock throbs in the gray sweats, tenting the garments.
Reaching down with one hand, Satoru palms himself through the pants, pressing his face further into your slick. He can feel his canines popping, nipping at the fabric like it’ll get him closer to you.
The hand that was busy teasing himself through his sweats slides up before dipping beneath his waistband, fingers spreading the pre that had been pearling at the tip around the head of his cock before working down the rest of the length.
Wet shlicks and grunts echo around the bedroom as Satoru loses himself to the scent of you again. Images of you above him, hands wrapped around his throat as you ride him into oblivion flash through his mind, bringing him stumbling to the edge.
The sheets are all the way in his mouth now, mouth aggressively sucking the essence out of the fabric like it’s indebted to him. His hips stutter, precum spilling like a waterfall now, but it's not enough. It’s not you.
Whining helplessly, he grabs blindly at his pockets, feeling for his phone. Unlocking it, he calls you, putting the phone on speaker next to him.
On the second ring, you pick up. “Satoru? Baby, what's wrong?” Your voice comes through, and he almost cries.
“So- hng-! so close- ah!” Satoru cries out through the fabric in his mouth.
Your ebony cheeks burn, and you glance up at Ijichi to see if he heard Satoru’s pleas. Thankfully, it doesn't seem so.
“Pretty boy can’t handle being by himself?” You listen for the telltale way his breath hitches, creamy baritone rising to a whiny mess.
“You know what to do, Satoru. Imagine it's me, both hands…” You trail off, hearing him grunt and keen.
Satoru’s eyes squeeze closed, listening reverently to your words like a preacher giving a sermon—like the vowels dancing on your tongue are the only thing that can absolve him of his sins.
Satoru’s cerulean eyes pulse and glow with a feral intensity, teeth ripping the egyptian cotton as his cock spurts into the sweats. His body shines with sweat, sticky in places that he didn’t know could be.
“Feel good?” Your voice breaks through the miasma clouding him.
“Better than good,” He croaks, shedding the soiled sweats in the nest before bringing the phone with him to the bathroom. “I’ve got to be in the office today, but dinner on me tonight? There's a sushi spot I want to show you…”
Your heart melts as you hear how his voice softens at the idea of sharing dinner with you again. “Of course, my moon. Just send me the time.” You whisper as the car glides to a stop in front of your building. “Alright, I've gotta go. See you soon alpha.”
You thank Ijichi as he opens up the door for you before ending the call. Taking a large breath, you exhale as you begin to walk towards the building and the inevitable mess awaiting you.
Mess is an understatement when it comes to describing the current state of the penthouse. Furniture is torn, portraits lining the walls shattered on the floor—the kitchen sink has been running for god knows how long.
The whole penthouse reeks of feral alpha, and it makes your eyes water involuntarily. As you carefully weave your way around the carnage, assessing the damage with a carefully neutral expression, a figure emerges into your peripheral from a hallway.
“(Y/N)..?” You freeze, spine rigid as you turn your head to stare at Yuji. “Why’d you stop walkin-” The older Itadori follows behind before stopping at the sight of you.
You aren’t even allowed to think about what to say before you’re engulfed in the tightest hugs you’ve ever received, neck dewy as tears drip from their eyelids.
“(Y/N) oh my god where have you been?” Ryomen chokes out, cradling your face as if you’ll disappear into thin air if he stops touching. “You stopped sharing your location and we couldn’t find where you were and-”
In his frenzy, the overwhelming scent of peppermint and ozone was an afterthought, but as he’s coming to, the pheromones of a dominant alpha make his hackles raise uncontrollably. “You’ve been with Gojo?”
Your eyes narrow at the comment. “And if I have? Why do you hate him so much?” You back out of the embrace, posturing defensively at your older brothers. Your (e/c) glow indignantly at them from behind your strawberry dreads, emotions simmering hot underneath the surface. “Give me an articulable reason why I shouldn't be with him. At least he didn’t bring up that piece of shit like two certain people in front of me.” You spit out, tone bordering on venomous.
Ryomen and Yuji visibly flinch at this, but still try to get closer. “We… can’t tell you why yet, you just have to trust us.” Yuji mumbles, scratching his neck. If they told you he was the head of the largest black market arms dealer in Japan, then they would also have to tell you what their profession was, and they weren't ready for that conversation.
You stare at the two of them for a beat before scoffing. “I leave for 3 days because you guys wont tell me anything and have the nerve to bring up my scum of the earth ex after knowing what happened between us, and now that I return, you’re playing the same tune?” Pushing past the two, you march upstairs towards your room, tearing open the door and moving to the closet where you keep your suitcases.
“Woah woah, (Y/N) just hold on a sec-” Yuji tries to interject. “Hold on for what, brother? I’m not sticking around to be a third wheel in a family of 3 brothers.”
Curdled cream and bitter matcha permeate the space as you throw clothes into two separate bags before moving to your bathroom to pack toiletries away. Ryomen stands in the doorway with his arms crossed, watching you with a narrowed gaze.
“Get out of the way.” You grunt, staring him down. “No. I'm not letting you go back pup.” Ryomen meets your eyes, eyes glowing in challenge. Your eyes widen at the term, nearly dropping the bag in your hands. “My ears must be deceiving me. Could you repeat that for me?” You snarl, voice icy. “I already fucked up the middle child’s hand, I will hurt you too.”
You hold his gaze, not backing down and eventually he slides out of the way with a sigh. “It’s not safe to be with him.” He says from behind you, but you just toss him the bird and finish packing the suitcases.
Both brothers follow you back down towards the front entrance where you stop before the door once again. Yuji’s looking dejected like a kicked puppy while Ryomen has his trademark scowl on his face. “You guys don’t get to be upset. This was brought about by your own doings.” You sigh, running a hand through the part lines on your scalp. “I don’t know when I'll be back, I need to sit and think. Don’t try to find me either.” You toss one last glance over your shoulder at them before leaving again.
“Were you able to place the tracker on him?” Yuji mutters. “Yeah, I’ll send the trace to your phone.” Ryomen exhales, looking down at the live ping on his phone.
You may hate them for it, but they’d be damned if they lost their little brother.
Satoru glides through the office of Limitless Securities like a man anew. Honestly, the truth isn’t far off. He’s never opened himself to someone like this, let alone court an omega. Whispers bubble around the desks but he pays them no mind, striding towards his executive office.
He opens the door to find Shoko and Utahime already inside, lounging on one of the leather couches in the room. “Thought you weren’t gonna show up.” Utahime jeers, Shoko squinting from behind her mug of coffee. “Jesus Satoru, you’re glowing. Who gave you the time of the day?” Shoko snorts, side-eyeing her mate.
“H-How’d you know?” He sputters, face turning an alarming shade of red as he remembers the dirty actions you and him had over the weekend. “Well, you walk in with traces of omega pheromone all over you and you have that dopey grin all over your face—two plus two equals 4.” Shoko takes another sip of coffee, eyes crinkling.
“Alright alright, what's all the noise?” Suguru says smoothly, closing the door behind him. “Gojo found himself an omega~” Utahime wiggles her eyebrows at Satoru. “Not just any omega, ‘m courting him. Was kinda like love at first sight…” Satoru recalls dreamily.
Suguru’s world fractures as the words replay in his head in slow motion. “Courting him.” That can’t be right, right? “When.. When’d you meet him?” The words feel like thorns in his throat but he maintains composure, making sure not to lose control of his face or pheromones.
“Mmm… maybe two weeks ago by now?” Satoru runs his hand through his fluffy tresses. “His name is (Y/N). He’s short, but feisty. Never afraid to stand his ground. Uhm, his hair is naturally pink—and don’t even get me started on his skin. Literally like the highest quality melted chocolate you can find.”
Satoru continues gushing, but it's like cotton is stuffed in Suguru’s ears. “That’s… great. Yeah. I'm happy for you.” He says, but his voice comes out more empty than he would’ve hoped. “Here’s the timeline for the Hyogo contract. I uh… gotta go check on our current shipments.”
Suguru leaves the office quicker than he came in. Satoru doesn’t notice but the alpha and beta sitting on the couch do, both sharing a knowing look before turning back to the white haired alpha.
“How dare he… Satoru was mine years before your grubby hands got on him.” Suguru snarls under his breath to no one in particular as he storms his way out of the office. When he reaches the elevator at the end of the floor, instead of pressing the level for the parking garage, he scans his fingerprint and puts a code into a keypad recessed into the wall. The doors close, and he begins his descent down to the secret floor not even on government stamped city maps.
After a minute in the elevator, the doors finally open to a warehouse the size of 1 or 2 hectares. Suguru immediately turns towards a small building within the massive warehouse. Inside is a computer connected to its own server. Untraceable, invisible to the world, just like the warehouse around it.
He logs in with his personal account, opening the secure messaging site on the dark web they use for arms dealing, except this time it isn’t to deal weapons. After a bit of scrolling through chat logs, he finds him.
24, otherwise known as Naoya Zen’in. He had heard through the underground network about him. Brazen, a total misogynist, and utterly narcissistic. What he had also heard was that he had broken an omega’s heart brutally, one that went by the name of (Y/N).
Etr: Do you know a (Y/N)?
Seen
24: (Y/N) Itadori?
24: Used to date the little slut lol
24: Why?
Seen
Etr: I need him gone
Etr: 30 Million Yen in crypto. Half upfront
Etr: I’ll send the details later
Seen
24: Done. Never liked him anyway, stupid omegas need to know their place.
Seen
Suguru exhales, leaning back in the chair. “No one gets you Satoru. I’ll kill you before I let that happen.”
You trudge through the aisles of the pharmacy, medicine and pregnancy tests in your basket. After Ijichi picked you up from the penthouse and took you back to Satoru’s place, you became violently ill, throwing up in the toilet a couple times. You had then promptly called Ijichi back and had him take you to the pharmacy to get some medicine.
You knew you weren’t pregnant, but it was always better to cover your bases. Checking out, you walk back out to the Rolls Royce where Ijichi is waiting, thanking him as he helps you into the car. You try to close your eyes on the way back, but the nausea just makes your head spin.
The ride finally ends, and you slowly make your way back into the estate. Reaching the bathroom attached to Satoru’s room, you take all the pregnancy tests and set a timer before taking some nausea medication.
Hearing the timer go off, you return to the bathroom where you freeze.
Feeling a severe lack of wanting to do anything so ill be taking a hiatus until im in a better spot mentally and wont just serve up slop for the sake of posting something. Thank you all for the support i’ve received. I’ve only been posting for a little over a month despite having the account for the better part of 2 and a half years and the number of people i’ve been able to entertain is staggering. It all really means something to me, and motivate me to do better, but i need some time to myself to recoup and figure out me, not syxxtrey. Much love <3
Synopsis: There are very few things that Hajime values in life. Strength, willpower, a good fight—but above all, he loves his mate and pup. From underground fighting rings to human trafficking, he never thought he would end up where he is, but that makes him only more grateful.
Word Count: ~1.7k
Content Warning: A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Black!Male Reader x Omega!Hajime Kashimo, Modern AU - No Curses, Soulmate AU, Mentions of human trafficking and bodily harm, Reader is an EMT and Dominant Alpha, Kashimo is an underground fighter turned martial artist, They have a child, Angst to Fluff with some mild teasing.
Notes from Aeternum: Lowkey got tired of writing smut for the time being, so here we are. Shoutout mootie @serotoninandespresso for help with this idea. Kashimo is my all time favorite character from JJK and I literally see no MR (much less poc) with him so im covering all the bases here. Also, there's a funny reference regarding his scent (IYKYK). Enjoy!
Dividers by @cafekitsune. Please go show some support!
The warehouse is dark, save for a few broken spotlights dotted around the perimeter. It reeks of iron and must, sharp enough to make his eyes water. Hajime’s cyan hair is matted, blood dripping down his forehead and into his mouth as he shuffles in place, waiting for his opponent to make a move. Outside the ring, alphas and betas alike jeer and shout, yelling at them to get a move on.
“This blue haired bitch better win, my mortgage is riding on this…” He hears one grumble, “You think if I give enough they’ll let me have some time with him? He’s got a pretty face.” Another whistles, the others murmuring in agreement.
Hajime scoffs, spitting out the red liquid before closing the distance. Jab. Weave. Cross. The punch connects, eliciting a mixed wave of ohhs and groans across the spectators.
He hates it all. He hates how they force him to fight against alphas without scent patches, how the onlookers gaze at him hungrily after matches, how fighting is the only thing he has.
Roll. Uppercut. Yells, louder this time echo off the walls as his opponent goes down, out cold as the referee declares him the winner.
He should feel happiness, joy that he won’t get beat by bettors or have to eat with a broken jaw for the next month, but all there is is emptiness. ‘This is my life’ He thinks to himself, moving towards the ropes.
Loud slams resound from around the warehouse, bright LEDs lighting up the floor. The crackling of an intercom fills his ears.
“POLICE! Everybody put your hands in the air!” Agents in tactical gear swarm in, holding everyone at gunpoint. Hajime stands frozen against the ropes, eyes darting around watching everyone scatter like ants.
The adrenaline, once pumping through his veins, begins to wear off, scents registering and blooming in his olfactories, making his head spin. He doubles over, hands clutching over his mouth as he holds back from retching. Blood rushes through his ears, eyes watering as he takes shallow, choppy breaths.
Hajime vaguely registers a hand being placed on his shoulder before he swats it away quickly, eyes darting up to meet a concerned police officer. “away..” “Sir, can you tell me your-” The officer tries to help him to his feet again “GO AWAY!” Hajime screams, curling up into a ball.
Even with his eyes closed, he feels the eyes on him, starting, scrutinizing. He feels lightheaded, cold flashes shooting through his limbs. ‘Fuck, ‘m gonna drop..’ He thinks, mind hazy.
“EMS on scene!” A smooth voice projects across the space. Mint Chocolate and Black Coffee—the scent, though faint, curls into his noise, calling to him like a siren song. Like a man possessed, he untucks his head, standing up straight before sprinting to the source.
You’re startled by the impact of something, or rather, someone against your chest, about to kindly remove them from you before you sense it.
Saccharine—warm, pillowy waffles and decadent vanilla ice cream. You can taste it on your tongue. An ebony hand finds cyan hair, golden sparks fizzing around it as you stare in amazement.
“Omega?” You use your alpha voice instinctually, strong arms wrapping around your little mate. “M-Mate.. Alpha-” “Shh shh… I’m here.” You croon, pumping out enough pheromones to ward off people in a 5 foot radius. “Can you look up for me, hmm?” He obeys without question, shyly meeting your gaze.
Your eyes lock onto the mess of blood on his head, then the scars, both new and old, across his body, and your demeanor becomes icy. “Who did this to my mate?” You snarl, (e/c) eyes glowing something vicious as you scan the crowd of apprehended suspects.
You have half a mind to run over and slaughter all of them, but the meek voice of your omega reaches your ears.
“Doesn’t matter anymore. Please, just wanna go away..” Hajime begs, eyes glossy. Your eyes dart back to his, studying him once more. “Okay. I’ll get you someplace safe.” You pick him up, letting him wrap his legs around you.
Your eyes meet the Police Captain on duty who had been watching the whole interaction go down. He gives a knowing nod, before returning to give orders to his officers.
“Itadori, you’re incident commander.” You command, glancing at the strawberry haired paramedic. “But lieutenant-” “I need to take care of my soulmate, Yuji. You can handle it.” You reassure, before walking off.
Hajime tucks his head into your neck, whining when nose meets scent patch. Fumbling with his hands, he peeks at you for help, and you take the department issued strips off, letting the full brunt of your pheromones wrap around him as you walk him out of that warehouse.
‘Warm…’ He thinks, letting you whisk him away to his future.
