#abo!au

Her expression softened, relief flickering across her face. She leaned in one last time, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. Longer this time, like she was sealing the promise between you.

You stood there a moment longer, watching as she climbed into the truck. The engine turned over, loud against the growing hush of the storm. You raised a hand, giving a small wave as she pulled away, gravel crunching beneath the tires.

The truck grew smaller and smaller, swallowed by the winding road and the darkening sky, until it disappeared completely. Only then did you turn back inside, closing the door behind you. The house felt quieter without her. Still.

You drifted to the window, eyes fixed on the empty stretch of road where she’d vanished, the first low growl of thunder rolling in the distance.

The storm is arriving in full force now.

Wind thickening the air. It fills your lungs, heavy. You step back out onto the patio, scanning the distance once more, searching for her, for the glow of headlights cutting through the dark, but there’s nothing.

Your hand drifts to your arm, rubbing absently, a quiet, self-conscious habit. You move farther onto the patio, the boards creaking beneath your weight. Then, something. A flicker of motion at the edge of your vision, something that doesn’t belong.

Your gaze snaps toward it. A filly.

She stands there, impossibly, where she shouldn’t be. Somehow she’s made her way here. Far from the barn, far from the pasture where the rest of the horses are safely kept on your land.

God. She shouldn’t be here. She should be in the barn. Safe. Sheltered. The storm is only getting worse, the radio inside had made that clear enough, its warnings still echoing in your mind. This kind of storm can kill.

But you can’t leave her. You know Natasha wouldn’t, either.

You turn back inside, moving quickly now, grabbing a lead rope, one Natasha left hanging in the house who knows how long ago. Then you step out again, the wind tugging at your clothes, the light rain beginning to sting your skin.

A flicker of hesitation crosses your mind as you guide her toward the barn. By doing this, it does mean you are breaking one of the few rules Natasha has ever given you since you began courting. A rule meant to keep you safe.

Never go into a storm.

The words echo louder with every distant roll of thunder.

And yet, as much as you both care for this filly, you know the truth—losing you would wound Natasha far deeper than losing anything else. The thought tightens in your chest, stealing your breath as your pace quickens, your heartbeat falling into step with the growing storm.

Rain begins to fall, soft at first, almost gentle, before it steadily soaks through your clothes and darkens the filly’s coat. The air turns sharp and electric, the wind beginning to stir.

You press forward anyway, urging her on, your focus locked on the barn ahead. One step, then another. Driven by the hope that you can get her to shelter in time.

And that you’ll make it there, too.

The rain is relentless now, the storm in full force. Thick clouds blot out the sun, casting everything in a dim, restless gray. Wind cuts sharp through the air, whistling as it drives sheets of rain straight into Natasha’s face the moment she steps out of her truck.

She exhales sharply, already soaked at the edges, and hurries to unload a few things, carrying them inside. “Should’ve been faster,” she mutters under her breath, chastising herself as she shuts the door behind her. Still, she made it. Just as the storm broke.

Inside, the house feels too quiet.

She sets her keys down on the table with a soft clink, shrugging off the damp from her jacket. “Hey—” she calls, her voice low, familiar.

Nothing.

Her eyes lift, a faint crease forming between her brows. She stills for a moment, listening—really listening—but all she hears is the storm pressing against the walls, the wind rattling the windows.

“…Hey?” she tries again, a little louder this time.

Silence.

A flicker of unease tightens her chest.

She moves deeper into the house, quicker now, checking room after room. Each empty space sharpens the edge of her worry, her steps growing faster, heavier.

By the time it settles—by the time she knows—you’re not there.

Her expression hardens instantly, concern flashing into something sharper, more urgent. She turns on her heel and strides back to the door, shoving it open. The screen door slams violently behind her as she steps back into the storm, rain immediately swallowing her again.

You’re soaked through by the time you reach the barn, rain clinging to your skin, your clothes heavy and cold. Your hands slip against the wood as you wrestle the door open, breath unsteady, but you manage it. You guide the filly inside, the familiar scent of hay and earth wrapping around you like a fragile kind of relief.

“Easy… easy,” you murmur, your voice softer now, steadier despite the storm raging just beyond the walls.

