★🍷★

See, the plane ride had been one thing. It was self-contained, like the bus. Or, maybe the bus wasn’t self-contained, because Sana had mated Jihyo and Jihyo had mated Sana and now they were too busy fucking each other to explain what had happened to everyone else. Of course Sana was feeling newfound roils of possession towards Jihyo and only few had understood; Nayeon and Mina, mostly, who kept to themselves and did not question why Sana’s face had remained tucked into Jihyo’s neck for the majority of the two-hour business class flight. Nayeon, because she didn’t care. Mina, mostly because she was hard and scared of her voice cracking.  They had remained static, then, kissing and sucking and touching whatever they could because there was a curtain separating the group from the rest of the plane and, really, how loud could they get?

Loud. The answer was comically loud. And not to mention they stunk; four out of the five times Sana came on the plane, Nayeon had kicked the back of Sana’s captain chair with strength unbeknownst to man. “It’s only been two hours, you freaks,” Nayeon would grumble, and Mina had nodded with the color drained from her face in agreement. But what Nayeon had not considered was the constant motion would force Sana’s body to jerk forward, which meant Jihyo would have her fingers hilted up to the web of her palm inside of her, which would just make her moan just as obscenely loud as before. Eventually the pair had found the courtesy to at least get out of the airspace (ha!) as the rest of the girls, because Jeongyeon had seemed extra brooding and it was freaking Sana out.

So, of course, their solution was very simple: mile high club! Sana had never been, and she was very vocal about her admission. Too vocal. The flight attendants had given her very, very dirty looks.  Three round trips to the bathroom later and Sana was still aching for her Jihyo, her mate, all giddy and quite literally trying to fuse herself to the side of Jihyo’s shoulder. 

And then the plane had landed, and they were now in Germany, the wonderfully quiet city of Berlin. And Nayeon was still angry. But Sana did not care. Because now she had Jihyo, sweaty and disheveled Jihyo, who was now being cornered in the elevator that was taking an unimaginable number of minutes to arrive on their floor. The elevator was not large, maybe six feet deep and seven feet wide, and beside them a terrified bellboy stood. His face was obscured by Dahyun, who had made the mistake of booking a room on the same floor as the pair, and all she could really do was give the man an apologetic smile. 

“I want you so fucking bad,” Jihyo says against Sana’s mouth, and Dahyun hides her face in her hands. “Gonna fuck you all day, unnie.” 

“Es tut mir leid,” Dahyun coughs in the man’s direction, lacking in confidence because she’s only just learned how to apologize in German and this is the situation she’s using it in. Eventually, she simply began to say whatever she could to cover up the loud, lewd sounds of Sana sucking on Jihyo’s neck. Dahyun is good at a lot of things. German is not one of them. “I am so — entchuldigung. They are, um … ja, entchuldigung. Danke. Sorry. Mein … mein friends, ja?” Then, in English: “They are insane. I am sorry.”

The man’s face is pale. “I speak Korean.”  he whispers, and gets off on floor eleven. Sana does not notice. “Jesus.” 

“What in the world is up with you two?” Dahyun asks, but does not get a response, because now Jihyo’s spun Sana around and has gotten her mouth firmly against Sana’s nape. Sana faces Dahyun now, eyebrows furrowed and forehead damp. Dahyun cringes. “You look like you’re gagging for it. Oh, gosh. Take it to your room.”

“I am gagging for it,” Sana whines petulantly. Her face is flushed, she can feel it, and thankfully the elevator tones a loud floor twenty-one, and Jihyo shoves her out of the sliding doors with nary a goodbye to Dahyun. “Bye, Dahyunnie! See you later!”

She can see Dahyun shudder over the broad outline of Jihyo’s shoulder. “I hope not.” 

And suddenly, Jihyo’s got her running down the hotel hallway looking for their room. She tries not to trip on herself, with the heat of her entire body making her feel deliciously lightheaded. Thankfully Jihyo is there, like she always is, supporting (and groping) the majority of Sana’s weight as they half-hobble, half-run down the hall. They turn a corner and they both audibly sigh in relief at the sight of  the little Room 1296 plaque. It’s a deluxe suite, originally meant for Sana, Jihyo, and Chaeyoung to share, but of course Chaeyoung is god-knows-where and Sana is immediately pressed up against the door the moment it shuts. “Sana,” Jihyo growls, baring her teeth against Sana’s damp neck, “I’m gonna — I’m gonna make you feel good.”