Hajime muses at the memory fondly. Despite it being during the darkest period of his life, he met you. He weaves a hand through his aqua tresses, finger pads tracing the mating bite on his nape. You sleep soundly underneath him, arms wrapped around him even in slumber.
Moving up on your chest slightly, Hajime places a kiss to the durag on your head, then one to your nose, trailing downwards.
Nose, adam’s apple, chest, stomach…
A strong hand stops him before he can go any lower, Hajime peeking up to see your lidded, sleep-laden eyes.
“And good morning to you too, ‘jime.” Your voice is like a cheese grater, scratchy and filled with bass in the best way possible. You pull his smiling face closer, cupping his jaw as lips mold against each other. Hajime exhales softly into his alpha’s mouth, hands splayed across melanated skin. “Stay here, I'll wake our birthday girl up.” You kiss the corner of his mouth, sliding out from underneath him.
He watches your muscles flex as you stand up, flicking a piece of dust off of the silky on your head while you throw an undershirt and pair of sweats on. “Don’t leave me waiting too long~” Hajime teases, watching you walk out of the room and towards your pup’s.
Opening the door slowly, you pad over to sit on the edge of your now 18 year old’s bed. The rays of sunshine illuminate her light brown skin, curly cyan hair peeking out from underneath a bonnet. You smirk, poking her on the nose gently. Her face scrunches up, eyes cracking open to see you smiling down at her.
“Rise and shine my little thunderstorm, hope you didn’t forget what day it is.” You tease, moving to open the window shades fully. You hear a groan behind you as the natural light pours in, looking back to see she had covered herself with the comforter.
“Akarai… I guess these gifts ’ll just have to wait til’ next year~” You singsong, walking back over to the door. That gets her attention, sitting up in the bed fully now. “Don’t even think about it.” She pouts, walking over to you.
“Happy birthday.” You place a kiss on her forehead, wrapping an arm around her. “Your dam is waiting for you so don’t take too long.” You say softly, releasing her and closing the door behind you.
When you come back to your room, Hajime is dressed for the day already, finishing the last of styling his hair in the ensuite mirror. “She’s getting ready.” You murmur, walking up behind him and laying your head on his shoulder. He gives you a peck on the cheek with a small thanks, checking himself over once more. “You get ready too, I’ll have breakfast made by the time you’re both done.” He chirps, winking at you through the mirror as he leaves the bathroom.
Leaving the durag on, you do your skincare routine, brushing your teeth while the face mask works on your pores. Once that’s all done, you move to the closet, replacing the undershirt with a beater and compression tee (under armour of course, you have standards), and walking out of the room.
Your hands trace the metal banister as you make your way downstairs to the kitchen, where you see Hajime preparing the last of breakfast. Sneaking up behind him, you gently grab his waist, kissin’ the mating bite.
“Smells good. God, what’d I do to deserve you?” You mumble, huffing the impossibly sweet smell of waffles like a drug. “I could say the same, yer’ the second best thing that’s happened ta’ me~” He croons, tilting his head back to bring you into a kiss.
“Second? What could be better than your alpha?” You growl playfully, hands teasing his waist, sliding down to cup plush cheeks.
“That would be me. How about not being disgusting on my birthday?” Your daughter playfully pokes her tongue out, stepping into the kitchen.
You both freeze, turning your heads slowly to Akarai. A heavy blush blooms across Hajime’s face, before he whacks you on the head with the wooden spoon in his hand. “Oww..” You groan, holding your noggin’ as Hajime walks over his pup.
“My beautiful pup.. Where did tha’ time go?” He says wistfully, moving a strand of hair out of his pup’s face. “Happy birthday, my little lightning bolt. I made your favorite.”
“Papa…” Akarai tears up, swallowing their dam in a tight hug. “Why’re you cryin’? Yer’ gonna make me cry..” Hajime whispers, hugging back just as fiercely. You watch from the sidelines, eyes soft at the view.
“Cmon, lets eat. You need to be a big and strong alpha, right?” He releases Akarai slowly, walking over to the table where you’re placing the last dish down. Sliding the chairs out for both of them, they sit down and start eating.
Looking around at your happy family, your heart has never felt fuller. You bite into a piece of french toast, excited for the adventures you all would have today.
Saw Gojo specifically that Cocoa Butter Vaseline and SCREAMED cause the way I have that shit on lock 😭 The chapter was so good though 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾 Keep up the good work
RIGHT LIKEEEE 😭I got cocoa butter vaseline, carmex, chapstick, GIVE ME IT ALL
Tysm for the support 🫶🏾 yall make it all worth it when I see stuff like this 🥹
Chapter Synopsis: You and Satoru spend a night of passion together, leading to courting that brings domesticity that Satoru thought would never grace his life. How far do the depths of your devotions reach?
Word count: ~2.4k
Content Warning: A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Satoru Gojo x Powerbottom!Omega!Black!Male Reader, Strangers to Lovers, Angst, Major Character Injury, Yuji x Megumi mentions, Satoru is the head of an illegal arms dealing family, male reader is a botanist, both are dominant variants, Smut (MDNI), Mpreg. Hopefully that’s all. Lmk what I missed!
Notes from Aeternum: Part 3! Finally... Again, apologies for the untimely upload. There were a couple hiccups with doing this in the timespan that I wanted to, along with some decisions about the spacing of the story that I changed, but here we are. Enjoy!
Chapter 2... Chapter 3 (Here)... Chapter 4...
Dividers by @cafekitsune. Please go show some support!
The mansion is opulent, floors made out of materials you can’t even pronounce. It’s not like you really expected anything else. The man wears Tom Ford polos like they’re Hanes undershirts.
“Impressive right?” Satoru smiles, inner alpha preening at its omega being in its domain.
“I’ll admit, it’s nice.” You chuff, letting your eyes roam around.
“D’you want anything to drink?” He asks, moving towards the Michelin-level kitchen. You lean against a large island, eyes taking in his body as he faces away from you, rummaging through the fridge.
“Mm.. Nah. I like to watch people fall apart with a clear head.” Satoru freezes, neck flushing as he turns around to meet your face, a sultry smile adorning your chocolate features.
Your eyes flare, pheromones blooming around the two of you. “C’mere ‘Toru.”
If anyone else were present, he would’ve been embarrassed by how quickly he closed the distance. His hands find your hips immediately, deft fingers teasing your waistband. You let your arms fall easily around his neck, eyes gazing into Satoru’s own with unspoken desire. Satoru’s eyes dart to your lips, full, moisturized, absurdly kissable. Aquaphor perchance? Or are you more of a cocoa butter vaseline person?
“You gonna keep staring or kiss me already?” You whisper, pulling him closer.
Sweet—warm like a heated blanket on a snowy day. It has Satoru reeling. You’re a good– no, great kisser, lips silky soft as they mold against his own.
Definitely cocoa butter.
His eyes close, each burden of his life lifting away with every shaky exhale. Your tongue prods against his lips, before snaking into his mouth.
Satoru’s irises pulse behind his eyelids, pheromones from your saliva infecting him like a virus, rewriting his code until all he can recognize is you you you.
A sharp groan from him gets swallowed up, eyes opening to see you grinding against him.
“Mnh– slurp– alpha feels good, hm?” Your tongue maps his wet cavern, colonizing territory for the camp of (Y/N). All Satoru can muster is a muffled whine as one of your hands sneaks into his sweats, the other massaging his pec through the crewneck.
You pull off with a pwah, mouth moving to suck on his milky skin. Satoru’s hands twitch against your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as you mark up his neck.
“Y-(Y/N), please– anh-!” He keens, shaking like a leaf in the wind.
“Please what ‘Toru?” You admire his now mottled throat with possessive pride.
“Wanna be i-inside— Need it s’bad– Please ill be a good boy i promise–” You cut him off with another aggressive kiss, (e/c) eyes vibrating as you drink up his flushed appearance.
“Room. Now.” You growl against his lips, moving his hands under your butt to lift you up.
You tie your pink dreads back with a hair tie on your wrist as Satoru maneuvers you both through his maze of a house, before cupping his face and making out with him again. Walking up a set of marble stairs, he turns sharply down a hallway, kicking open a door with enough force to rattle the hinges.
Your eyes flit up, observing the new room. Its the master bedroom obviously, but it barely looks lived in. An alaskan king with egyptian cotton sheets peeks at you, but Satoru’s needy lips capture your attention once more.
He only pauses when he finally sits on the mattress, hands sliding from your waist to under your cropped hoodie, helping you take it off. You do the same for him, stripping each other until you’re both bare before your gazes, dicks twitching against eachother’s abdomens.
You smirk, looking at his flushed face, then the rest of his body, eyes carressing skin all the way down to his throbbing member.
Trailing a hand that was resting on his well-muscled shoulder, you let it fall, tracing patterns as it gets closer and closer to his cock. You stop just above his pelvis, fingers traveling between hard muscle before pushing him down.
Satoru barely has time to catch his breath before supple mounds block his airways, sweet cream and matcha invading his senses involuntarily. “Lets see if that tongue can do anything else besides smooth talk~” You rock your hips against his mouth, urging him to start.
Satoru pokes his tongue out, shyly licking a stripe across your hole.
Fuck. Why does every part of you have to be so addicting? His eyes roll back as he laps up the syruped essence, slick dripping down his chin and neck. Satoru slurps it up like holy nectar, the only communion wine he acccepts.
Soft groans and whines bubble out of your throat, eyes closing in pleasure as he eats you out like thanksgiving dinner. Satoru cant get enough of you, pulling you even harder against his face so he can plunge his tongue into your hole. A surprised moan warbles out, ebony hands scrambling for purchase in his snow-white locs.
“G-Good boy. Pleasuring– hn-! your ‘mega so well- ah-!” You choke out, head lolling back. Satoru’s entire body trembles at the praise, senses overwhelmed and inner alpha preening. His cock bobs and strains against his stomach, puddles of pre dottin’ his abs like the great lakes. “Only f’you- sluurp- pretty prince- hah-” Your juices coat his throat like medicine for a cough—persistent and enslaving in its onslaught.
“And good boys- ohmyfuckinggod- deserve r-rewards, right?” You look down at Satoru, blissed out expression on his face. All he can manage is a moan of approval, pumping out more pheromones that make your head swim.
“S’good- keep working that- hn-! tongue-” You pant, grinding harder on his face. Every time your hips rock forward, he catches another whiff of your heady scent, tumbling him further and further into the world of bliss that is your whole being.
Satoru could die happy like this, sandwiched between your melanated cheeks and forced to guzzle your slick until he drowns, but it seems you won’t let him succumb to that fate.
Shakily turning around, you lean down, finally letting Satoru get fresh air. His cock throbs in front of your face, knot already swelling at the base. You place a chaste kiss to the tip, sucking gently.
“AH-! (Y/N)-” “Shh.. jus’ take your treat~” You mumble around the pulsing head, scooping up the copious amount of precum and spreading it across his shaft.
A squeal escapes Satoru’s mouth as you begin stroking his large dick with both hands. Your hands work all the way from what’s not in your mouth alllll the way to the base of the knot, squeezing the swelling appendage. His thighs clench, legs thrashing from the devastating pleasure.
“Aht aht. Shtay- sluurp- still~” You purr, pressing your elbows into his legs.
Wet schlicks and faps echo around the bedroom, interrupted intermittently by Satoru’s choked cries and moans of pleasure and your messy mouth.
“Wait- Gonna cum-!” Satoru sobs, throwing his head against the mattress when your throat sinks down around his shaft, tongue working an orgasm that crashes like a tidal wave.
You hum in approval, gulping down his release as your wet hands work over his knot again and again—no breaks given as his body shakes uncontrollably, second orgasm threatening to crest.
“‘S gonna break-!” Wet cries escape him as the coil snaps once more, legs locking out, biceps flexing. You pull off when you can’t swallow any more, cock spurting the remnants of its milky spend onto your chocolate hands.
“Fuck yes- Thats it baby, let it all out~” You purr, bringing a hand back to mix his cum with the mess of slick and spit in your hole. The other continues languidly stroking him as you work yourself the rest of the way open.
It doesn’t take long thanks to Satoru’s (now broken) tongue, and you find yourself facing him again. Through bleary eyes, he sees your lithe, ebony figure straddling his waist, licking up what's left of his cum on the other hand while staring at him with those glowing (e/c) eyes.
“You back with me, lover boy?” You ask carefully, checking to see if he can continue. “I… I don’t think i’ve cum that hard in my life and I didn’t even stick it in.” He says after a moment, catching his breath.
You chuckle at his response, leaning down to cup his face, pressing a warm kiss to his lips. He accepts it enthusiastically, mouths dancing against one another. “You think you can handle some more?” You probe, rocking back softly against his rehardening length. “I wouldn’t be Satoru Gojo if I couldn’t.” He says reverent, staring at you with his eyes that glint like freshly cut topaz.
He lied. He absolutely lied.
Broken moans escape Satoru as you ride his dick like a rollercoaster—stretchy hole tugging on every draw out, refusing to let him get a reprieve from the pleasure that consumes him. Your plush thighs bracket him against the expensive sheets as you milk him for his 3rd orgasm, hands guiding his to your scent glands, massaging more hypnotizing pheromones out of you.
“Mmmfuck- such a good alpha- ahn~! g’nna hafta let you court me-” You bite out, throwing your head back at a particular thrust upwards from him. “Right thereee-!” Slick gushes out around Satoru’s cock as it abuses your prostate, hammering against the pleasure button like a mochi pounder. Nasty squelches and fwaps filling up his ears, pushing him further and further to the edge.
“(Y/N)- (Y/N)-! Wanna knot you s’bad- fuck- need ittt-” Satoru moans, hands moving to your chocolate globes to knead and spread them around his member, knot swelling and beginning to bump against your rim.
“Mh- make me fat with your kids- ah-! riiight here~?” You bring his hands from your waist to just above your pelvis, coffee complexion bulging with every deep thrust he spears into your body. Fuck. The thought has him reeling, sly grin on your face as you slow it down, rocking your hips back and forth until his knot begins catching on your hole.
You’re so, so mean—carressing his face as you knotfuck him, the bulbous base stretching and slipping in and out, over and over—you’re so complete in the way you dismantle him, piece by piece, taking everything until there's nothing and rebuilding him just for you.
“Cum for me, Satoru.” You command using your omega tone, knot entombing itself in your hole one last time. Drool slips out the side of his mouth as the floodgates open, cum spiderwebbing your hole and filling you up until your insides are the same color as his skin.
The throbbing of his bulging knot against your prostate is enough to make the resistance in your loins snap too, slick squirting around his base as your cock paints his stomach. Through the loyal fog in his brain, he sees his new deity, one with strawberry colored dreads and (e/c) eyes that hypnotize him with every gaze.
“Good boy” Satoru registers hands scrubbing his hair with a gentleness unfamiliar to him, warm water and bath salts seeping into his skin as you wash away his hardships. “Did s’good for me, ‘Toru.” You whisper, rinsing the conditioner from his tresses. He tries to speak, small whines escaping his mouth, but you kiss them away, letting him sink further into you.
You both stay like that for some time, you pampering him as he floats in subspace. Drying the both of you off, you lead him back to changed sheets, choosing to forgo clothes. Laying him down, you get on top of him gingerly, head resting against his chest, arms wrapped around you. “Sleep well f’me, my lover boy.”
Satoru awakens to birds chirping, feeling the most refreshed he has in years, mind clear and body light. Images from the previous night play in his mind, and all he can do is pray that they weren’t a dream. He doesn’t feel your weight on him, alarming him greatly.
Where’s his omega?
He almost trips over his own two feet, throwing on a pair of grey sweats before tumbling through the mansion, eyes frantic. You can’t just leave him like this. He won’t let you. He rounds the corner to the kitchen, and his breath catches in his throat.