You duck into the tack room, grabbing a couple of worn towels, and return to the filly. You work quickly but gently, drying her off as best you can, brushing water from her coat, your touch calming her until she settles. Once she’s back beside her mother, safer, warmer, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

You turn toward the door to leave, and that’s when it hits you.

Thunder cracks, loud enough to rattle the beams overhead. Rain hammers against the roof in relentless sheets, the wind howling through every gap and seam. You hesitate, one step from the door, your hand hovering near the handle. You could make it.

…Maybe.

Another crack of thunder splits the sky, closer this time.

“…Damn it,” you mutter, stepping back, the decision settling heavy in your chest. You pat your jeans on instinct—then freeze.

No phone. You left it in the house.

“Great,” you breathe, sharper this time, frustration curling tight. You shut the door firmly, turning back into the barn. Looks like you’re staying.

You drag over a bucket, flip it, and sit beside the filly, absently running your hand along her neck. The steady rhythm of your touch helps pass the time, even as your thoughts churn louder than the storm outside.

It’s only a couple of minutes later when the barn door creaks open.

You jerk upright, the sudden movement spooking the colt. “Hey—hey, sorry, girl,” you soothe quickly, giving her a gentle pat before turning toward the sound.

Your name cuts through the barn. You freeze—then recognize the voice.

“…Natasha?”

You step out of the stall just as wet footsteps echo across the barn floor. Then you see her, completely drenched, rain still dripping from her hair and clothes.

Relief hits you first. Fast. Strong. Then guilt follows close behind.

You swallow, stepping toward her. “Natasha… I—”

“What the hell were you thinking?” she cuts in, her voice tight, edged with something between anger and fear. She closes the distance quickly, eyes scanning you, searching. “Coming out in a storm like this? You could’ve gotten seriously hurt—are you hurt?”

“No—no, I’m fine, I—”

She’s already closer now, looking you over, hands almost reaching before stopping herself. Rainwater drips from her sleeves onto the floor.

“Natasha, please,” you start again, softer this time, urgency bleeding through. “Falin... the new filly.. got out somehow—she was—she was out in the open,” you finish, your voice softer now, the edge of urgency giving way to something quieter. “I couldn’t just leave her there.”

For a moment, Natasha doesn’t respond.

Her gaze follows your gesture, flicking past you to the stall. To the filly, now tucked safely beside her mother, both of them calm despite the storm’s fury outside. The tension in her shoulders shifts, just slightly, as she takes in the sight.

Her jaw tightens anyway again.

She exhales sharply through her nose, dragging a hand back through her rain-soaked hair. “So you decided to run straight into a storm—without even telling me,” she says, her voice lower now, but no less intense.

You flinch at that, the weight of her words settling in your chest.

“I didn’t have time,” you reply, quieter, but firm. “She could’ve been hurt. Or worse.”

Another crack of thunder rolls overhead, loud enough to make the barn creak. Neither of you flinches.

Natasha stares at you for a long second, something conflicted flickering behind her eyes—anger still there, but tangled tightly with relief. Fear. The kind she doesn’t say out loud.

“You don’t get to decide that your life is expendable,” she says finally, the words sharper now, cutting through the space between you. “You could've been hurt, or worse."

The weight of that lands heavier than the storm.

“I wasn’t trying to—” you start, but the words falter. Because there isn’t a clean defense for it. Not one she’ll accept.

Her expression softens—just a fraction—but it almost makes it worse.

“You could’ve called me and asked me what to do,” she continues. "Before putting both your lives at risk."

That lands.

“I didn’t think—” you admit, then shake your head, the words falling apart as you try again. “No… I did. I just thought I could make it there and back before it got bad.”

A beat stretches between you.

Outside, the storm keeps raging, wind and rain hammering against the barn like it’s trying to get in. Inside, everything feels suspended—quiet, heavy, the kind of silence that presses in on both of you as you sit near the hay bale, you shifting slightly beside her while she stares ahead, jaw tight but no longer speaking.

Time passes in fragments, measured only by distant thunder and the slow easing of the wind.

When the storm finally loosens its grip, Natasha doesn’t say much. She just rises first, then offers you a hand that lingers a moment longer than necessary before she leads you out.