“Yeah?” Sana murmurs. “Good, so good, honey, so fucking hot.” 

Sana smiles and holds Jihyo by her shoulders, gets a good look at the expanse of tan skin hidden by layers of fabric, and decides that this will simply not do. She shoves Jihyo back, watches her stumble and plant back-first on the king-size bed. Sana giggles, squeals as Jihyo tugs her down along with her. Jihyo rolls the pair, growl dripping at the back of her throat like an animal, and forces Sana on her belly. Jihyo’s bony fingers rest at Sana’s hips, tucking underneath and laughing at Sana’s high-pitched sigh. She draws them up until Sana is practically folded in half before tearing her shitty plane sweatpants down to her thighs.

Jihyo doesn’t warn her at the first intrusion of her fingers, she doesn’t need to. Sana is all wet and loose from the last three days, the last three days spent inside and against Jihyo, relishing the honeymoon phase her hormones grant her during this first heat spent with her mate. Sana groans loudly, whimpering against the tightly tucked in linen sheets. See, the linen is nice, with a thread count probably up the wazoo, but the smell is so neutral it borders on sterile. It’s too muted, it’s not comforting, it makes her hackles raise and all she really wants is to be planted face-first into Jihyo’s woody undertones. Sana supposes she’ll have to make this bed before she really lies in it – she’ll have to soil it with slick and sweat and whatever else she can wring out of Jihyo.

The thought soothes her, and suddenly she’s a lot happier now, happier with how she can’t do anything but take it, anything but take two of Jihyo’s fingers curling insistently inside of her. Jihyo doesn’t even take the ring on her index finger off; Sana is so wet it glides in easily, but oh god, the shock of the cool metal makes her drool. 

She’s dimly aware of Jihyo speaking above her. She only snaps back to reality when Jihyo drapes herself against Sana’s back, still painfully clothed and warm. The smell of cinnamon shrouds Sana’s senses, dulling them down until all she can register is Jihyo. She nips at Sana’s nape, leans up with her free hand to tilt Sana’s jaw to expose the bright purple-red mating bite she had left days prior, and laps obscenely at it to make Sana squirm. “Not enough,” Sana groans tightly. “I want — ugh, I want you, want all of you, wanna fuck you and, and, and I just wanna —“

Jihyo laughs. “Wanna what? Get me pregnant?”

“Yes,” Sana babbles. “I do. I do.”

There’s a small tut. “In this position? I don’t think so.” Jihyo hums, twisting and curling her fingers until Sana warbles in warm pleasure. It takes the edge off, sure, but at the end of the day Sana’s heat is closer to a rut, because she knows Jihyo is fucking her to repay the favor but all Sana wants is to pin Jihyo down and fuck her pregnant like they had spoken about. Gender is weird. “You’ll have to let me fuck you like this, gonna have to take it.”

“Yeah, ‘s okay, I’ll take it from you,” is Sana’s writhing, desperate gasp. “I’ll take it from you, knocked up or not.”

Jihyo laughs briskly. Her voice is so nice. Her thumb brushes at Sana’s clit and she can’t count how many times she’s finished already, but she knows to add one more to the list. She sees stars and Jihyo murmurs: “Yeah? You’d take it from the mother of your pups, then?”

Well – why wouldn’t she? Sana wants to retort: I’m already taking it, like a smartass, but it seems her frontal lobe has turned into grape-cinnamon flavored mush. It might be running out of her nose at this point, but Sana wouldn’t be able to tell, because she’s running on two things and two things alone: her most basic, primal instinct, and the feeling of Jihyo inside of her. “I would, honey.” Sana gasps out, and suddenly, she once again proves her brain-to-mouth filter is obsolete. “I’d take it from the, the – mm, oh, I’d take it from mommy, yeah.”

Jihyo makes a choked noise like she’s been shot. Her scent spikes with something hesitant and confused and Sana knows she should backtrack, but for some reason, she’s only pressed to hold firm. Sana doesn’t want to apologize, so she doesn’t. They hadn't even spoken about the first situation, the initial concept of knocking one up. The heat of the room and the state of both of their bodies becomes almost unbearable as Jihyo breathes hotly against her neck. 