There you are, locs messy in one of his oversized hoodies. His eyes dilate, watching you cook breakfast for the both of them. An involuntary croon rumbles in his chest, alerting you to his presence. A gentle smile graces your features when you see him, pausing what you’re doing.
“Morning babe.” Your chest purrs in response to him. Satoru walks over, standing in front of you before wrapping his strong arms around you tightly, tucking his head into the junction of your neck, inhaling your scent. “Was gonna bring you something to eat in bed-”“I like you, (Y/N). Please let me court you.” Satoru breathes out, not meeting your eyes. “You dummy, I like you too.. look at me please?” You whisper, cupping his face, meeting his glossy eyes. “What’s got you so worked up?” Satoru sniffles, rubbing his face in your palms.
“Thought you left me… didn’t feel you when I woke up so I got scared-” The words tumble out, scent dimming. You stop his rambling with a kiss, blooming calming pheromones around the both of you.
“Breathe with me, in and out.” You whisper, inhaling and exhaling with him until he calms down. “I’m not leaving you Satoru.” You wipe away the tears dotting his lashes, meeting his gaze after. “Okay?” Satoru’s heart swells at the declaration, falling even harder for you. “Okay.”
The rest of the weekend is bliss, spending time in each other's embrace, going on dates, exploring each other at night—Satoru is the other half you never knew you had.
Monday comes far too quickly for your liking. Another one of Satoru’s stupidly soft hoodies swallows your body, borrowing a pair of sweats from him as well. You make a makeshift nest for him out of the clothes you wore over and some scented blankets.
“See you soon?” You mumble, looking up at him, pink locs framing your face. “‘F course baby. Call me when Ijichi drops you off?” “Yeah.” You stand on your tippy toes, arms falling around his neck as you kiss him goodbye.
Satoru watches the Rolls Royce drive away, fingers ghosting over his lips.
“Miss you already..” He murmurs, turning back to get dressed for today.
Chapter Synopsis: While your management understands your strife, they still have to do something about the incident, stunting any chances of promotions or raises in the near future. Needing to clear your head, you go to a cafe, only to run into Satoru again. He begins popping up everywhere–unexpected and unrelenting. Do you have a solution?
Word Count: ~3.6k
Content Warning: A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Satoru Gojo x Powerbottom!Omega!Black!Male Reader, Strangers to Lovers, Angst, Major Character Injury, Yuji x Megumi mentions, Satoru is the head of an illegal arms dealing family, male reader is a botanist, Smut (MDNI), Mpreg. Hopefully that’s all. Lmk what I missed!
Notes from Aeternum: Part 2! I actually went back and added some details in the first chapter that you'll see in this chapter. I also reformatted how these posts look, so give me some feedback on what you think. Lastly, I do have an AO3 account now where I'll post these chapters. Definitely not as meticulously formatted as these ones, but im still going to put some effort in them. I think that's all the news... Enjoy!
Find Chapter One Here.
Dividers by @cafekitsune. Please go show some support!
You sigh, looking at the email in your inbox.
From: Upper Management
Subject: RE: (dd/mm/yr) Incident
Good Morning (Y/N),
Thank you for the transparent and honest communication regarding the altercation yesterday. We have since received reimbursement for the damages, and a reasonable settlement on top of that from their legal team. However, it is still in the best interest of the institution to put you on administrative leave. Several onlookers witnessed your outburst, so as to maintain the image of the gardens…
The rest of the paragraph blurs into a blob as you slump back in your desk chair. You can’t say you didn’t expect the outcome, but the result is irritating nonetheless.
Why you? You know you have a small habit of letting your mouth run before your brain catches up… But he deserved it! Can anyone really blame you?
You’re broken out of your melancholy by the sound of your door opening.
Sandalwood and melon invade your nose.
‘Yuji’, you think absentmindedly, hearing footsteps make their way closer towards you.
“Is my little bro okay?” He coaxes, picking you up from underneath your armpits.
“I got put on administrative leave.” You say tersely, staring blankly at Yuji through your dreads, dangling in his hold like a cat.
A frown tugs at his features before they soften again, setting you down gently and enveloping you in a hug.
“Im sorry to hear that (Y/N).” He consoles, blooming his scent around the both of you. Yours react briefly before you withdraw them, pushing away from his hold lightly.
“‘M gonna go clear my head…” You murmur, tying up your dreads and walking out of your room. The house is quiet, save for your small footsteps that echo off of the walls of the hallway. Passing by Ryomen’s home office, you cast a glance inside, seeing him nose deep in whatever work he does, glasses on, brow furrowed as he types away on his keyboard.
You’re about to continue walking, but he stops you before you can.
“C’mere.” He sighs, looking up from the monitor.
You groan, expecting a lecture, but walk into the room nonetheless.
You go around the side of the desk, looking at him impatiently.
Ryomen studies your face for a moment, before reaching for his wallet and pulling out a shiny black card.
“Go treat yourself.” He mutters, voice lacking the usual nagging tone he’d have with you.
The strict eldest brother, the permanent scowl, The Ryomen Itadori, is treating you with his black card?
Maybe God is real.
A grin breaks across your face as you jump at him, his eyes widening.
“Wait-!” He chokes out, instinctively wrapping his arms around you before crashing to the floor in his office chair.
“Ack- Did you really need to do…” He trails off, stopping when he sees the pure smile on your face.
It was radiant. The kind of smile that reaches your eyes and warms up the room.
Your chocolate skin glows as laughter bubbles out of your mouth, new life breathed into you. Ryomen hasn’t seen you this happy since you’ve been with Naoya. His teeth grit just thinking about the bastard. The day you came home after he broke your heart, he almost burned the world down.
You had smelled of nothing, trudging like a soulless robot up to your room. When Yuji, Megumi, and him had followed you in, he found you collapsed in your nest unresponsive.
Never had he felt such fear.
And when you came to in a hospital bed, wailing at the memories flooding back of what he’d done…
Ryomen had never felt such rage.
A loud, full-bodied purr shakes him out of his thoughts, looking down at your smile once more.
“Does my money really make you that happy?” He questions, feigning annoyance.
“You take me for a gold digger?” You accuse, making an offended face before laughing and smiling again.
“Im just happy at the gesture of you wanting me to be happy.” You chirp, brushing dreads from your face.
Rolling off of him, you stand and help your brother back up—not without calling him old of course, but Ryomen thinks he can deal with it if he gets to see his precious brother smile again.
“I’ll bring you and Yuji something back!” You beam, walking out of his office and out of the multi-story penthouse.
Soooo… you might’ve lied about bringing something back to them.
You’d been wandering around the city for a while now, trying to figure out something to do with the newfound wealth in your pocket.
Blowing a pink loc out of your face, your eyes scan your surroundings once more before spotting a random cafe.
‘Sendai Sweets?’ You think to yourself. “Eh, looks good enough, might as well.” You mutter, walking towards the establishment.
The interior is cozy. Warm lighting, tasteful fauna, and comfortable looking seating choices. While the store is quiet now, you’re sure that during certain hours, it’s the most popular in the area.
Your thoughts are broken by a cheery looking omega that greets you by the counter.
“Hi! Welcome to Sendai Sweets! What can I get you today sir?” They ask in a lively tone.
“Hi! It’s my first time here, so surprise me with something you think I'd like!” You exclaim.
“Hmm…” They grumble, taking a long, hard look at you. “Ah!” They conclude. “I know just what your drink is. Consider it on the house~” They smirk walking back to their workstation to make your drink.
The beverage is completed in no time, and as you go to pick it up, you notice it's a bright sky blue. Your ebony cheeks burn, the color practically identical to a certain dominant alpha’s eyes.
Your pheromones flare as embarrassment washes over you. Looking away as you pick up the drink, you hope your dreads hide your expression.
“Judging by your reaction, I hit my mark~” The barista teases, wiggling their eyebrows. “Enjoy~!”
You whisper a thanks, walking back to your beanbag before slumping into it.
You cover your face, skin feeling entirely too warm as you recall how many things remind you of him now.
The bottle of creamer in the fridge—Yuji had looked at you like you were crazy when the fridge door slammed shut. The color of a flower in the background of a photo Megumi sent from the lab—hell, even the clear sky today reminds you of him.
You take a sip of the drink, a breathy sigh escaping you.
It's peppermint. Why would it be anything else?
The door chime echos and your ears perk up.
Your inner omega recognizes it before you do. ‘Alpha’s here!’ It howls in your head.
Your eyes widen as you place your gaze on Satoru. Gone is the starched and pressed polo and crisp pants, instead replaced with an all-too-soft looking hoodie, and a pair of grey sweats.
He looks up at the menu while stretching, and your eyes drift to his midriff.
I thought they stopped carving Greek statues?
Your eyes are glowing a hypnotizing shade of (e/c) as you drool at the muscled frame teasing your vision.
“Hi, can I do my usual?” Satoru asks the worker.
“Of course Mr Gojo! Tap when you’re ready. It'll be out in a few.” The omega responds.
Satoru taps his card, leaving a hefty tip before turning and stopping when he catches a whiff of your pheromones. His eyes blaze looking for yours, pheromones instinctually trying to reach out to yours.
When your eyes finally meet, the rest of the world melts away.
He hasn’t washed that polo since you bumped into him, and the fading scent has only made him more antsy. A low croon threatens to bubble out of his throat, but your quick movement snaps him out of his trance.
“Wait-” He tries to call out, but you’re gone before he can say something.
Satoru sighs, eyes going back to the beanbag you were sitting on. Before he can stop himself, he finds himself curled up in where you just were. His inner alpha purrs and yips, finally in the presence of its omega again.
The worker watches the interaction from the counter, a fond expression on their face.
“I give ‘em 2 weeks.” They mutter to themselves, shaking their head as they finish getting Satoru’s order ready.
So that moment wasn’t an invitation for him to show up everywhere in your life?
Ever since that time in the shop, you can’t seem to go somewhere without him being there too. Flower shop? He “just so happens” to need to buy a bouquet. The motorcycle dealership when you’re browsing for another sports bike? “Looking for a gift for his brother.”
The final straw is when you dip into an alley to throw away a gum wrapper one afternoon and lo and behold, he happens to pop out of a side entrance, pretending to look at his phone.
You move before you even think, slamming him into the brick, hands fisting the collar of his shirt while your legs keep him pinned and immobilized. The phone, still unlocked, flies out of his hand onto the concrete ground.
Satoru’s hands instinctually reach for his gun before your scent registers in his brain. ‘My Omega’, he thinks, a dopey grin gracing his face as he looks down at you.
“Is this some kind of sick joke to you?” You snap, pressing him into the brick wall even harder.
“I see you everywhere, and now everything reminds me of you and your stupid mug. You’ve got my attention. Are you happy?” You jab.
Your eyes pulse behind your strawberry dreads, now covering your face messily from your harsh movements.
All Satoru can think is that his omega is so strong, so feisty, so… perfect. The only one for him.
You remind him of an angry kitten, eliciting a laugh out of him.
“What are you laughing at? This isn’t funny asshole.” You snarl.
“Sorry sorry… It's just that my omega looks so cute right now I couldn’t help it.” Satoru croons, absolutely smitten as he looks down at you with those bright blue eyes.
Your brain short-circuts, steam pouring out of your ears as you register what insanity he just said.
You feel his hands slot on your hips a little too well, like your waist was designed with them in mind. Your own hands slowly let go of his shirt, face burning as his scent of peppermint, ozone, and vanilla envelops the both of you.
You so desperately want to pull away, to slap him for all that’s happened to you because of him, but your body won’t let you. Your inner omega screams at you to let it happen, soaking up all the attention from the alpha it’s already claimed as its own.
You stammer, trying to get anything to come out of your mouth, but all that resonates in the narrow alley is a small squeak.
You force yourself to move away, Satoru’s hands chasing their purchase on your body as your own cover your chocolate face.
“No shade… but ‘your omega’ is crazy considering we haven’t even talked properly.” You mumble, peeking at him from behind your hands.
“So let me.” Satoru breathes, closing the gap between you two again.
You gotta give it to him, he’s quick on his feet, and that little moment might’ve been just enough.
You both stare into each other's eyes for a moment–pupils blown.
Fuck it.
You flip your positions with surprising strength, pinning Satoru down once more.
“On my time,” You begin, tilting his head down with a finger. “On my terms…” You drawl, sliding another finger down the center of his chest, squatting sultrily to pick up the phone. “And at my tempo.” You utter, putting in your contact info.
“382 XX Street, 8pm sharp. Dress comfy, and don't be late.” You whisper in his ear, before slinking away and out of the alley.
A beat passes before Satoru finally takes a breath. His hands tremble, one going to cover his mouth, the other clutching the phone like a lifeline.
In it, a new chat started. The name (Y/N) sits at the top like it owns him.
(Y/N)... (Y/N)... (Y/N).
Satoru couldn’t imagine a name more fitting for you.
His breathing is erratic, sharp intakes and exhales resounding against the narrow passage.
The tips of his ears and the peaks of his cheeks are tinged red, and he can almost taste the remnants of your scent in the air.
He hopes you didn’t notice the wet spot that formed in his pants.
You giggle in the elevator up to the family penthouse, practically vibrating with excitement as you stare down at the messages on your screen. It's cute to see him so worked up.
6:11pm
Satoru: 382 XX Street right?
Satoru: I promise this’ll be worth your time
Satoru: Can’t wait to see you
Read 6:13pm
Y/N: So needy
Read 6:13pm
Y/N: I'm excited to see you too
Sent 6:14
You smile at your phone gently as you walk into the penthouse, pheromones warm and soft. You don’t notice the frowns on your brothers faces as you make your way up the stairs to your room to get ready.
You shower with deliberate slowness, making sure every inch of your ebony skin is clean before drying yourself and moisturizing. Choosing clothes, you decide on a cropped hoodie and some cute shorts, tying back your strawberry dreads into a messy ponytail.
You’re humming to yourself as you make your way to the bottom of the stairs, turning to the main entrance, but stop when Ryomen clears his throat behind you.
“And where do you think you’re going?” He asks with a pointed gaze.
“Oh, uh… going out bowling with Yuji?” You mumble, not meeting his eyes. “Wanna try again?” Yuji grunts, walking out from around a pillar.
“Okay so like what is this? Why do I need to tell you my whereabouts?” You counter, getting defensive.
Yuji and Ryomen maintain their distance, but their gazes don’t get any less scrutinizing.
“We know you’re talking to Satoru. We told you to stay away from him-” Ryomen gets cut off.
“And why do I have to listen to you? You’re acting like I'm not a grown person that can make their own decisions! My business is my business!” You snap, bearing your fangs at them.
Why was it always like this? They get to keep their stupid secrets and you have to show your entire agenda, just because they’re “being protective”.
“Why do I have to spill every little thing to you two? You guys are so paranoid and secretive sometimes that I feel like I barely know my own brothers!”
“How so? Secrets are secrets, Ryomen.” You question, tilting your head in mock confusion.
“(Y/N), we just don't want a repeat of Naoya-” Yuji interjects, trying to place a hand on your shoulder.
“DON’T SAY HIS FUCKING NAME!” You roar, swiping your now clawed hands at him.
Yuji’s eyes widen, hissing as watches blood drip from the lacerations. He looks to Ryomen, who’s at a loss for words, eyes just as wide as Yuji’s own.
Even in the biggest of disagreements, you had never screamed at them, much less hurt them.
Your pheromones, sweet cream and matcha, which had been slowly souring over the course of the argument plummet into the most curdled, bitter and burnt scent a dominant omega could produce, eyes blazing like an inferno.
Tears fill your full lashes as you clench your teeth, hands trembling with rage.
“Don’t… say his name.” You whisper.
The silence surrounding the three of you is suffocating, but Yuji and Ryomen can’t bring themselves to break it.
You silently make your way over to the main entrance, picking up your motorcycle keys and riding gear, and cast one last glance back to your brothers who’re stuck to their spots before slamming the door.