The walk home is slow and careful. Mud sucks at your boots as you both make your way down the small hill, the sky still bruised and low above you. Her hand stays on you the whole time. Steady, guiding, as if she’s afraid you might disappear again if she lets go.

You think, maybe, she’s come down from it. That whatever storm was in her has passed with the weather.

You think wrong.

The moment the door shuts behind you, she’s there. Pushing you back against it, close enough that you feel the impact in your breath more than your body. There’s no hesitation in her this time, only something raw and immediate, all the restraint from before snapping loose at once.

Her hands find you, her presence crowding yours, and then she’s kissing you—hard, breathless, furious in a way that isn’t anger so much as everything she held back finally breaking through.

"A-alpha? mm.." you tried to protest, but she kisses you again. cutting you off.

The sound of the storm outside is nothing compared to Natasha’s pulse against your own. The adrenaline that had kept her moving through the rain has curdled into a dark hunger.

Her hands are cold from the rain, but her skin burns where it meets yours. She shoves your chest flat against the wood of the door, the impact jolting through your spine. Before you can even catch your breath to apologize again, she's tilting your head back in a way so her mouth is back on yours. Crushing, desperate, tasting of salt and rainwater.

"Don't," she growls against your lips, a low command that vibrates in your chest. "Don't you dare talk."

One hand entangles in your wet hair, fingers winding tight near the scalp and pulling your head back. The angle exposes the pale line of your throat, and she doesn't hesitate, burying her face in the curve of your neck. You whimper, your knees turning to water as your instincts flare in response to her actions.

She groans, a sound of pure, frustrated need, and her free hand drops to the waistband of your soaked jeans. There is no gentleness in the way she hooks her thumbs into the denim. She peels them down with a frantic efficiency, the wet fabric clinging to your skin until she forces them past your hips, letting them heavy-thud to the floor.

"You think I care about the horse?" she mutters, her voice thick and ragged as she grips your bare hips, her fingers bruising the skin as she hauls you backward. She creates a sharp arch in your spine, pulling your backside firmly against her own damp clothes, making you feel every inch of her hardening dick. "I care about this. About you..."

She doesn't wait. With a sharp tug on your hair to keep your head tilted back, she guides herself into you. You gasp into the empty air of the room.

It’s raw and unrefined. Natasha isn't the steady, quiet farmer right now; she’s the Alpha who almost lost her mate. Each thrust is heavy, driving you back against the door, the wood rattling with the rhythm of her desperation. She’s fucking into you with a possessive ferocity, her breath hot and ragged against your ear.

"You're mine," she pants, the words a vow and a threat all at once. "You stay where I put you. Do you hear me?"

Your hands dig into the door in front of you, fingers searching for purchase as she overwhelms you. The wood of the door is cold against your chest, but Natasha is a furnace at your back.

The rhythm is unrelenting. Each heavy drive sends a jolt through your frame, forcing a broken, rhythmic sound from your throat that is lost against the panels of the door. She isn’t being careful, her teeth graze the sensitive skin where her mark sits on your shoulder, a white-hot spark of pleasure-pain shatters your remaining focus. You can feel the tension in her thighs, the way her breath hitched every time you tried to push back against her.

"Look at me," she rasps, her hand moving from your hip to your chin, forcing your head around so she can see the blown-out haze in your eyes. "Tell me you're staying. Tell me."

You can barely get the words out, the friction and the depth of her taking you to the very edge. "Staying... Natasha, please—"

The plea is all she needs. With a low, guttural growl, she surges forward one last time, her body locking tight against yours. The sensation is overwhelming, a tidal wave that crashes over you, sending your head back against her shoulder as your own climax hits, violent and dragging. She follows you over the edge seconds later, her name for you dying into a ragged exhale against your neck.

She pulls back just enough to turn you around, her eyes dark and searching. Slowly, she sinks to the floor, leaning her back against the very door she just had you pinned to. She doesn't have to say a word; the way she looks at you, the silent command in her posture, tells you exactly what she needs.

You sink to your knees between her legs, the cool air hitting your damp skin. As you take her into your mouth, tasting the salt of the storm and the essence of both of you, she lets out a long, shaky breath, her fingers threading through your hair.

She watches you with an intensity that feels like a physical weight, her hand occasionally tightening when you hit the right depth. Her fingers still tugging your hair, pulling you in. Until she finds her release again, a sharp shudder wracking her frame as she marks you one more time.