Of course, it’s just one of those things, those inevitable little things that must be destined to happen with someone like Jihyo. Especially with someone like Sana there to fan the flames. It’s hard to give it much thought, this whole mommy thing, but it seems to be a step backwards in terms of deviancy with their history in question. It’s just, she’s only now gone from you’re my pregnant mate to you’re mommy, so. Like. It feels a bit like a natural progression. Or regression, all things considered. They’ve skipped a few steps. 

Sana feels the skin of Jihyo’s cheek heat up, far warmer than before. She slips her fingers out of Sana and pushes her head back down when it flies up with a hoarse cry. Then, she makes quick work of the rest of Sana’s clothing. Wordless, but intense all the same, Sana weakly twists her body until she’s finally looking at her mate. Jihyo’s face is red, her pupils eating up the brown of her iris. Sana isn’t capable of higher thinking, this has long since been established, so all she really can do is wait to see what Jihyo says. Her scent already gives her away, Jihyo is emotional like that, and Sana can sense intrigue among the spicy twang of humiliation.

The room is so fucking hot, Jihyo is so fucking hot, and Sana wants so bad to let Jihyo absorb this at her own pace, but rational thought has long since escaped her. Bare and naked, faced with Jihyo’s fully-clothed and disheveled appearance, Sana murmurs: “What? I’m gonna make you a mom, so I just …” she doesn’t even know where she’s going with this, but all she can focus on now is how Jihyo’s hand is now resting at her navel. “Um.”

Her hand just — defaults there. It’s natural. Jihyo can look embarrassed, Jihyo can have her ears glow red like they are now with something confused and hot but despite the teasing, despite it all, she wants this. God, she wants this as much as Sana does, she loves Sana as much as Sana loves her, she also wants this nebulous future with Jihyo beside her at night and Jihyo waking her up in the morning and Jihyo pinching the cheeks of their kids and fuck, she loves this girl and they haven’t even been mated for a week, but it had gone on so long before that, and, and – 

Slowly, Jihyo lifts up her hoodie. Her shirt, undershirt, and bra follow suit. Sana doesn’t say anything; her legs are still spread, and she knows her body is doing the talking for her. Her yoga pants go next, then her panties, and then Jihyo is wonderfully naked as well. She’s tanned, though, her skin is clammy with how much fluid she’s lost these last few days. Either way, she’s littered in bruises and bitemarks, green-purple-red telling a very unnecessarily horny story. She is the most beautiful person Sana has ever seen. Her hands hover, unsure where to go, for a moment her muscles twitch like she’s about to cover herself up, but she swallows whatever self-conscious tick she had in mind and simply murmurs: “Was gonna go crazy if I had to stay in those airplane clothes for another minute.”

Nervously, Sana chuckles. “Yeah. We haven’t had a shower in, like, two days.”

“We stink.” Jihyo says, staring idly at the carpet beneath her feet. 

Sana has no fucking idea where this is going, nor does she know when Jihyo suddenly became this awkward with anybody but Momo. “Yeah. I guess we do.”

Her shoulders are tense, these days they always are, and the entire hallway smells like that lemon furniture polish that makes her head hurt and Jihyo is inhaling it like a bloodhound. Nayeon has seen her do this before; she’s nervous, trying taste a shift in Jeongyeon’s scent, because Jeongyeon is in rut and Jihyo’s only just presented. Fairly fucking late, Nayeon thinks, but omega or not Jihyo always hates being away from Jeongyeon during times like these. “Do you think she’s okay?” Jihyo asks for maybe the three hundredth time. “I could just, like … I don’t know,  bring her something? Does she need something? Soup?” Soup? Soup? Nayeon wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake until Jihyo shuts up. She's too cute. She's too cute and Nayeon wants to bite her face off. But Nayeon is kind. Nayeon is also a beta, almost entirely unaffected by whatever hormonal mess is going on today. “You’re so fucking clingy.” she tuts, “Chill out. She’s fine.”

“How do you know that?” Jihyo whines. “You don’t know that.”

See, this is the first time Jihyo’s been away from Jeongyeon during rut. Ever since they were fifteen or sixteen, Nayeon loved to be doted on when rut came and Jeongyeon needed someone to preen. After a while, though, after Jihyo had softened up just enough to practically wave her hands and shout for the love of god me next, me next, take care of me next, that’s when things started to get weird. Because Jihyo had never been that needy before. And then – Jihyo was a whole twenty years of age, presenting for the first time. And that was six months ago.