A framed picture of the three of you from years before falls to the ground, glass shattering on impact.
Satoru sits nervously at a booth, fidgeting with the bouquet of orange zinnias he got for you. Truthfully, he arrived 30 minutes before, anxious about making a good impression. Did his hair look good? Was a crewneck overdressing? Did his face break out on the ride over here?!
A shaky exhale leaves him as he sets down the bouquet, burying his head in his arms. Why was an omega making him feel like this? He’d never been one for long term relationships with people, much less romantically. Too much at risk—entirely too much to lose. His heart still hurts whenever his mind goes back to watching his entire family get gunned down at 15.
Satoru is pulled from his thoughts when he hears the sound of a sports bike coming to a stop outside of the restaurant. Before he can wonder who it is, you walk through the door.
Ah, now he remembers why he feels like this.
Your chocolatey skin glows under the soft lighting, coral locs slightly tousled by the helmet now resting against your hip. Your face is healthy—full, yet sharp in the right places. Your eyes… such an alluring shade of (e/c). His eyes trail down, mouth running bone dry as they devour the sight of your smooth, taut stomach.
“Oh my god…” He utters to no one in particular. He almost forgets to blink, and when he does, his heart leaps out of his chest when he finds you’re standing in front of him, smirking.
“Hi stalker man~” You tease, sitting down in the opposite booth.
A deep blush covers his face as he hides behind his hands. “S-Sorry, all of my rationality kinda went out the window when I met you…” He whispers.
‘Cute’ You muse, smiling softly. Seeing such a progenitor of the dominant alpha reduced to a stammering, jumpy little mess stirs something primal in you.
You can tell he’s nervous, eyes looking everywhere but yours.
“Satoru.” You coax, taking his hands into your smaller ones. “Breathe.” You smile, releasing some calming pheromones.
You watch his eyes finally meet yours, pupils dilating as he inhales your scent.
“You back with me? You croon, releasing his hands.
“Yeah, uh… sorry about that.” Satoru says sheepishly.
Your eyes travel over to the bouquet on the table. “Zinnia elegans.” You blurt out, botanist brain activated. “Represents strength, endurance, and long life. How bold of you~”
Despite your joking remarks, a genuine grin stretches your melanated skin.
“I thought it was poetic. You’re very strong, both in body and mind…” Satoru retorts playfully, gaining back some of the confidence you saw when you first met him.
Sensing that the mood had been calmed, you flagged down a waiter, ordering a round of apps and drinks for the two of you.
“Do I get a say in what we have?” Satoru voices, looking up at you from his menu.
“Mm… nah. If you want this going any further, your palette is getting trained.” You snicker, setting down the menu and toying with the hem of your cropped hoodie.
Conversation comes easy once the food and drinks arrive, and the anger and hurt you were suppressing melted away into something warm and fuzzy in your gut.
You enjoy watching him gingerly try each dish you put in front of him, sharing occasionally when it's something you really like.
Was ordering him oxtail shoving him straight into the deep end? Yes. Did it need to happen? Also yes.
By the end of the date, you both are a couple drinks in, bellies full, and enjoying the comfortable silence.
“Could you really not s’me when you bumped into me?” You slur, giggling intermittently at nothing as you pay the tab and walk out beside him.
“Was jus’ bein mean. Defense mechanism. M’sorry~” Satoru replies back sadly, tipsy, but handling his liquor better than you.
You smile at him, pulling him close by the arm and tucking your face into his chest.
“We can work through that.” You say, regaining some clarity, looking back up at him from your position.
“I wanna go to yours, pleaseee? ‘M too drunk to ride back, ‘n I don’t feel like seeing my brothers anyway right now, ‘m still angry at them.” You plead, hands resting on his chest now.
His breath hitches as he looks down at you, committing every detail to memory.
“Yeah. That’d be nice if you’re okay with that.” Satoru breathes out.
He calls his chauffeur–because of course he has one, sobering up quickly as his body shields you—protecting his omega.
A sleek Rolls Royce glides to a stop in front of the two of you quickly, and he helps you in before getting in behind you. You vaguely hear Satoru talking to the driver, ‘Ijichi, another beta’ cataloguing it away for later.
The cityscape glides by quietly, slowly fading into even quieter suburbs. You would’ve fallen asleep if not for Satoru occasionally rubbing patterns on your exposed midriff.
When the car finally stops, you’re in front of the steps of a lavish mansion. Your eyes drift to the metal gates around the perimeter, before landing back on Satoru, who offers you a hand.
“Shall we?” He queries, a small grin on his face.
“After you… I like to watch~” You croon, eyes lidding as you take the hand leading you into the estate.
A/N: (Y/n) an omega man in late pregnancy, who's also an ER doctor, Gavin Reed a gruff alpha sire who's also a detective, and Miles (L/n)-Reed their four year old ball of chaos have a lovely day at the zoo. Along with Gavin's coworkers, who finally get to see what their douchebag coworker is like when he's not at work. ~6.3k words.
Warnings: My opinion? None really. Maybe some slight body-image insecurity/sensitivity? nothing too heavy just Miles having an unfiltered comment about his daddy's size.
P.S. - Thank you to the anon who requested this! I hope you like this!
Credits: banners/dividers are made by @/cafekitsune
Gavin sighs as he enters the precinct.
He mumbles out half-hearted greetings to those he thinks are on his level.
He sucks up to the captain, convinced it’ll get him a promotion.
Anyone under him, he ignores entirely. None of them can advance his career, none of them can be useful to him.
“Who’s this?” Gavin mutters to Hank, as he sits down, cup of coffee in hand.
“His name’s Connor.” Hank gruffly says. Gavin doesn’t miss the way Hank’s jaw tightens.
“He’s helping with the recent increase in deviancy.” He rolls his eyes.
Gavin nods, not even really paying attention to Hank.
He nearly spits out his coffee when he sees that blue ring light up in Connor’s temple.
“So Cyberlife sent us a bucket of bolts to catch other tin-cans?” He sneers, laughing to himself.
He waits for Connor to respond, seeing that blue light continue to circle.
“Yes Detective Reed.” He finally speaks having scanned Gavin’s face.
“I’m an RK800 Prototype.” He informs him.
“Look at this clanker, pretending to be human.” Gavin snidely remarks.
“What? You here to replace us?” He barks.
“I’m here as an asset. A tool. I was programmed to help with cases regarding deviant androids and that’s what I’ll do.” He answers pragmatically.
“Make yourself useful, and get me a coffee.” Gavin waves Connor off.
“Fuckin’ plastic asshole…” he mutters under his breath.
“I only take orders from Lieutenant Anderson.” Connor responds, his LED light shifting from blue to yellow.
Gavin looks back up at Connor, blood already boiling.
“You’re not fuckin’ human!” He snarls.
“You listen here plastic detective. I’m human, I’m flesh and blood, and I outrank you.” He barks.
“So when I command you to do something, you fuckin’ do it!” He jeers, getting into Connor’s face.
“Since Cyberlife sent you, I’m sure they’ll have no problem sending another,” Gavin jabs his finger into Connor’s chest, punctuating each word, “if you happen to catch a bullet with that defective motherboard in your head.” Gavin snaps.
“Ease up Reed.” Hank finally speaks. “I don’t like this either, but what are we gonna do?” He bemoans.
“Chief’s orders.” He adds, looking through the case files.
“Is it now?” He snidely chuckles. “Figures they’d give the drunk a watch guard.” Gavin mutters, sitting back down.
“What was that Reed?” Hank growls.
“You heard me.” He laughs, taking a sip of his coffee.
“And another—” Gavin’s voice dies in his throat, his nose twitching.
His eyes shoot to the front of the precinct, trained on the door that bars the reception area from the work room.
“C’mon Miles.” You coo to your 4-year-old.
“You wanted to see papa, right?” You gingerly ask.
Miles nods against your leg, clinging to you and trying to hide behind you.
“Sorry Sarah, he’s a little shy.” You say sheepishly to the desk worker.
“No worries, (Y/n). Gavin’s at his desk, you want me to call him up?” She asks.
“No, it’s fine, I’m just gonna head back there, y’know surprise him.” You giggle, before exhaling sharply.
Your hand goes to your stomach.
“God he’s a kicker.” You groan, rubbing your swollen stomach.
“How many months?” She asks. “Uh—if you don’t mind me asking of course.”
Sarah looks down to the papers in front of her. She hasn’t known you for long, but she can only assume you’d be a hard ass, a douche, like Gavin.
“8 and a half-ish, but God I’m ready to pop him out.” You laugh.
“I bet.” She laughs.
“Yeah, have a good one.” You say walking past her.
“Let’s see, where did papa sit again?” You look around, before looking down, feeling Miles tug on your jeans.
The clicking of keys, constant conversation, paper shuffling are all background noise to you with how often you’ve been here.
“Daddy up?” His lip trembles, arms raised.
“Aww, what’s wrong honey? You overwhelmed?” You gently pick him up, slotting his face against your scent gland.
“….scary…” He murmurs against your neck.
You remember it’s his first time here.
“I bet it is, but you’re my big strong boy. You’re gonna be a big brother. It’s okay to be scared, you just have to be brave.” You gently rub his back.
Miles just nods against your scent gland, his breathing evening out.
He lifts his face from your scent gland, puffing out his chest.
“Okay Daddy.” He whispers, one arm around your neck, the other on your chest.
“Let’s go find papa.” You kiss his cheek.
You barely take a few steps, when Gavin stops in front of you.
“Hi honey.” He says, leaning down to kiss you.
“Hi baby.” You smile against his lips.
Gavin’s scent brightens, he lights up instantly.
“And is that my handsome boy?” He coos, gently poking Miles’ stomach.
Miles laughs, hand going to try and smack away Gavin’s.
“Papa!” Miles squeals.
“C’mere squirt. Give Daddy a break.” Gavin says taking Miles from your arm. “What, did ya forget how to walk?” Gavin rubs his cheek against Miles’.
“It’s his first time here, he’s just a little overwhelmed.”
“Aww, I bet.” Gavin says kissing the crown of Miles’ head.
You wince, hand going to your back.
“Ah, let’s get you to my desk.” Gavin says quickly rushing you over.
“Take a seat, I’ll get you both something to drink.” He says walking away.
Miles climbs onto your lap, looking at the documents across Gavin’s desk.
“Look, but don’t touch sweetie.” You say gently as Miles’ hand reaches across the table.
“Hi, (Y/n).” Hank greets warmly.
“Lieutenant Anderson.” You drawl. “It’s been a while.” You beam.
“It sure has. How’s hard ass treating you?” Hank snorts.
“Good, good. Can’t complain. I don’t know what you guys mean when you say he’s a dick.” You chuckle.
“And (Y/n) this is—”
“Connor?” You say excitedly.
“It’s good to see you again, (Y/n).” Connor smiles. “Still healthy. You’re not pushing yourself too hard, correct?” He asks.
“Not at all.” You sheepishly respond.
Hank makes a face, looking between you and Connor.
“You two know each other?” He asks.
“My first case.” Connor starts. “Little girl taken hostage by a deviant android her family purchased.” He recounts.
“He kept them company in the hospital.” You say warmly. “He was very interested in my line of work.” You chortle.
“I was merely ensuring the hostage’s health.” He says pragmatically.
“Connor what did we talk about?” You gently chide.
His LED shifts from blue to yellow and back.
“I was merely ensuring Emma’s comfort, seeing as I saved her.” Connor corrects.
“There we go Con’ already talking like a great detective.” You giggle.
“Thank you, (Y/n).” He smiles as his eyes lock onto the ring on your finger.
“I did not know you were married.” His surprise evident.
“Ah, yeah, I am.” You say showing the gold band.
“Who’s the lucky guy?” He tilts his head as he asks.
“Gavin is.” Your confusion plain as day.
Connor’s face cracks briefly, before he forces it back to the polite neutrality.
“Ah.” Connor says. “I…I understand why Lieutenant Anderson asks if Gavin treats you right.” Blue flashes on his temple as if processing the new revelation.
“God is he really as bad as people say?” You snort.
“I couldn’t say.” Connor deflects.
“So the child Gavin carries…?” He presses looking over, watching as Gavin plays peek-a-boo with Miles.
“Yeah. Our oldest. Miles (L/n)-Reed.” You swoon.
“He’s making decaf coffee for you.” Connor says.
“Yup. God I think I miss caffeine the most.” You bemoan.
“Caffeine isn’t good for humans regardless.” Connor comments.
“Here you go honey.” Gavin comes back, a smile on his face that doesn’t seem forced for once.
“Just some decaf coffee, two sugars, whole lotta cream like you like.” He coos.
“Thanks babe.” You sigh contentedly, blowing the liquid before taking a sip.
Gavin looks over to Hank, who looks smug, and Connor who looks even more perplexed.
“Is this toaster oven bothering you?” He growls staring daggers into Connor.
“Gavin.” You scold. “That’s no way to speak to Connor, you need to apologize.” You demand.
Gavin looks to you, hurt flashing across your face.
“But (Y/n)—”
“No buts. Look at him. He’s doing his job, don’t treat him like that.” You cut Gavin off.
“(Y/n) it’s quite alright.” Connor chimes in. “I would dislike it, if you two fought over me.” He purses his lips.
“No it’s okay Connor, you’re a person, with feelings, and Gavin needs to respect that.” You warn.
Connor’s mouth opens, his LED blinking yellow before shutting off.
“I’m not a person, (Y/n). I’m an RK800 prototype.” Connor corrects.
“See? Even he knows he’s not real.” Gavin meekly says.
“Gavin!” You protest.
“Papa be nice to Daddy and ‘Onnor.” Miles pouts, crossing his arms and turning away from his sire.
He sighs, before turning to Connor.
“I…apologize,” Gavin grits his teeth, “if I’ve…crossed a line.” He gives Connor and Hank a fake smile.
“Thank you Detective Reed. I’m sure Lieutenant Anderson appreciates it.” Connor says neutrally, but Gavin can see the smugness written all over Connor’s face.
Gavin’s chest rumbles, a low threatening rasp. “Back off, Connor.” He snaps.
“Gavin.” You say softer. Gavin tenses before looking back to you, eyes softening immediately.
“C’mere.” You beckon him with a finger. You catch his jaw, guiding him down, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.
“Whose are you?” You ask softly.
“Yours.” Gavin says even gentler. His scent curling back into the warmth you and Miles both love.
“Whose am I?” You kiss him again.
“Mine.” He says smiling against your lips.
“Who else’s?” You giggle.
“No ones. Just mine. All mine.” Gavin nips at your lips.
“Exactly.” You cup his cheek.
“So love, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?” Gavin says warmly.
“Well someone, not saying names, but not me, promised Miles here a trip to the zoo.” You say leaning back, hand gently resting on the swell of your belly.
“Oh fu-“ Gavin’s eyes dart to Miles, “darn. Darn. I did promise that.” Gavin laughs.
“For today, Papa.” Miles reminds.
“Well…let me talk to Captain Fowler, see what he says.” Gavin goes to hand you Miles, before raising an eyebrow and taking Miles with him.
“If that doesn’t work you owe me a massage tonight.” You smirk.
“You’ll get one regardless, but trust this is gonna work.” Gavin hikes Miles up higher on his hip.
“Hey buddy, papa needs you to tell my boss that you want me home today.” Gavin coos as he walks into Jeffrey’s office.
“It’s sort of like he’s bipolar.” Hank mutters.
“Or another personality disorder.” Connor adds absentmindedly.
“He’s not so bad.” You smile softly, rubbing your stomach.
“You have rose colored spectacles, (Y/n).” Connor muses. “Although I haven’t seen you ever wear glasses…or exhibit the signs of needing corrective lenses.” Connor says under his breath.
“No I promise he’s kind, attentive, loving.” You sigh dreamily. “Just not to anyone that’s not family I guess.” You laugh.
