Omega!Robert: Huh, poor kid - oh. Milk. That's new. Guess that's something else I have to deal with.
Prev.
Poor mans gonna have to invest in bra pads, a breast pump, bottles, and then try to figure out what to do with the results. XD
I do be peeking at omegaverse stories that have the "Pack/Den Omega" lactate due to hormonal stuff + in case there's any pups to feed.
If we go by irl wolf dynamics, the Den Omega would be the "Mom" of the group. Other omegas can exist in the same pacm, but the Den Omega is the head honcho.
Robert's weird body chemistry has decided that he's the Z-Team's Den Omega.
He learns this while the team were on lunch break. They pretty much dragged him out of the office to go to a nice cafe nearby. While there, he overhears a baby a table over start fussing.
And his instincts light up like a christmas tree.
With visible results.
Live Z-Team (mostly Sonar and Visi) reaction:
As Waterboy politely wraps a towel around him, Robert isn't sure if he should be mortified or curious. He honestly had no idea his body could do that. Even more surprising was that the Z-Team's combined dynamic was conspiring to make Robert the Den Omega of their patchwork pack.
a beta reader thats a little grossed out by the thought of drinking from their alpha's tits but their alpha is in rut so unfortunately reader is not getting a choice :/ better luck next time
“this is my formal request for a new lactation piece for this years kinktober. I am BEGGING. PLEASE. I can’t find much anywhere so if you have any other recs I would appreciate it too“
tags: levi x reader, smut, lactation, implied pregnancy, stretch marks mention, brief mommy + baby/good boy mention, levi carries reader to bed, fem!reader
word count: 1500
A/N: Thank you for the request, anon! I have not seen other lactation fics, so please forgive me for linking my own: 1 // 2. Others, please feel free to comment more below!
In your current state, so persistently fatigued, it was rare that you joined him in insomnia. In that way, maybe it was to blame - the afternoon nap that bled into evening. Just as you were waking up, the sun had gone to bed.
Levi had carried you from the couch to your bedroom. Though he strove not to wake you, you began to stir halfway through the hallway: creaky wooden panels beneath his careful feet. A brief flinch as you came to: arms and legs clung to him with a short shriek.
Your fingertips pressed to the back of his neck, making your lover shudder one moment after you. “H’Hey,” Thankfully, you were not awake enough to catch his initial stutter. Levi cupped his hands around you tighter, thumb gave a few soothing strokes, “you alright?”
You scrunched your face and rubbed your eyes, a wide but silent yawn. Cute. Humming, “Yeah… I’m alright.” After a few blinks, you met his eye contact, “What time is it?”
Vision hazy, but you could have sworn you caught a smile, “It’s the weekend, it doesn’t matter.”
Hours later, as you stared up at the ceiling, the words he laid you down with ran sound through your mind. There was something about a future sealed together that made him even more attractive of a partner. Hand tucked beneath your thin panties and kept there by your elastic waistband. Palm flat against your folds, your swelling clit stuck directly to it. Every repetition of his voice, traces of his earlier hold, only intensified that heat.
Next to you, your lover was going through a similar spell. Turned on his side, though, you were oblivious to it. How nice it felt to hold you, how he wished he never had to put you down. Most nights, he was grateful for how lucky he was to lay beside you. Tonight, though, he wanted more. A greed driven by his length - hardly hidden by grey sleeping shorts and white cotton sheets. Desire spilled over and stained the taut threads, drawing a slight scowl from your clean freak.
Another night, you would have missed it, maybe even ignored it. However, there was a fire at your middle and capable hands at your side, you would have sooner stayed up all night than ignore your capable lover - just as needy.
You slung an arm over his side and pulled your chest to his back. First, you noticed the heat of his lower abdomen, he felt the perk of your swollen buds. It was then you both understood the needs of the other, yet you could not help but hear it. Lips pressed the meeting of his neck and undercut. “Levi?” Finger twirled into his locks, tongue swiped his ear and slithered, “You need a drink?”
Levi looked over his shoulder - just one long second - before he snatched your wrist and rolled you over. On your back, disheveled in whiplash, it was his favorite sight. Levi hovering above, lips parted at the sight of you, there was no better place for him.
Confidence poured down, his voice like steady rain, “Seems like you’re the thirsty one.”
A slight eye roll irritated him just enough. Your sassy half-smile begged to be bitten. With the back of your hand, you lovingly pushed his bangs aside - a harsh contrast to the fist you then made. Yanking him forward, you spoke into his mouth. “All talk, huh?” A vicious arch of your back brought your full breast to bounce against his chest. “Shut up and suck me already.”