“Hey. Hey,” Nayeon snaps, though not unkindly, “I’m serious when I say you need to shut up and go watch a movie, or something. You’ll just work her up, you know, she can probably smell you through the fucking door. Jeongyeon is fine. You’re fine. I’ll go in there, okay? Jesus.”

Jihyo pouts. She’s yet to lose the roundness of her cheeks, Nayeon notes, so her pout is extra dramatic. “You’ll text me? If she needs something?” 

“She won’t need anything. I’ll be there.” Nayeon huffs. Jihyo’s eyebrows twitch. “Okay, fine. Fine! I’ll text you. Now go to the mall, or something.”

Nayeon waits until Jihyo fully rounds the corner and the front door slams shut before she turns to Jeongyeon’s door. The scent makes Nayeon’s head pound, Jeongyeon is just so violently clean and fresh. She smells like the laundry detergent aisle. Twisting the handle, Nayeon finds Jeongyeon laying splayed out on her bed, Jihyo’s comforter pulled up to her chin. It takes a moment for Nayeon’s eyes to adjust, the room is nearly pitch black save for the blinking of the power button of Jeongyeon’s monitor. “Hi.” Jeongyeon’s voice is rough, like it usually gets when she’s been roused from a nap. “Come here.”

“Did I wake you?” Nayeon gingerly shuts the door behind her before kneeling at the side of the bed. “Or were you just, like, jerking off?”

“You’re conflating rut with heat. You stereotyping asshole.” Jeongyeon grumbles. She lifts an arm from the comforter, lightly tangling her fingers in Nayeon’s hair. She scratches softly and dazedly at Nayeon’s scalp before she gives a light tug. She nudges Nayeon up, who acts annoyed, and only stills when she’s tugged Nayeon’s neck right up to her face. Jeongyeon inhales, rubs her cheek against the side of Nayeon’s throat, sighing happily Jeongyeon scents her.  “But yes, I was. Earlier.”

“Aww, Jeongyeonnie, so cute.” Nayeon hums, bodily pushing Jeongyeon to the side so Nayeon can curl up next to her. She threads her fingers through Jeongyeon’s short, blonde hair – Nayeon’s grown obsessed with the cute little mullet look Jeongyeon’s been sporting for Signal. Chaeyoung compared her to Sailor Uranus, once, and Nayeon had scoffed. Our Jeongyeonnie is much prettier, she had said. But now she really sees it: the mused blonde hair, the dark, narrow eyes. The weird lack of commitment to having short hair. Nayeon supposes, then, she should dye her hair blue next. Uranus and Neptune were the gay ones, right? Nayeon doesn’t remember. She figures Jihyo is due for a dye soon, too. She can be Sailor Moon, since she’s kind of the star of the show these days.

What were they talking about, again?

Jeongyeon, oddly enough, feels so much smaller like this. No scent blockers, raw and primal, her self control spread thin enough to be cooed at like an animal in a cage. She pats Jeongyeon’s cheek, which is swelteringly warm, fuck, she’s feverish. Jihyo was right. Jeongyeon needs soup, or something. “You know, Jihyo’s crazy worried about you. How are you holding up?”

Jeongyeon shrugs weakly, though she practically perks up at Jihyo’s name. Still too proud for her own good. Still too whipped for her own good. “I’m okay. Just, like. You know how ruts are. It’s just the usual.”

“I don’t know, actually, but.” Nayeon waves a hand. Being a beta means she doesn’t really get this stuff. "Whatever."

“It’s a figure of speech. Ugh.” Somehow, Jeongyeon musters the strength to prod Nayeon’s shoulder in annoyance. Then, she squirms affectionately against Nayeon in a complete one-eighty. She presses her forehead against Nayeon’s arm, seemingly trying to burrow into her skin like a weevil. Gross. “I’m still in pre-rut, technically. So it’s gonna get a lot worse.”

“Looks like you’re stuck with me again.” Nayeon hums. Jeongyeon grunts. “Jihyo can’t be in here, remember?”

She feels Jeongyeon’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. I forgot.”

Jeongyeon’s scent shifts strangely, and her hips slightly kick forward. It’s a practiced motion by now – Jeongyeon’s been thinking about that, about Jihyo’s presentation and how fucking awkward it was. Nayeon huffs, turns on her side to face Jeongyeon, who exhales heavily. “I don’t think you forgot,” Nayeon teases. She shifts her thigh, nudging against Jeongyeon’s crotch. “I think you were jerking off to it. Jihyo’s gotten really needy, hasn’t she?”