“Thank you Captain Fowler!” Gavin says waving goodbye.
“Y’know, why don’t you two come with?” You suggest. Gavin’s eyes widen, he stops dead in his tracks.
“You guys can see how Gavin really is.” You smile softly.
“I’m sure they’d love to (Y/n),” Gavin power walks back, “but they’re oh so busy,” Gavin says sadly, “right?” He turns to Hank and Connor staring daggers at them.
“Not at all actually.” Hank smirks.
“Detective?” Connor’s bewilderment written across his face.
“Connor we’ve earned a break.” Hank says calmly.
Connor’s LED turns blue shifting to yellow, then back.
“You’re right detective.” He says with a smirk.
“We’d love to come along (Y/n).” Connor’s politeness feels like a dagger in Gavin’s chest.
“Unless of course someone else would want us to not come.” Hank goads Gavin.
“Oh Gavin doesn’t mind.” You wave them off.
“Right honey?” You tilt your head, batting your eyelashes.
“Right.” Gavin says sweetly, but defeated.
Gavin raises an eyebrow, smile stretching across his face.
“Babe, what car did you come in? ‘Cause I doubt we have enough room for all of us.” He says morosely. “We don’t all fit in my car.” He adds.
“Oh I brought the van. There’s more than enough room.” You cup his cheek, before groaning as you stand up.
“Let’s get going.” You chirp, walking towards the reception desk.
“Papaaaa.” Miles whines, trying to pull Gavin. “Les goooo.” He leans towards you.
“Alright champ.” Gavin sighs softly.
“C’mon microwave and drunkard.” He mutters.
“Watch it, Gavin.” Hank growls.
“Detective Anderson, don’t pay him any mind. I believe the most effective remedy to his attitude would be informing (Y/n).” Connor chimes in.
“You wouldn’t.” Gavin’s head snaps back towards them.
“I won’t.” Connor says innocently. “As long as there’s no reason to.” He adds.
“Fu-“ Gavin clears his throat, watching Miles tilt his head, “fine Connor.” He rasps, rolling his eyes.
“Let’s get going.” Gavin sighs, following your lead.
“What’s your plan Detective?” Connor probes.
“Just wanna see him squirm.” Hank shrugs, a smug smile stretched across his face.
They both follow behind Gavin, Hank smiling at Miles as he peeks behind his Sire, Connor gives a small nod to the toddler, before Miles hides against Gavin’s scent gland.
“Oh no you don’t (Y/n).” Gavin projects, his voice more warmth than anything else.
“What?” You say trying to climb into the driver seat.
“Nuh-uh, get in the passenger seat. I’m driving.” Gavin says opening the back door and putting Miles in his car seat.
“I can drive!” You groan.
“Don’t care, I’m driving.” Gavin kisses your cheek before taking the keys from you.
You sigh deeply but move to the passenger side door, your hand doesn’t get to touch the handle.
“Thanks, sweetie.” You say as Gavin opens the door for you.
He gingerly shuts the door, eyes narrowing at his gaze drifts to Hank and Connor.
“Door’s unlocked assholes.” He grits his teeth.
He takes a breath, softening immediately as he gets into the car.
“Ready, sweetie?” Gavin asks, hand curling possessively, gingerly over the swell of your belly.
“As I’ll ever be.” You giggle, putting your hand on top of his.
Hank opens the back door, letting Connor climb in first, shutting the door behind himself as he buckles his seatbelt.
“Wha’ ‘bout me papa?” Miles chimes in, cheeks puffed out.
“Are you ready, my strong boy?” Gavin chirps.
“Mmhm!” Miles smiles. “Wha’ about ‘Onnor and ‘Ank?” He asks tilting his head.
Gavin’s knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.
“Well…Connor, Hank, you two ready?” He asks with a strained smile on his face.
“Oh absolutely, Gavin.” Hank laughs smugly.
“Affirmative.” Connor says plainly.
“Wonderful.” Gavin forces a laugh. “Let’s get moving.” He says quietly, starting the car.
He has a whole world of tension sitting in his jaw, squared in his shoulders, but it all melts away as your hand gingerly lands on his lap. His hand goes to yours, lacing his fingers into yours.
The car ride is quiet, calm, with Miles rambling about dinosaur facts, smiling and laughing louder when Connor corrects him.
“Kid’s already smarter than half the precinct.” Hank says warmly, his smile faltering ever so slightly. “He must get that from you, (Y/n). Couldn’t possibly be Gavin.” Hank laughs.
Gavin’s hands tighten around the wheel again, but he takes a breath, refusing to fall for the cheap provocation.
The car comes to a slow stop as Gavin parks.
“Alright, let’s head in.” You say, voice breaking into a groan as you get out of the car.
You take a few deep breaths bracing yourself against the car door. The car shakes slightly.
“You okay?” Gavin’s hand rubs soothing circles into your back, already out of the car and by your side.
“Yeah.” You exhale. “Just a lot.” You laugh sheepishly. “Too early to pop.” You add.
“Jesus, babe.” Gavin laughs rough and gravelly against your shoulder. “You sure you up for this?” His hand angles your face towards him.
“Yeah.” You smile, kissing his cheek. “Besides, our boy’s been talking nonstop about this.” You giggle, opening the car door.
“Daddy!” Miles whined messing with his seatbelt. “I wanna go!” He shouts getting frustrated. “I wanna go! I wanna go!” He sniffles, fat tears running down and smearing against his cheeks. He thrashes back and forth, feet swinging as he kicks his seat, hands tugging harder at the seatbelt.
“Miles.” Gavin says softly. His son looks up to him, eyes still bleary, chest rising and falling.
“Breathe with me.” He says, taking deep breaths making sure Miles does the same.
“But-“
“No buts buddy, breathe with me.” Gavin asserts.
Miles finally complies, his tantrum ending as quick as it started.
“What did we talk about?” Gavin asks softly.
“Uhm…uhhh…take deep breaths?” Miles’ brow furrows as he tries to come up with another answer.
“Exactly buddy, you got it. Because daddy,” Gavin looks over to you, still cradling your stomach, “needs us both to be calm, especially your little sibling growing inside him.” He says cupping Miles’ cheek.
“Okay Papa.” Miles murmurs nuzzling into Gavin’s hand.
Hank’s eyes widen, begrudging respect blooming for the younger hot headed alpha. He remembers his omega, his son, before he passed, before it broke him and his omega, before it severed their bond.
“What?” Gavin asks, steel in his voice as he pulls Miles out of his seat.
“Nothing. Just…” Hank sighs deeply, eyes misty, “didn’t expect you to be such a good father.” He says softly.
“You tryin’ to be funny?” Gavin nearly snarls, held back only by the tot in his arms.
“I meant it as a compliment.” The sincerity in Hank’s voice catches Gavin off guard.
He looks the aged alcoholic alpha up and down.
“Thanks…Anderson.” He says before turning around.
Connor and Hank watch as Gavin takes your hand into his, gently leading you and your son to the entrance.
“Is everything alright, Detective?” Connor asks, looking him up and down.
They both climb out of the car, the moment they close the door, the car auto-locks.
“You seem to be on edge.” He adds.
“I’m fine Connor.” Hank waves him off.
“While we’re out here, don’t call me Detective Anderson.” Hank says, walking towards you and Gavin, hands in his pocket.
Connor’s LED flashes yellow, before shifting to blue and back.
“But Detective—”
“They want a nice family outing. People hear detective, or officer, and they don’t get that.” Hank interrupts.
“Very well, Hank.” Connor manages to get out, keeping pace with Hank.
They both reach you and Gavin, just in time.
“Oh, good.” You chirp. “Here.” You hand them their tickets. “Let’s get in there.” You giggle, taking Miles’ hand and heading in.
“You’ve got a good omega.” Hank says.
“I do.” Gavin says reverently, none of the smug alpha attitude present.
Gavin jaw tightens, he looks over to Hank, expecting smug satisfaction. His head quirks, there’s nothing even remotely close to that.
Hank looks forlorn, hand ghosting over his naked ring finger. Gavin doesn’t say anything, only giving a quick nod as Hank’s eyes meet his.
“Let’s get this over with.” Gavin says pulling ahead and joining you. The smile that graces his face seems brighter than the sun.
Connor gives Hank a look, before they catch up.
“Daddy!” Miles jumps up and down, hand tugging yours. “Daddy! I wanna see the tigers!” He begs, trying and failing to pull you in their direction.
“Okay, okay, sweetie.” You laugh, following him.
“Hey Gavin, you want a… coffee or beer? Or both?” Hank offers looking away.
“Christ it’s 9am.” Gavin snorts. “Yeah. A coffee, if you don’t mind.” He says.
“Not at all.” Hank walks away.
Connor looks towards Hank, before back to you and Miles, his eyes settle on Gavin. Connor’s LED flashes yellow going back to blue, before settling down just as quickly.
He walks away over to where you’re holding Miles up to watch the tigers.
Gavin sighs, before going to your side, his arm possessively wrapping around your waist.
“They’re so big!” Miles’ hands clap together.
“Tigers are the largest wild cats in the world. An adult male can weigh over 600 pounds.” Connor says candidly.
“Weally?!” Miles gasps. “Almost as big as you, Daddy!” He adds looking right at you, hands clapping against the metal guard rail.
“Jesus, Miles…” Gavin says in disbelief.
“Gee, thanks kiddo.” You laugh, but it sounds off, your hand seems to press into your abdomen.
“That makes me feel great.” You laugh quietly, suddenly aware of how your body moves with each shift. Aware of the swell, the curve, the plush skin that holds your baby.
“Don’t take it personal, it’s exaggeration of a fact.” Connor says pragmatically.
“Children lack a social filter. They comment on the material world bluntly, regardless of how outlandish it sounds.” He adds.
“Thanks Connor.” You sigh.
“Miles,” you lean down kissing his forehead, and brushing his hair back, “Daddy has to go to the bathroom, so stay with Papa, okay?” You ask softly.
“Okay!” Miles says excitedly.
“(Y/n)…” Gavin says softly.
“I’m fine.” You say with a stressed smile. “Just need to use the bathroom.” You assure him, before walking away.
“(Y/n).” Gavin calls out, but you keep walking.
“Christ, Connor.” Gavin seethes, putting his hands over Miles’ ears. “You had to add that? You’re such a fucking plastic prick my god.” He groans.
“Woah…” Hank says coming back with two cups of coffee, “easy Gavin what did he do?” He asks.
“Daddy, I can’t hear.” Miles whines, trying to tug Gavin’s arms down.
“Miles here, little genius that he is, called (Y/n) fat, and this walking dishwasher,” Gavin nods towards Connor, “told (Y/n) not to take it personal, that it’s just fact, even if exaggerated.” Gavin growls, finally taking a cup from Hank.
“Connor.” Hank drags his hand down his face. “I don’t understand, should I have not said anything?” Connor’s LED flashes blue.
“Yes!” Gavin snaps. “You could’ve said nothing!” He snarls.
Connor’s brow furrows, his LED shifting from blue to yellow to red, before back to blue.
“Did I upset (Y/n)?” He asks, looking to Hank.
“Nooooo.” Gavin bitterly says. “What gave you that idea?” He asks, bearing his fangs.
“Connor, there’s things you don’t say, even if they’re fact.” Hank sighs, rubbing his temples. “Telling an omega they’re fat, especially when they’re pregnant, that’s a huge no-no.” He elaborates.
Connor’s LED flashes blue, spinning in quicker circles. Connor’s eyes widen. “…I upset (Y/n). I should apologize.” He murmurs, before turning around.
“Oh no you don’t.” Gavin’s hand wraps around Connor’s shoulder yanking him back hard. “You’ve done enough.” He growls.
“Hank, take Miles to the reptile exhibit. I’m gonna get (Y/n).” Gavin says, ruffling Miles’ hair.
“But Papa!” Miles whines.
“Don’t worry champ, I’m coming right back with Daddy, and then we’re gonna go see the elephants.” Gavin says excitedly.
“You promise?” Miles holds out his pinky.
“Of course.” Gavin kisses his forehead, wrapping his pinky around Miles’.
“Yeah, I’ll keep an eye on him.” Hank says, putting a hand on Miles’ head. “So little man, why don’t you tell me all about the animals here?” Hank says as he walks towards the reptiles, Connor sheepishly tagging along.
“Fuck me…” Gavin mutters taking a sip of his coffee. He goes to the concessions stand buying a few churros, before heading to the bathrooms.
“He likes sweets, should help him calm down.” Gavin thinks to himself.
“(Y/n)?” Gavin asks as he enters the family bathroom.
“(Y/n)—“ Gavin’s voice catches when he hears a sniffle.
He can smell your scent, heavy and sour with ache. He walks over to the room you’re in.
“(Y/n).” He says gently, knocking on the door.
“I’m fine, Gavin.” You manage to get out through the tears.
“No, no you’re not.” He answers. “Why don’t you let your alpha in?” He asks gently.
“I’m fine.” You say again, before your voice cracks.
“Baby…” Gavin’s forehead rests against the door, “please let me in?” He pleads.
He waits, weighing if he should coax you out with his scent, but the door unlocks.
He walks in, gently closing the door behind himself. He can feel his chest caving in.
Seeing you sat on the bench, head in your hands, a few tissues already littered on the ground.
He walks over, placing the churros down on the bench next to you.
“Sweetie…” Gavin says, wrapping his arms around you, forcing your face into the crook of his neck.
“I’m so big, Gavin.” You sniffle, pushing him away, or at least trying to.
“God, why are you with me? Do you still even want me like this?” You cry, fists gently hitting his chest.
Your tears scald Gavin’s skin as they fall.
“I’m disgusting.” You whine.
“No.” Gavin says sternly, lifting your head up with a finger under your chin.
“You’re not disgusting. You’re my loving, wonderful, handsome, beautiful omega. Growing another life inside of him.” Gavin kisses each of your bleary eyes.
“But look at me!“ You gesture to your whole body.
”I am looking at you, sweetie.” Gavin cups your cheek, hand following even as you try to pull away.
“I love you, regardless of how you look. I love you when you’re big like this, and when you’re not.” He says with fire behind his eyes.
He leans in to hold you close, you don’t push him away.
“You’re just saying that.” You half laugh-half sob, rubbing your cheek against his.
Gavin’s scent of peppercorn and leather wrap around you like a veil.
You nuzzle into him further, kissing his neck right above his scent gland.
“C’mon, babe.” Gavin pleads. “Scent me back.” He kisses your cheek again, before his thumb gently drags across wiping your tears.
“You really want people to know you’re mine?” You ask, eyes downcast.
“Yes. I’m proud to be yours.” He says softly. “If anything, you’re out of my league.” He chortles.
“I don’t know how I managed to bag such a nice, caring, man.” He murmurs.
“By being yourself.” You cup his cheek.
“That doesn’t exactly get me much friends.” He admits.
“Maybe not, but it gets you good friends.” You whisper.
You press a chaste kiss to Gavin’s lips, before rubbing your cheek against his, scenting him in your lilac and sugar aroma.
“And I mean it got you me.” You say puffing your chest out. “And I have great taste, so.” You wipe your eyes of the last tears.
“Oh?” Gavin raises an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?” He asks.
“Look at my choice in alpha.” You whisper.
Gavin’s eyes widen, before crinkling in the corners.
“You’re too good to me.” He molds his lips against yours.
“No such thing.” You giggle.
Gavin sighs dreamily, moving his hands to your stomach.
“I still can’t believe we’re doing this again.” He says kissing the swell of your stomach.
“I’m excited, I can’t wait to see if I’ll be a girl dad now.”
He stands grabbing the churros, and sitting down next to you.
“Our kids are so lucky to have a sire like you.” You lean into Gavin’s side, hands going over his.