A selfish side you so rarely showed. His smirk was short-lived, broken by the wrap of his lips around your left nipple. Beneath your curve, he softened his tongue into a pillow, propping you to his teeth for those first few grazes. Until you rose to the roof of your mouth, he would work you like this.
The pattern of your stretch marks, he had long memorized. The tip of his tongue traced them - a stencil of your skin. Warm honey flowed through your bloodstream. Above that and parallel, the saliva that caressed your curves.
The drag of his tongue always started slow, so slow - you would not even notice. From the base of your breast, along the underside, to the top of your tip - a trail he had traversed many times in pursuit of your taste. If he wanted it, he had to work for it.
Adding his hands to the mix, left hand cupped your left breast, coercing you further into his mouth. Right hand found a familiar place between your thighs. Paces matched perfectly: the speed of his tongue as he drew out your milk, the speed of his fingers as he dove for your cream.
Less controlled, though, was the inadvertent thrusting of his hips. Toes arched into the mattress provided leverage. Calves flexed in rhythm with each push forward. Selfless was the indulgence of his cock: rutting against the cold mattress and its covers until his friction turned them hot. Being with you made him forget how he would have to wash them later. Entirely devoted to you, unable to give a damn about anything else.
For the shreds of time that he did break contact, you were instantly enveloped in a stinging chill. His slick saliva spread over your skin made you unbearingly sensitive to midnight’s temperatures. For some reason, in the throes of autumn, your bedroom windows were cracked open. With each gust of wind, shivers shook your figure, nipples reaching new heights and hardness. Did he do that on purpose?
It was as if he could hear your thoughts, the way he swiftly reached for the hem of the comforter and tugged it down, revealing your body from the waist up. Clenching your teeth, pricks adorned you everywhere. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him tight against your front. The inherent adrenaline of survival was added to your mix of feelings. A primal, evolutionary desire to withstand the winter - intertwined with your need to do so in his arms.
With your pull came a push: your breast fully against his face, nipple tickled the back of his throat. Impeccably timed, too perfect to be an accident: as you longed for some extra warmth and as your aim pointed down his throat, that was the instant you finally expelled. Warm white milk leaked out your breast, soon it was a shot. Breath caught in his chest, eventually pushed out - overwhelmed by his satisfied groan.
Your flow neither halted him nor slowed him down - in fact, the opposite. The ever-controlled Levi began to grow riled. The grip on your curves turned white-knuckle. The teeth on your skin trembled, threatening to pierce. The rocks at his middle, you thought them rigid before, they were now inconsolable. A divot in the mattress where his member pressed firmly down. The sweetness on his tongue, the arousal that soaked his fingers - the mere thought would make him crazy. The reality - even more so.
Levi turned his head to the side, sweat-coated obsidian pressed into your cleavage. At the side of your breast, his tongue danced, a futile attempt to keep his command of you. Unwound by his own fetish, helplessly, he panted, “F’Fuck…” teetering between a whine and a growl, “Fuck me!”
Looking down to your chest, it was a scene you could savor for hours. Your milk dripped down to his skin, highlighting his hair, soaking his lashes. But the poor thing was so clearly suffering. In pale moonlight, his cheeks flushed red. Slender neck was strained by tendons stretched. His eyes squint shut in endurance, when they opened, he gazed needingly up towards you. Poor baby boy couldn’t even manage the breaths to ask for help.
Your first sign of maternal mercy: how your hand held his head and kept him sound against your chest. A kiss of his forehead was followed by the words you knew would get him there, “Come on, Levi… you can do it.” Fingernails reached over his shoulder, anchored into his back, and scratched their way up through his undercut, “Be a good boy and cum for mommy.”
For you. For you. For you.
Only then could he allow himself to. Only then did he have the strength to. Only then did he have permission to. Anything to give you one ounce of satisfaction, he would put himself through. An orgasm that made his head hurt. Ten seconds of torturous pleasure. A scream that ran his throat raw - one that would ruin his reputation among neighbors. Anything and everything - he endured for you.
For the nectar you fed him, he could never repay you. Every night since that first taste had been an attempt - one you were satisfied with, but one he insisted imperfect. Anyone but Levi Ackerman would have given up the idea of repayment, but he was never one for debts nor failure.
As his muscles ached and exhaustion screamed, he shut them up with a single determination: Try again and again and again - until she screams like you.