Honestly, Jihyo’s always been needy. Her praises are sung to the high heavens: Park Jihyo is talented, a prodigy, even. Her name fits easily in everyone’s mouth, but for some reason, she still wants more. More eyes on her, more time in the spotlight, more time to be doted upon. She was made to perform, but she can’t really act in front of Nayeon, can she?  Nayeon wants to scoff, because she knows Jeongyeon is thinking the same thing: Jihyo’s name is always appended before or after a good job, and she’s still ridiculously dramatic about being deprived of attention. 

Jeongyeon seems to follow her train of thought to a T, because it’s only gotten worse. Jihyo’s an omega now, she still acts the same as she always has but Nayeon can tell there’s something itching under Jeongyeon’s skin about it. Thankfully, Nayeon’s wearing shorts, so she can feel Jeongyeon’s hips search for purchase in the crux of her knee. It’s Thighjob Thursday somewhere, after all. “I guess so.”

Nayeon pouts. “Aw, you guess so? You haven’t been thinking about it? About how our little Jihyo-yah wanted you to bend her over? So she could be your good little omega?”

“I just think about her, back when she, ah, had her first heat. She was so, I don’t know. I’ve never seen her like that. So desperate. For me.” Jeongyeon grunts lightly, because now the head of her clothed cock has made it between Nayeon’s thigh and calf through her boxers. Somehow. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. “It’s just, ah, I don’t know, I just … we always knew, didn’t we? And now I want to fuck her so bad.”

“You always wanna fuck her,” Nayeon hums, reaching down to free Jeongyeon’s cock. It’s warm and wet with precum and sweat against the back of her knee. Nayeon angles her thigh and watches Jeongyeon’s pretty mouth fall open. “You don’t exactly hide it.”

“I try.” Jeongyeon whimpers, tenses her lower back and thrusts into Nayeon’s general direction. “I really do try. I don’t, wanna, fuck, I don’t know. Don’t wanna make her feel inferior, or whatever. I don’t wanna impose.”

“You two think too much.” Nayeon tuts. “You’re so sheepish, but you’re just a loyal little puppy, aren’t you? You just wanna make sure she’s safe and satisfied with you? But she’s not allowed in here, ‘cause Sana used up all the condoms doin’ anal with Mina.”

“Um? I don’t need to know all that.” huffs Jeongyeon, breathless and flushed and genuinely kind of weirded out. 

Nayeon cocks her head, and Jeongyeon sighs as she lets it go. She tugs Nayeon closer, hand on the swell of her ass as she grips and humps her soft thigh ferociously. See, Nayeon always advocates for this kind of desperation from any of her girls, but she swears up and down it’s the hottest when it’s Jeongyeon. She flexes her calf against her thigh as hard as she can and watches Jeongyeon shudder. The sandalwood undertone of her scent shoots to the surface, smooth and wanting. “Is it good?” Nayeon croons, tucking the damp hair sticking to Jeongyeon’s cheek back behind her ear. “Does it feel good, Jeongyeonnie? When you fuck my thighs and pretend it’s her?”

Jeongyeon’s jaw tightens in a silent plea. Pre-rut already has her feverishly on edge, her blunt nails digging into the skin of Nayeon’s upper thighs. “I pretend we’re both with her, I pretend Jihyo is begging me to fuck her while you, you, I’m inside of you —“ she gasps. “I, I think — I think you’re right, you’re right unnie, we think too much, and … and I want to fuck you both. I want you to make Jihyo feel good, and I want to make you feel good, and I want Jihyo so much.  You’re both so, so good and —“

She gives one final, shuddering thrust. Jeongyeon cums against Nayeon's knee and it feels utterly fucking disgusting. Nayeon wants to put Jeongyeon behind her teeth and dissolve her with her tongue like hard candy. She brushes Jeongyeon’s hair back. “You’re sweet.” Nayeon murmurs, pulling Jeongyeon up into a kiss full of spit and sweat. Jeongyeon stares at her with these big, trusting eyes. It makes Nayeon feel so worthy, worthy of so much. Worthy of all of this. It’s so cute how hormones can turn what once had the emotional functionality of a brick wall into an emotional, rambling mess. God, this makes her forget just how much of an unmoving, pragmatic rock of a woman Jeongyeon used to be. Still is. Whatever. “Sweetheart, sweet girl, little alpha, do you want a handjob?”