“They’re lucky to have a father like you.” He rests his cheek against the crown of your head.
“Oh.” Gavin says perking up. “Here.” He says giving you the churros.
“I shouldn’t…I’m gonna get even bigger.” You laugh softly.
“You should. You deserve it. Besides, I’m sure our baby and my baby, could use a little sweetness in him right about now.”
Gavin’s hand rubs small soothing circles into your sides.
“I don’t know…” Your hand twitches, the sugar and cinnamon covered fried dough calls out to you.
“Mmm, eat one for me, baby?” Gavin asks.
“That’s cheating, Gav’.” You whine taking one from the baggie he’s holding.
“Don’t care.” Gavin laughs, taking one of the churros. “Gotta make sure you’re taken care of. Gotta make sure my omega stays strong and healthy, especially while he’s carrying out baby.”
Gavin groans as the sugar blooms across his tongue.
“That’s good.” You chirp, scent blooming back to its usual sweetness.
“God I can see why you love these.” Gavin eats another, sucking his fingers clean of the cinnamon-sugar mix.
“It’s my favorite thing about the zoo.” You giggle. “Or second favorite thing, I guess.” You shrug your shoulders.
“What’s your first favorite thing?” Gavin asks.
“Spending time with you and Miles.” You boop Gavin’s nose.
“You’re my favorite thing.” Gavin rubs his nose against yours.
“You think you’re good to go back?” He asks.
“Yeah.” You exhale softly. “We should get back to Miles and them, it wouldn’t be courteous to leave them with him for longer than we already have.” You say wincing as you stand up.
“Let’s get back to our boy.” Gavin stands, putting an arm around your shoulder as you both leave.
You and Gavin hold hands as you approach them in the reptile exhibit.
You smile watching as Hank parades Miles around.
Your son standing on Hank’s shoes as he takes giant steps.
Miles’ nose twitches, his head whips around to find you and Gavin.
“Daddy!” He shouts giddy, running towards you.
You kneel down, arms stretched wide.
“Oof.” You playfully groan, letting Gavin help you up.
“I missed you.” Miles nuzzles into your neck, his small chubby arms looping around your neck.
“M’sorry.” He whispers. “I didn mean it Daddy.” He adds, arms tightening. “You’re little.” He says softly.
Your eyes get misty, you take a shaky breath.
“It’s okay, buddy.” You rub your cheek against his. “I know you didn’t mean it.” You kiss his cheek.
“(Y/n).” Connor draws closer. “I said something factual—“
Connor’s LED flashes red as Hank smacks him upside his head, “but it was hurtful. I shouldn’t have said that. I apologize.” He finishes, looking to Hank sheepishly, who only shakes his head exasperated.
You put a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Thank you, Connor.” You smile softly. “I appreciate that.”
You pull away from Connor feeling Gavin’s scent starting to sharpen.
It mellows out as your hand returns to hold his.
“Since we’re all together again, Miles we owe you some elephants, don’t we?”
You tickle your son, laughing with him as he squeals.
“Yeah!” He manages to get out, before pushing your hand away.
“This way Daddy!” Miles says sprinting forward. “Miles, don’t run! Wait for us!” You call out after him but it’s too late.
“I’ll keep up with him (Y/n). You shouldn’t exert yourself so close to your delivery date.” Connor says already taking off after your energetic son.
“Thanks Connor!” You shout after him.
Gavin’s jaw ticks, his hands clenching before relaxing as he smooths his shirt.
You softly sigh, dragging your hands down your abdomen, gingerly caressing your bump.
“You good to keep going, baby?” Gavin leans down, rubbing his cheek against yours, scenting you.
“Yeah, hubby.” You put on a brave face.
Gavin huffs a laugh. “You’re such a terrible fuckin’ liar, (Y/n).”
He drags a hand down his face.
“Baby, if you’re uncomfortable you gotta say something.” He murmurs by your ear.
You giggle softly, pushing his head back, his warm breath leaving goose flesh.
“I’m gonna get you a wheelchair.” Gavin starts walking towards the help desk.
“No.” You pull him back.
“Gav’ listen, I’m fine.” You kiss him softly.
“Just a little tired. Nothing I can’t fix by sitting down for a bit and pacing myself.” You remind him.
Gavin growls, low and non-threatening.
“Don’t take that tone with me, Detective.” You drawl.
“You’re not makin’ this easy for me, sugar…” Gavin hangs his head, placing his hands on his hips.
“Yeah…well when you’re in my position we can see how easy you make it for me.” You cup his cheek, letting him kiss your palm.
Hank clears his throat.
“The fuck do you want—“
Gavin grunts as you step on his foot.
“What about you Hank? Are you good?” Gavin asks, vein in his forehead bulging.
Hank laughs, shaking his head.
“Peachy. Front-row seats to domestic bliss.” He responds.
Gavin takes two steps towards him before you pull him back and hug his arm.
“Honey, can I hold onto you while we catch up with Connor and Miles?” You bat your eyelashes.
“My back is so sore.” You groan, faking a sniffle.
Gavin’s heart swells, his earlier rage already gone.
“Yeah sweetheart anything for you.” He puffs his chest out, offering an arm immediately.
“C’mon Hank. We gotta catch up with my kid.” Gavin says.
He doesn’t respond, his small smile goes unseen as you all head towards the elephant enclosure.
You’re lost in the way Gavin’s muscles feel.
In pure omega bliss as his scent envelops you.
Safety in aces and spades, coiling around you.
You look up, meeting his eyes, when you feel Gavin stiffen.
You look over, hand over your mouth hiding the small smile.
Miles is holding onto Connor’s head, as he sits on his shoulders.
Connor’s hands wrap protectively around Miles’ calves making sure he’s properly anchored.
“Elephants can eat up to three hundred pounds of plants every day, Miles. That’s about one thousand bananas.” Connor states.
“Thas tew many banananas…” Miles makes a face.
“You dislike bananas I take it?” Connor asks, LED cycling blue.
“They’re gwoss.” Miles fake gags.
“What fruit do you like better?” Connor’s LED cycles blue once more.
“Pears! Peaches! Oranges!” Miles lists clapping his hands.
“Shhh, Gavin.” You whisper, nuzzling into his side.
“Miles is safe. Having one more person looking out for him isn’t bad.” You smile feel him relax.
“It doesn’t replace you either.” You kiss Gavin’s arm.
“He’ll meet many alphas. Uncles, aunts, cousins, family friends, etc. but he’ll always need his papa, his sire.” You say softly.
“I know.” Gavin responds quietly.
“It doesn’t make it any easier…I’ve always been like this…” Gavin murmurs.
“And I love you for it. And so does he. You just have to ease up a tiny bit.” You giggle.
Gavin sighs, arm tightening around your waist as you both approach.
“Ah (Y/n), Hank.” Connor turns, letting Miles move around so he doesn’t miss the elephants for even a second.
“Gavin.” Connor says sheepishly.
“Connor.” Gavin’s voice comes out clipped.
“I—“
“Thank you.” Gavin cuts him off.
“For keeping him safe. For staying with him.” He adds.
Connor’s LED cycles yellow.
Once.
Twice.
Before finally settling.
“No worries Gavin.” Connor’s voice is measured making sure his sincerity comes across.
Gavin tersely nods.
“You good up there, buddy?” He asks Miles.
“Papa!” Miles whips around, already trying to climb down.
Gavin smiles softly, coming over with his hands outstretched.
Miles climbs into Gavin’s arms immediately sitting on his shoulders.
“Papa—“ Miles strains, starting to tug in Gavin’s hair.
“Ow—Ow— Miles—“
“That way!” He whines, trying to pull him over closer to the guardrails.
“Miles you can’t pull on Papa’s hair like that.” You say sternly.
Miles gasps, eyes always watering.
You walk over, already wiping his tears.
“Baby, remember how much it hurt when your best friend pulled your hair?” You ask softly, kissing his forehead.
“Mmhmm.” Miles sniffles, nodding.
“Imagine how much it hurt papa when you pulled on his hair.” You say warmly.
Miles’ eyes widen, his voice hitches.
“Papa M’sorry…” Miles sniffles, rubbing his cheek against Gavin’s head, kissing his sire too.
“It’s okay miles, I know you didn’t mean it.” Gavin assures him. “Let’s get closer.”
You all approach the very edge, watching as the elephants graze.
“Oh my god look at that pair!” You whisper pointing to the family of elephants in the corner.
It’s a family of elephants. The sire looks roughed up. Ear slightly torn, face covered in scars. The other looks soft, well put together.
The rough one is soft and gentle with his mate, and their calf.
“That’s kinda like us.” Gavin snickers.
The rest of the zoo trip goes spectacularly.
You eat many of the sweets and savory foods they offer. You have to be the one to cut Gavin off from buying you another or you’d be even bigger.
By the time you’re all leaving, Miles is sleeping against your chest, face buried in your neck. Gavin has his arm around your waist, making sure you and his son are protected and scented.
Connor and Hank each hang back just a bit, making sure you and your family have your moment.
“Thank you for inviting us, (Y/n), Gavin.” Hank says as he gets into the car again.
“Don’t mention it Hank.” You chirp.
“Like actually don’t.” Gavin says. His voice breaks into a hiss as your hand makes contact with the back of his head.
Apologies for the radio silence y’all. A youngboul got sick so i’ve been bedrotting on meds. Chapter 3 of the gojo fic is in the works, and i hope to post it soon (ideally by the weekend), but we’ll see what life and college has in store for me. Ty for the patience🙏🏾
Synopsis: For as long as the Kamo clan had existed, a treaty had been in place with a certain vampire deity. In exchange for a sacrifice once every year, you would ward away bad omens from the surrounding areas. The clan had upheld this tradition without fail, yet this year, it was the black sheep’s turn. What will come of this “tainted” sacrifice?
Notes from Aeternum: Wanted to get a Kinktober post in before the month ended, and I thought up this little morsel. Choso has a soft spot in my heart, so ‘f course I had to show love.
Dividers by @cafekitsune. Please go show some support!
Choso doesn’t remember when it started.
Maybe he was cursed to this fate before he was brought into the world, god knowing that he had a future out of his control.
Born with shifting, unnatural markings and blood that ran gold instead of red, he was destined to be cast aside.
He remembers the years of trying to reach out, of longing to connect with his kin, hoping that someone would reciprocate his efforts, but not even his parents would bat an eye. Conversations would stop when he walked by, warm gazes shifting to those of disdain. Not even the maids would touch him for fear of being cursed themselves. But through all that, he would still try. Try when his relatives spit on him, when he had to forage because scraps were all that was left, even when younger clan members would hit him.
But when his cousin spent his last moments with the clan looking at him in disgust, knowing full well this would be the last time he would see him, Choso knew it would never be enough.
Now, he doesn’t bother. Not with talking, with social image—because the only thing he has left is trying to be the best sacrifice he can be, and he doesn’t need other people to do that.
The day for his sacrifice had to be chosen out of spite. The air was dense, fog so thick a person’s nose was barely visible in front of them. It doesn’t help that it rained the night before, leaving an air of melancholy about the compound.
Choso wakes up to a special soap and a ceremonial robe outside of his door. “Guess it's my time…”
Usually, the sacrifices would be assisted in bathing by maids, but the silence that greeted him when he got to the hot spring wasn’t a surprise. At least he gets to use the ceremonial bath instead of the outdoor shower he’s been relegated to since he could walk.
The warm water of the spring slips over his ivory skin, cascading down and through the years of muscle he accumulated in solitude. The soap smells of hemp and almond, and makes the markings on his body bloom and shift wildly.
He’s confused. His markings usually changed with his mood, and he doesn’t feel particularly conflicted at the moment, so what could be causing this?
The answer comes in a warmth that begins settling in the pit of his stomach, cheeks and upper body flushing as his body betrays him, toughened skin now hyper-sensitive.
Choso never bothered with self pleasure. What good would it do to becoming the best sacrifice? Now, he’s wondering why he never did. 23 years without experiencing this?
His hands map over his body with an unfamiliarity like he’s never known himself. When the pad of his index finger ghosts over a perked nipple, sparks of pleasure run down his spine, eliciting a lewd keen.
‘Why can’t I stop?’ He thinks to himself, pinching and rubbing the hardened nubs.
Wanton whines and mewls spill out of his mouth, eyes squeezing shut as if that’ll make the desire stop. He’s only halted by his legs giving out, dunking him underwater.
The sound of blood rushing through his ears graces him as he surfaces, eyes wide.
Panting, he crawls out of the bath, barely managing to put the robes on correctly before stumbling to the sanctum of the compound.
The world is spinning when he collapses in the middle of the circle of people lining the room. Through blurred vision, he sees his parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, all led in a chant by the head of the clan. An enormous mirror adorns the ceiling, leaving every square inch with a reflection. Choso blinks away the tears of pleasure, seeing the state he’s in, surrounded by his kin.
“Blood to bind, breath to call. O great (Y/N), we send thy, for it is through your grace and our reverence that we continue.” The head beseeches.
Two of his cousins step forward, one with a blindfold, the other with a dagger. The cousin with the dagger acts first, harshly gripping each of his wrists, slashing a clean line through both of his palms.
A yelp of pain is what should’ve escaped his mouth, but instead, a shameless wail of pleasure warbles out of his throat, gold blood flowing onto intricate designs on the floor he didn’t notice before.
Before he can witness any more, the other cousin roughly ties the blindfold around his eyes. The removal of one of his senses heightens all of the others tenfold, leaving him prey to all the stimuli he could barely resist before.
The clan watches in nervous anticipation as his golden life-force meets itself, completing the magic circle.
Nothing happens.
Gasps echo around the room as the clan look at each other frantically.
“He was supposed to be teleported there by now!” One says, whispering harshly. “What will come of us now?!” Another cries out.
So he really was cursed, huh?
Through the unrelenting pleasure he’s feeling, a bitter laugh escapes him, tears threatening to wet the blindfold. “So they were right-” He’s cut off by a glow that blinds him through the blindfold, accompanied by a pulse of pleasure in his lower abdomen.
Another cry of pleasure ripples through him as the clan members watch in bewilderment as you manifest in front of Choso, gazing down at him with wild eyes.
“What is the meaning of this?! (Y/N) has never appeared before!” The head of the clan screams, backing up in fear. You pay him no mind, leaning down and picking up Choso, resting him against your chest. One strong hand rests on his waist, the other coming up to cup his cheek. You feel him tremble under your touch as you remove the blindfold.
Choso’s never seen such a beautiful person.
Your skin is a glowing milk chocolate, accented by a birthmark on your cheek and red eyes that almost light up the room. Delicate curls fill an afro that can only be described as perfect. His wide eyes fall downward, now noticing the sharp fangs that are digging into your plump lips—exposing your barely contained restraint.
You wear a knitted turtleneck and dress pants that must be custom tailored.
Jesus Christ. Is that a cock in your pants or a stalk of bamboo?
“Ah ah.. My eyes are up here, little bloodbag.” You whisper, tilting his chin back up with your thumb.
Fuck, why do you have to be so tall too? Choso is by no means small, but it almost feels like his 6’3 doesn’t matter when you tower over him this easily.
“O great one. Please forgive us for providing such a low quality sacrifice-” “Silence”
Your rich, alluring voice reverberates around the room, filling their ears and infiltrating their very beings. The head of the clan squeaks, fear paralyzing him.
“You all don’t even know what he is, do you?” You query, staring the clan members down.
One person musters up the courage. “He’s cursed!” They shout, other members finding their voices now. “Yeah! His blood is gold, he’s a tainted sacrifice!” One of Choso’s aunts yells.
“Did I not say silence?” You thunder, voice icy. Your expression breaks into one of rage, eyes sharpening. Your gaze moves back to Choso, who’s panting into your chest, inhaling your scent—hemp and almond.