Jeongyeon gasps incredulously. “What the hell is your problem,” she grumbles, “you’re always ruining the moment.”

-

Nayeon’s phone has managed to stay in her pocket this entire time, somehow. The clock beside Jeongyeon’s table reads 03:38 AM, it’s late. Jeongyeon snores softly beside her. The funniest part, perhaps, is the fact that Jihyo has managed to send 30+ messages in the span of four hours. 

JIHYO, PARK. 8:23 PM

Is she ok

How is she???

JIHYO, PARK. 8:35 PM

I asked how is she!!!

You never reply to me. (╥_╥)

Why…

Why do you hate me…

Reply!!!

JIHYO, PARK. 9:15 PM

Ok I took a nap I feel better now

Power naps are good for productivity

How is Jeongyeonnnn ???

I hate you.

-

This is proceeded, of course, by another twenty-something messages all of varying temperaments. Nayeon seems to be the only person Jihyo treats this way. With Jeongyeon on her arm, she types out a reply with one hand as to not disturb her.

-

NAYEON, IM. 3:38 PM

:) 

Stop by tomorrow~

It’s not like their arrangement is casual, per se, it’s more … well. There’s definitely something there. They're known together, they work together, they fuck each other proper on odd days and grind against each other on evens. They could work as a couple, they would work, but being on two ends of the same spectrum makes love tricky on the communicative side of things. Plus, well. The whole alpha-who-likes-other-alphas thing is another box checked on the list of things that makes Mina’s life difficult. Mina has always been shy, despite her alpha standing, always the quietest of the bunch. That silence often reads as something more alpha-appropriate, like standoffishness or a cold heart. 

Mina’s heart isn’t cold. She’s quite warm, actually. It’s just —  it’s not like she particularly vies for the sort of lovesick dirty talk Momo seems to silently beg for every other night. Luckily enough, what Mina lacks in communication she makes up for in compromise. The pair have known each other for long enough for Mina to hesitantly allow Momo to shower her in those stumbling sweet nothings, heads pressed together, to be so un-alpha-like. She lets Momo peer directly into her eyes as Mina holds her open and rocks in and out at that breakneck pace she knows Momo loves. She lets Momo be intimate. She lets herself be intimate. Allows herself to be wrapped in Momo’s sweet and warm scent and allows herself to enjoy it.

It’s taken a long, long time to get to this point, and Mina isn’t quite keen on fucking it up just yet. Sometimes, she reflects. Sometimes, she thinks, it’s kind of pathetic how much Momo needs to consume and be consumed. This isn’t how things are supposed to be. Sometimes, it’s difficult to praise and be praised. Most times, though, Mina can’t help but let Momo pick her apart and build her back up again every night with that stuttering: yes, Minari, fuck, Minari, you’re so pretty, Minari, I want to see you like this forever, Minari. 

Yeah, she breathes, it’s exhausting being vulnerable.

“Minari, come on, what are you waiting for?” 

Mina blinks. She makes a mental note to try to break her habit of overthinking for the millionth time as she absentmindedly swipes her thumb across Momo’s lip, down her chin and neck to a nipple. And, of course, Momo is babbling like an idiot. She always does. God, that girl runs her mouth when she gets comfortable. If Mina didn’t know any better, she’d wager that Momo actually talks more during sex than at any other point in the day. Something about being unfiltered, she doesn’t know. To be honest, she doesn’t care, either. All she really cares about is how Momo allows herself to be perceived with grace, an alpha with her head held high, when all she really wants is someone above her railing her into next weekend. Momo has always been docile, if not a little needy. She was actually so affectionate at first that Mina assumed, despite the scent blockers, that Momo was just a broad beta. She didn’t have that sort of keening, desperate sort of stink Mina associates with most unmated omegas. 

But, don’t get Mina wrong — Momo is desperate. A desperate alpha who bows her head in submission and has no idea what to do with all of the aggression and overt leadership ingrained in her DNA. She’s like a puppy; she’s got the too-big paws and the unbalanced tail. She needs a guiding hand. 

Mina suppresses a snort. She’s happy she’s nothing like that. On weekends, at least.