“Have they always treated you like this, my prize?” You whisper, cupping his face with both hands now. Choso blinks away the haze in his vision, hands resting softly on top of yours. “Mhm..” He nods, rubbing his cheek on your palm. “What would you like me to do about it?”
Choso looks—really looks at those he’s had to call family for his entire life. He tries to recall a positive memory with them, but none pop up.
He hides his face back in your turtleneck. “Don’t wanna see them.” He stammers, gasping when your hands go back to holding his hips through the thin robe.
A feral smile expands across your face, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light of the sanctum.
“Close your eyes for me, starlight.” You say, stepping back from Choso. He obliges, looking down.
“Now just wait a second-” The clan head tries to get out, but you’re already upon him.
Your claws decapitate his head cleanly, body falling to the ground with a loud thunk. The rest of the members watch in horror as blood pools around your feet, seeing you lick the blood off of your claws.
“Peugh. Gross…” You mumble, before teleporting to the next victim.
The sanctum erupts in chaos as everyone runs to avoid your wrath, but it’s of no use. You tear one person’s heart out, biting another with your fangs and draining them dry. Dumping the bodies on the ground, you rush to the next one.
Choso hears it all, from the muffled grunts of the old to the wails of the young. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but he feels the coldness of your hands on his face once more after some time.
“Good boy. You can open your eyes now~” You coo, helping him to his feet.
A spark of twisted pleasure spreads in his brain when he sees the fate of his former clansmen. Blood paints the wall like abstract art, headless bodies occupying floorspace like a shitty bear rug. He spots a younger cousin that hit him for hours once, eyes lifeless, innards splayed across his gaping chest. He wants to feel a little remorse, at least for a life cut short, but all he musters is a satisfied chuckle.
Your cold body slots in behind him, strong arms wrapping around his body.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” You murmur into his ear, licking the shell. “Y-Yeah..” He musters out, body fluttering at the wet appendage.
Turning him to face you, you gaze at him reverently.
“What’s your name, my ichor?” You croon, staring at him with those hypnotic red eyes.
“C-Choso…” He gasps, feeling your hands splaying and exploring his body. “Mmm… Such a pretty name for a pretty prize.” You bring one of his hands up, licking the dried golden essence. Your eyes glow even brighter, growls rumbling in your throat as you lap up every molecule of blood. Choso whimpers and pants, body still sensitive from the special bath. The mark on his nose warps from the black bar to thin lines over his nose and eyes, before flashing back to the bar, then the spiked version. You, ever the observant being, notice.
“Oh? Someone likes this. Nasty slut~” You purr, spinning and pulling his back flush against your chest.
His head spins, cheeks ripening as a lewd moan escapes him. That feral grin graces your face again, hand splaying over his lower abdomen as you whisper something in an ancient tongue.
Choso’s eyes widen as otherworldly pleasure sprawls through his body. It pulses, ceaseless and intense—he almost doubles over, only held up by your strong hands. He glances down, eyes widening as he sees a large mark scrawled across him. It pulses and glows in time with the bolts of pleasure racing to every nerve ending.
“I own you now, and you’re never leaving me~” You croon, tapping the sigil, sending even more pleasure through him. Your onyx hands trapeze up his body, ripping the robes apart and leaving him bare before your hungry gaze.
Choso’s hands try to hide himself, deep blush stretching across his face.
“Ah ah ah, none of that. Let me see you.” You drawl, using one hand to hold both of his above his body. Your fingers trace around his nipples, pinching and rolling the buds between the pads.
Keens and mewls roll off his tongue, arching into your touch.
“More.. need more~” He whines, tears dotting his lashes as he looks back at you oh so prettily.
Your grin stretches, grabbing his chin and kissing him with fervor. You suck and nip at his lips, gasping into the messy kiss. You spank him, his mouth opening in a moan as you slip your longer tongue into his wet cavern. Sweet—like cream dango. You can’t get enough, slurping up his noises. You rub over the tender spot before kneading his plush rear, coaxing more noises out of him.
His cock strains and bobs in the cold air, dripping onto the blood-stained floor, mixing into a filthy, sinful mess.
“Needy boy needs to cum?” You hum, wrapping a large hand over his member.
Choso cries out, precum spilling onto your fingers as his dick throbs in your hand fervently. You stroke him, pulling him back into your clothed member, hard and heavy in your pants.
“Feel that? I’m going to split you open.” You growl, stroking him faster.
The warmth in his stomach begins to twist into something new, something that he instinctively knows will make him fall apart in your possessive hold. His moans grow higher pitched, more needy—you feel it in the way his body tenses and his cock throbs incessantly.
He's so close, body bowing deliciously as he reaches the peak, mouth opening in a silent squeal—then you stop.
A broken cry erupts from him, tears flowing now from the ruined orgasm as he stares back at you, pouting.
“So mean… need it so bad.” He chokes out, hands reaching behind to palm your hefty length.
“You’re gonna have to be more specific Cho. What do you need?” You smirk, knowing exactly what you’re doing.
He whines, reaching for your clothed cock again, but you stop him.
“Words, ichor.” You chide, forcing him to look at you again.
He sniffs, nose marking blooming as more tears of pleasure threaten to fall down from his lashes.
“Need.. yer’ cock. Need it so bad…” Choso cries out, grinding back into your dick.
A snarl escapes your throat, de-manifesting your clothes as you shove him to the floor. You’re on him in an instant, spreading apart his cheeks to look at the pink hole winking back at you. You waste no time, long tongue lapping at his entrance. His cries and keens of pleasure spur you on, spearing your tongue into him, lapping at his gummy walls.
You reach up, holding your fingers in front of his mouth for him to suck. He obliges, drenching your long appendages in his saliva. He watches through blurred vision as you add the fingers with your tongue, stretching him for the inevitable. You peek at him through your afro, crimson eyes glowing as you smile into his hole, kissing it once before getting on your knees. You spit in your palm, lubing up your lengthy cock before nudging the fat head against his entrance.
“Count down for me.” You grit out, placing one hand around his throat.
“Three-” A scream of pain-pleasure echoes around the room as your member spears into his tight cavern. He has no time to catch his breath before he feels your fangs pierce his neck, the sound of you slurping his golden essence loud in his ear. An airy squeal escapes him, back arching deliciously as his cock spurts rope after rope. His gooey hole clenches and pushes back against your member, making you groan into his neck.
His blood was otherworldly. Sweet, hot, filled with vital essence only a deity could have. His stupid clan was right about one thing, Choso was not normal—he was yours.
Eons ago, when the pitiful people were still establishing themselves, you had taken him as your lover, marked him with golden, divine blood so that you could always find him, no matter the era. You had lost him once to time—you would not let it happen again, you had waited too long for him to return.
Your thrusts are brutal, girthy cock bullying his syrupy, velvety walls as pelvis meets ass over and over—wet, nasty plaps and slurps coming from your nether regions as his hole grips and tugs on your enormous member, refusing to let it leave its hot embrace. Your full, virile balls smack against his perineum, leaving him wondering just how much spunk you’d dump in his hole
You pull off his neck with a pwah, panting heavily as your eyes pulse, watching the honeyed lifeforce drip down his collarbone like syrup.
Fuck… Fuck. You’ve never been as turned on as now, watching your little love fall apart from your fangs.
“Pain slut, you like that huh? Do you, starlight?” You growl, bullying your cock into his prostate. You mark him up with a possessive fury, dark, mottled hickeys and fang marks adorning his neck and back.
Choso’s brain melts out of his ears when you grip him by his messy buns, spanking his ass in time with your thrusts, eliciting wanton, slutty moans out of his mouth. Your seal on his tummy pulses, Choso’s cock spurting out another weak load as his legs give out, leaving him laying in a pool of blood mixed with his bodily fluids.
The sight is debaucherous, vile, everything unholy, and you fucking love it.
“take it take it TAKE IT” You shout out, losing yourself in the feeling of his syrupy hole. “Fuck, cumming-” You grit your teeth, slamming home with a final brutal thrust right at his prostate before letting a torrent of white hot cum paint his walls. Choso can feel it in his stomach, belly rounding from the sheer volume of it all. You pant out against his neck, kissing and licking over his nape before sinking in your fangs again. Stars burst behind his eyelids as his consciousness floats off somewhere else, overwhelmed by the sensations wracking his body.
Choso vaguely registers you flipping the positions, before a smack to his dick summons him back to the world of the living.
“Look up. Watch how I ruin you.” You growl, now beneath him.
You thrust upward, watching how your member distends his tummy, leaving a bulge where your cock carves out space. Choso watches as it moves up, down, up, down, the deepest point stretching the sigil on his lower abdomen.
How is his body taking that much?
You splay a hand over it, pushing down. Needy, overstimulated whines bubble from his mouth, eyes squeezing shut.
“None of that, keep looking.” You squeeze his cock harshly, thrusting in time with his bounces.
“Disgusting cumdump, getting off on me ruining you for anyone else. Covered in the blood of your family, have you no shame?” You taunt, meeting his gaze through the mirror.
Choso cries out, bouncing faster, chasing the high that shatters him time and time again. You watch, shifting your gaze from the mirror to the way your chocolate girth disappears into his messy hole over and over, reemerging slicker and harder than before.
“Cum for me, Choso” Your voice pounds in his skull. What could he do but obey?
Choso watches himself fall apart on your cock, the last spurts of cum shooting weakly from his member, splattering across your muscles like abstract art.
You hiss as his walls convulse around your dick, trying to milk you. Flipping him so that he lays down on the floor, you plunge into him again, fucking him with a gentleness that belies your violent nature. Choso wraps his arms and legs around you weakly, kissing your neck as you bite and suck on his chest, reveling in the sensation of his now sloppy hole.
“One more f’me.” You whisper, gazing at him from behind your disheveled afro. “Can’t~!” He cries out, feeling your tongue flick his pert nipples. “Oh but you can, and you will, won’t you?”
The pleasure doesn’t let up—dick still sliding in and out lovingly as you continue your assault on his upper body.
The coil in his stomach is more pain than pleasure at this point, but it snaps all the same. Tears run down his face as he dry-orgasms, shaking uncontrollably, You moan, thrusting one last time as you drain what’s left into his awaiting hole, before sinking your fangs into his neck once more. Black dots dance across his vision as he watches you pull off of him in the mirror. Your cock slips out, a waterfall of cum sliding out of his gaped hole as well.
You kiss him gently, picking him up princess-style and walking with him over to the magic circle. Your chest is cold, but it’s the warmest thing he’s ever felt. Light glows around the both of you as you use your magic to transport you back to your domain.
“Sleep now, I'll never let you leave me again, my ichor.”
Chapter Synopsis: While your management understands your strife, they still have to do something about the incident, stunting any chances of promotions or raises in the near future. Needing to clear your head, you go to a cafe, only to run into Satoru again. He begins popping up everywhere–unexpected and unrelenting. Do you have a solution?
Word Count: ~3.6k
Content Warning: A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Satoru Gojo x Powerbottom!Omega!Black!Male Reader, Strangers to Lovers, Angst, Major Character Injury, Yuji x Megumi mentions, Satoru is the head of an illegal arms dealing family, male reader is a botanist, both are dominant variants, Smut (MDNI), Mpreg. Hopefully that’s all. Lmk what I missed!
Notes from Aeternum: Part 2! I actually went back and added some details in the first chapter that you'll see in this chapter. I also reformatted how these posts look, so give me some feedback on what you think. Lastly, I do have an AO3 account now where I'll post these chapters. Definitely not as meticulously formatted as these ones, but im still going to put some effort in them. I think that's all the news... Enjoy!
Chapter 1... Chapter 2 (Here)... Chapter 3...
Dividers by @cafekitsune. Please go show some support!
You sigh, looking at the email in your inbox.
From: Upper Management
Subject: RE: (dd/mm/yr) Incident
Good Morning (Y/N),
Thank you for the transparent and honest communication regarding the altercation yesterday. We have since received reimbursement for the damages, and a reasonable settlement on top of that from their legal team. However, it is still in the best interest of the institution to put you on administrative leave. Several onlookers witnessed your outburst, so as to maintain the image of the gardens…
The rest of the paragraph blurs into a blob as you slump back in your desk chair. You can’t say you didn’t expect the outcome, but the result is irritating nonetheless.
Why you? You know you have a small habit of letting your mouth run before your brain catches up… But he deserved it! Can anyone really blame you?
You’re broken out of your melancholy by the sound of your door opening.
Sandalwood and melon invade your nose.
‘Yuji’, you think absentmindedly, hearing footsteps make their way closer towards you.
“Is my little bro okay?” He coaxes, picking you up from underneath your armpits.
“I got put on administrative leave.” You say tersely, staring blankly at Yuji through your dreads, dangling in his hold like a cat.
A frown tugs at his features before they soften again, setting you down gently and enveloping you in a hug.
“Im sorry to hear that (Y/N).” He consoles, blooming his scent around the both of you. Yours react briefly before you withdraw them, pushing away from his hold lightly.
“‘M gonna go clear my head…” You murmur, tying up your dreads and walking out of your room. The house is quiet, save for your small footsteps that echo off of the walls of the hallway. Passing by Ryomen’s home office, you cast a glance inside, seeing him nose deep in whatever work he does, glasses on, brow furrowed as he types away on his keyboard.
You’re about to continue walking, but he stops you before you can.
“C’mere.” He sighs, looking up from the monitor.
You groan, expecting a lecture, but walk into the room nonetheless.
You go around the side of the desk, looking at him impatiently.
Ryomen studies your face for a moment, before reaching for his wallet and pulling out a shiny black card.
“Go treat yourself.” He mutters, voice lacking the usual nagging tone he’d have with you.
The strict eldest brother, the permanent scowl, The Ryomen Itadori, is treating you with his black card?
Maybe God is real.
A grin breaks across your face as you jump at him, his eyes widening.
“Wait-!” He chokes out, instinctively wrapping his arms around you before crashing to the floor in his office chair.
“Ack- Did you really need to do…” He trails off, stopping when he sees the pure smile on your face.
It was radiant. The kind of smile that reaches your eyes and warms up the room.
Your chocolate skin glows as laughter bubbles out of your mouth, new life breathed into you. Ryomen hasn’t seen you this happy since you’ve been with Naoya. His teeth grit just thinking about the bastard. The day you came home after he broke your heart, he almost burned the world down.
You had smelled of nothing, trudging like a soulless robot up to your room. When Yuji, Megumi, and him had followed you in, he found you collapsed in your nest unresponsive.
Never had he felt such fear.
And when you came to in a hospital bed, wailing at the memories flooding back of what he’d done…
Ryomen had never felt such rage.
A loud, full-bodied purr shakes him out of his thoughts, looking down at your smile once more.
“Does my money really make you that happy?” He questions, feigning annoyance.
“You take me for a gold digger?” You accuse, making an offended face before laughing and smiling again.
“Im just happy at the gesture of you wanting me to be happy.” You chirp, brushing dreads from your face.
Rolling off of him, you stand and help your brother back up—not without calling him old of course, but Ryomen thinks he can deal with it if he gets to see his precious brother smile again.
“I’ll bring you and Yuji something back!” You beam, walking out of his office and out of the multi-story penthouse.
Soooo… you might’ve lied about bringing something back to them.
You’d been wandering around the city for a while now, trying to figure out something to do with the newfound wealth in your pocket.
Blowing a pink loc out of your face, your eyes scan your surroundings once more before spotting a random cafe.
‘Sendai Sweets?’ You think to yourself. “Eh, looks good enough, might as well.” You mutter, walking towards the establishment.
The interior is cozy. Warm lighting, tasteful fauna, and comfortable looking seating choices. While the store is quiet now, you’re sure that during certain hours, it’s the most popular in the area.
Your thoughts are broken by a cheery looking omega that greets you by the counter.
“Hi! Welcome to Sendai Sweets! What can I get you today sir?” They ask in a lively tone.
“Hi! It’s my first time here, so surprise me with something you think I'd like!” You exclaim.
“Hmm…” They grumble, taking a long, hard look at you. “Ah!” They conclude. “I know just what your drink is. Consider it on the house~” They smirk walking back to their workstation to make your drink.
The beverage is completed in no time, and as you go to pick it up, you notice it's a bright sky blue. Your ebony cheeks burn, the color practically identical to a certain dominant alpha’s eyes.
Your pheromones flare as embarrassment washes over you. Looking away as you pick up the drink, you hope your dreads hide your expression.
“Judging by your reaction, I hit my mark~” The barista teases, wiggling their eyebrows. “Enjoy~!”
You whisper a thanks, walking back to your beanbag before slumping into it.
You cover your face, skin feeling entirely too warm as you recall how many things remind you of him now.
The bottle of creamer in the fridge—Yuji had looked at you like you were crazy when the fridge door slammed shut. The color of a flower in the background of a photo Megumi sent from the lab—hell, even the clear sky today reminds you of him.
You take a sip of the drink, a breathy sigh escaping you.
It's peppermint. Why would it be anything else?
The door chime echos and your ears perk up.
Your inner omega recognizes it before you do. ‘Alpha’s here!’ It howls in your head.
Your eyes widen as you place your gaze on Satoru. Gone is the starched and pressed polo and crisp pants, instead replaced with an all-too-soft looking hoodie, and a pair of grey sweats.
He looks up at the menu while stretching, and your eyes drift to his midriff.
I thought they stopped carving Greek statues?
Your eyes are glowing a hypnotizing shade of (e/c) as you drool at the muscled frame teasing your vision.
“Hi, can I do my usual?” Satoru asks the worker.
“Of course Mr Gojo! Tap when you’re ready. It'll be out in a few.” The omega responds.
Satoru taps his card, leaving a hefty tip before turning and stopping when he catches a whiff of your pheromones. His eyes blaze looking for yours, pheromones instinctually trying to reach out to yours.
When your eyes finally meet, the rest of the world melts away.
He hasn’t washed that polo since you bumped into him, and the fading scent has only made him more antsy. A low croon threatens to bubble out of his throat, but your quick movement snaps him out of his trance.
“Wait-” He tries to call out, but you’re gone before he can say something.
Satoru sighs, eyes going back to the beanbag you were sitting on. Before he can stop himself, he finds himself curled up in where you just were. His inner alpha purrs and yips, finally in the presence of its omega again.
The worker watches the interaction from the counter, a fond expression on their face.
“I give ‘em 2 weeks.” They mutter to themselves, shaking their head as they finish getting Satoru’s order ready.
So that moment wasn’t an invitation for him to show up everywhere in your life?
Ever since that time in the shop, you can’t seem to go somewhere without him being there too. Flower shop? He “just so happens” to need to buy a bouquet. The motorcycle dealership when you’re browsing for another sports bike? “Looking for a gift for his brother.”
The final straw is when you dip into an alley to throw away a gum wrapper one afternoon and lo and behold, he happens to pop out of a side entrance, pretending to look at his phone.
You move before you even think, slamming him into the brick, hands fisting the collar of his shirt while your legs keep him pinned and immobilized. The phone, still unlocked, flies out of his hand onto the concrete ground.
Satoru’s hands instinctually reach for his gun before your scent registers in his brain. ‘My Omega’, he thinks, a dopey grin gracing his face as he looks down at you.
“Is this some kind of sick joke to you?” You snap, pressing him into the brick wall even harder.
“I see you everywhere, and now everything reminds me of you and your stupid mug. You’ve got my attention. Are you happy?” You jab.
Your eyes pulse behind your strawberry dreads, now covering your face messily from your harsh movements.
All Satoru can think is that his omega is so strong, so feisty, so… perfect. The only one for him.
You remind him of an angry kitten, eliciting a laugh out of him.
“What are you laughing at? This isn’t funny asshole.” You snarl.
“Sorry sorry… It's just that my omega looks so cute right now I couldn’t help it.” Satoru croons, absolutely smitten as he looks down at you with those bright blue eyes.
Your brain short-circuts, steam pouring out of your ears as you register what insanity he just said.
You feel his hands slot on your hips a little too well, like your waist was designed with them in mind. Your own hands slowly let go of his shirt, face burning as his scent of peppermint, ozone, and vanilla envelops the both of you.
You so desperately want to pull away, to slap him for all that’s happened to you because of him, but your body won’t let you. Your inner omega screams at you to let it happen, soaking up all the attention from the alpha it’s already claimed as its own.
You stammer, trying to get anything to come out of your mouth, but all that resonates in the narrow alley is a small squeak.
You force yourself to move away, Satoru’s hands chasing their purchase on your body as your own cover your chocolate face.
“No shade… but ‘your omega’ is crazy considering we haven’t even talked properly.” You mumble, peeking at him from behind your hands.
“So let me.” Satoru breathes, closing the gap between you two again.
You gotta give it to him, he’s quick on his feet, and that little moment might’ve been just enough.
You both stare into each other's eyes for a moment–pupils blown.
Fuck it.
You flip your positions with surprising strength, pinning Satoru down once more.
“On my time,” You begin, tilting his head down with a finger. “On my terms…” You drawl, sliding another finger down the center of his chest, squatting sultrily to pick up the phone. “And at my tempo.” You utter, putting in your contact info.
“382 XX Street, 8pm sharp. Dress comfy, and don't be late.” You whisper in his ear, before slinking away and out of the alley.
A beat passes before Satoru finally takes a breath. His hands tremble, one going to cover his mouth, the other clutching the phone like a lifeline.
In it, a new chat started. The name (Y/N) sits at the top like it owns him.
(Y/N)... (Y/N)... (Y/N).
Satoru couldn’t imagine a name more fitting for you.
His breathing is erratic, sharp intakes and exhales resounding against the narrow passage.
The tips of his ears and the peaks of his cheeks are tinged red, and he can almost taste the remnants of your scent in the air.
He hopes you didn’t notice the wet spot that formed in his pants.
You giggle in the elevator up to the family penthouse, practically vibrating with excitement as you stare down at the messages on your screen. It's cute to see him so worked up.
6:11pm
Satoru: 382 XX Street right?
Satoru: I promise this’ll be worth your time
Satoru: Can’t wait to see you
Read 6:13pm
Y/N: So needy
Read 6:13pm
Y/N: I'm excited to see you too
Sent 6:14
You smile at your phone gently as you walk into the penthouse, pheromones warm and soft. You don’t notice the frowns on your brothers faces as you make your way up the stairs to your room to get ready.
You shower with deliberate slowness, making sure every inch of your ebony skin is clean before drying yourself and moisturizing. Choosing clothes, you decide on a cropped hoodie and some cute shorts, tying back your strawberry dreads into a messy ponytail.
You’re humming to yourself as you make your way to the bottom of the stairs, turning to the main entrance, but stop when Ryomen clears his throat behind you.
“And where do you think you’re going?” He asks with a pointed gaze.
“Oh, uh… going out bowling with Yuji?” You mumble, not meeting his eyes. “Wanna try again?” Yuji grunts, walking out from around a pillar.
“Okay so like what is this? Why do I need to tell you my whereabouts?” You counter, getting defensive.
Yuji and Ryomen maintain their distance, but their gazes don’t get any less scrutinizing.
“We know you’re talking to Satoru. We told you to stay away from him-” Ryomen gets cut off.
“And why do I have to listen to you? You’re acting like I'm not a grown person that can make their own decisions! My business is my business!” You snap, bearing your fangs at them.
Why was it always like this? They get to keep their stupid secrets and you have to show your entire agenda, just because they’re “being protective”.
“Why do I have to spill every little thing to you two? You guys are so paranoid and secretive sometimes that I feel like I barely know my own brothers!”
“How so? Secrets are secrets, Ryomen.” You question, tilting your head in mock confusion.
“(Y/N), we just don't want a repeat of Naoya-” Yuji interjects, trying to place a hand on your shoulder.
“DON’T SAY HIS FUCKING NAME!” You roar, swiping your now clawed hands at him.
Yuji’s eyes widen, hissing as watches blood drip from the lacerations. He looks to Ryomen, who’s at a loss for words, eyes just as wide as Yuji’s own.
Even in the biggest of disagreements, you had never screamed at them, much less hurt them.
Your pheromones, sweet cream and matcha, which had been slowly souring over the course of the argument plummet into the most curdled, bitter and burnt scent a dominant omega could produce, eyes blazing like an inferno.
Tears fill your full lashes as you clench your teeth, hands trembling with rage.
“Don’t… say his name.” You whisper.
The silence surrounding the three of you is suffocating, but Yuji and Ryomen can’t bring themselves to break it.
You silently make your way over to the main entrance, picking up your motorcycle keys and riding gear, and cast one last glance back to your brothers who’re stuck to their spots before slamming the door.
A framed picture of the three of you from years before falls to the ground, glass shattering on impact.
Satoru sits nervously at a booth, fidgeting with the bouquet of orange zinnias he got for you. Truthfully, he arrived 30 minutes before, anxious about making a good impression. Did his hair look good? Was a crewneck overdressing? Did his face break out on the ride over here?!
A shaky exhale leaves him as he sets down the bouquet, burying his head in his arms. Why was an omega making him feel like this? He’d never been one for long term relationships with people, much less romantically. Too much at risk—entirely too much to lose. His heart still hurts whenever his mind goes back to watching his entire family get gunned down at 15.
Satoru is pulled from his thoughts when he hears the sound of a sports bike coming to a stop outside of the restaurant. Before he can wonder who it is, you walk through the door.
Ah, now he remembers why he feels like this.
Your chocolatey skin glows under the soft lighting, coral locs slightly tousled by the helmet now resting against your hip. Your face is healthy—full, yet sharp in the right places. Your eyes… such an alluring shade of (e/c). His eyes trail down, mouth running bone dry as they devour the sight of your smooth, taut stomach.
“Oh my god…” He utters to no one in particular. He almost forgets to blink, and when he does, his heart leaps out of his chest when he finds you’re standing in front of him, smirking.
“Hi stalker man~” You tease, sitting down in the opposite booth.
A deep blush covers his face as he hides behind his hands. “S-Sorry, all of my rationality kinda went out the window when I met you…” He whispers.
‘Cute’ You muse, smiling softly. Seeing such a progenitor of the dominant alpha reduced to a stammering, jumpy little mess stirs something primal in you.
You can tell he’s nervous, eyes looking everywhere but yours.
“Satoru.” You coax, taking his hands into your smaller ones. “Breathe.” You smile, releasing some calming pheromones.
You watch his eyes finally meet yours, pupils dilating as he inhales your scent.
“You back with me? You croon, releasing his hands.
“Yeah, uh… sorry about that.” Satoru says sheepishly.
Your eyes travel over to the bouquet on the table. “Zinnia elegans.” You blurt out, botanist brain activated. “Represents strength, endurance, and long life. How bold of you~”
Despite your joking remarks, a genuine grin stretches your melanated skin.
“I thought it was poetic. You’re very strong, both in body and mind…” Satoru retorts playfully, gaining back some of the confidence you saw when you first met him.
Sensing that the mood had been calmed, you flagged down a waiter, ordering a round of apps and drinks for the two of you.
“Do I get a say in what we have?” Satoru voices, looking up at you from his menu.
“Mm… nah. If you want this going any further, your palette is getting trained.” You snicker, setting down the menu and toying with the hem of your cropped hoodie.
Conversation comes easy once the food and drinks arrive, and the anger and hurt you were suppressing melted away into something warm and fuzzy in your gut.
You enjoy watching him gingerly try each dish you put in front of him, sharing occasionally when it's something you really like.
Was ordering him oxtail shoving him straight into the deep end? Yes. Did it need to happen? Also yes.
By the end of the date, you both are a couple drinks in, bellies full, and enjoying the comfortable silence.
“Could you really not s’me when you bumped into me?” You slur, giggling intermittently at nothing as you pay the tab and walk out beside him.
“Was jus’ bein mean. Defense mechanism. M’sorry~” Satoru replies back sadly, tipsy, but handling his liquor better than you.
You smile at him, pulling him close by the arm and tucking your face into his chest.
“We can work through that.” You say, regaining some clarity, looking back up at him from your position.
“I wanna go to yours, pleaseee? ‘M too drunk to ride back, ‘n I don’t feel like seeing my brothers anyway right now, ‘m still angry at them.” You plead, hands resting on his chest now.
His breath hitches as he looks down at you, committing every detail to memory.
“Yeah. That’d be nice if you’re okay with that.” Satoru breathes out.
He calls his chauffeur–because of course he has one, sobering up quickly as his body shields you—protecting his omega.
A sleek Rolls Royce glides to a stop in front of the two of you quickly, and he helps you in before getting in behind you. You vaguely hear Satoru talking to the driver, ‘Ijichi, another beta’ cataloguing it away for later.
The cityscape glides by quietly, slowly fading into even quieter suburbs. You would’ve fallen asleep if not for Satoru occasionally rubbing patterns on your exposed midriff.
When the car finally stops, you’re in front of the steps of a lavish mansion. Your eyes drift to the metal gates around the perimeter, before landing back on Satoru, who offers you a hand.
“Shall we?” He queries, a small grin on his face.
“After you… I like to watch~” You croon, eyes lidding as you take the hand leading you into the estate.
Welcome! For those who don't know about omegaverse in general, look at this.
Additions, Changes, and Clarifications in my verse (Last updated 4.30.26):
Dominant Variations: Touched on briefly in the attached link, but in addition to the information listed, dominant variants will have eyes that glow, generally have sharper teeth and fangs, and possess an alpha/omega voice. My verse also denotes that they have much more powerful pheromones than normal alphas or omegas, which can overwhelm the senses of people. So much so that the most powerful of them can launch a regular omega/alpha into a heat or rut. There’ll be no submissive subgender as frankly, it's kind of a pain to write and muddies the lines between a normal subgender with weaker pheromones/traits, and a completely different variation. I will also make clear indications to these features so im not directly saying dominant alpha all the time.
Alpha/Omega Voice: A command tone that can be used by Dominant Alphas and Omegas. They evoke complete submission in the recipient of the command. Unless mated or courting, it’s seen as completely taboo to use otherwise. (This will be written in bold in fics.)
Alpha’s knots are at the *base, not head of member (This is how everyone writes it, not sure if it’s a typo). They also don’t strictly have to be taller than everyone else, though most alphas are quite tall.
Betas can detect pheromones, and also produce their own. Theirs however, are neutral, inoffensive scents, and like mentioned are not affected by alpha and omega pheromones. In turn, they’re very good mediators, and generally have a cool head about them.
Concerning male omegas in particular, the anatomy of the reproductive system is like mentioned in the link, where the hole is stretchier for the accommodation of a large alpha member + knot. However, the specifics of anatomy in this verse is that the “vaginal” canal is the primary canal when you stick it up the butt. The “anal” cavity, if you will, is connected by way of it being right at the entrance of the vaginal cavity, letting them perform all the bodily functions necessary. Male omegas can give birth through their vaginal canal, or choose to have a C-Section, though the latter is not recommended as it has a lower rate of survival for the omega, and only really is used if there are complications during pregnancy. Here’s a helpful diagram (NSFW).
Pheromone Showers: a person (typically an alpha) blooms their pheromones with the intent of dousing the other in their scent. Most often seen as a courting gesture, however, can be done from a familial point as well, though much less common.
Drop: Refers to an Omega Drop. A drop happens when an omega experiences prolonged stress and anxiety, causing them physical and mental anguish. They faint, and can be out of consciousness from anywhere from an hour or two to multiple days depending on the severity. In particularly severe cases, a drop can transition into a sleep state, in which an omega is rendered into a coma by their inner omega for their safety, but won't wake up.