"Clean," she murmurs, her voice returning to that low, farm-steady rumble. She guides you to finish, her touch turning softer, more grounded.

Before the chill of the entryway can settle in, she’s lifting you. She carries you through the quiet house like you weigh nothing. She lays you down, but instead of joining you immediately, she hovers over you, her tongue tracing the lines of your body, tasting the aftermath of the entryway. She works with a slow, agonizing patience now, licking and nipping at your thighs until your breath hitches into a sob, driving you toward a second, softer peak that leaves you shaking.

Only then does she move back over you. This time, there’s no frantic rush. It’s deep, slow, and deliberate. She watches your face as she slides home, her expression softening into something devastatingly tender. As the friction builds, her body begins to change, the base of her thickening, locking the two of you together.

Her knot anchors you to her, a physical manifestation of the bond you’ve shared for three years on this land. You wrap your legs around her waist, pulling her as close as humanly possible, drifting off into the hazy, warm afterglow of the tie.

Much later, after the shower has washed away the salt and the mud, the house is truly still.

The window is cracked just a sliver, letting in the smell of wet earth and night air. Natasha is sitting up against the headboard, her chest bare. You’re tucked firmly against her side, your head resting on the steady, slow beat of her heart.

She reaches for the nightstand, sparking a match. The flare of orange light illuminates the sharp line of her jaw before she settles back, the familiar, herbal scent of her hand-rolled tobacco drifting through the room. She takes a long drag, the smoke curling toward the ceiling, and then exhales, the last of the day's tension finally leaving her shoulders.

Her arm tightens around you, pulling you impossibly closer. She doesn't apologize for the roughness—you both know it was the only way she knew how to process the terror of the storm. She just kisses the top of your head, her hand resting heavy and protective over your hip.

“Thank you for saving her. I know you didn’t have bad intentions going into the storm like that… I only—”

“I know,” you say softly, looking up at her, your face scrunching slightly as a stray puff of smoke drifts between you. The moment earns the faintest quirk at the corner of her lips despite herself.

But it doesn’t last.

Her expression shifts again—softening, then steadying, like she’s choosing something she needs to say more than anything else. She closes the distance and kisses you, slower this time, less fire and more certainty.

When she pulls back just enough to speak, her voice is quiet against your mouth. She murmurs, “I love you, and I can’t imagine a world without you.”

You exhale, your forehead almost brushing hers again.

“I love you more,” you answer softly. “And I’ll never put myself in danger like that… so long as you will too.”

“I left way earlier and would’ve been back in time,” she starts, exhaling as she pulls back just slightly, “and I have my truck. If not for—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you cut in gently, a faint, tired amusement in your voice.

That earns you a look.

Not sharp this time—just familiar. A little exasperated, a little fond.

She huffs under her breath, shaking her head as if to let the argument go where it belongs. Her hand, still warm against you, loosens its grip but doesn’t let go completely.

“You’re impossible,” she mutters.

“You started it,” you reply.

A beat.

Then her mouth twitches again, that same reluctant softness breaking through the last of her frustration. She leans in, pressing a quieter kiss to your temple this time—slower, steadier, like she’s grounding herself more than anything.

“Sorry,” she muttered as she finally pulled back, breath a little uneven. “Didn’t mean to…” Her eyes flicked over your face, then lower. “You just smell… so good this morning.”

You didn’t think much of it at first. But it kept happening.

A kiss while passing behind you in the kitchen turned into her hands at your waist, her mouth dragging down your neck. A hug before bed became her slipping one arm around your waist, holding you too close, too tight, too long. She’d nuzzle into the crook of your neck, inhale deeply like she was trying to bury your scent in her lungs.

And her hands — god, her hands. Always on you.

At your lower back while you cooked. On your thigh while watching something together on the couch. Slipping beneath the hem of your shirt just to feel the warmth of your skin.

Sometimes you’d feel her fingers twitch when you got up to leave the room, like her body didn’t want to let you go.

She was quiet about it, but you could see the tension coiling in her shoulders. You caught her jaw clenching when you leaned too far away. Her eyes trailing the slope of your neck, fixating on your scent gland like it was the only thing in the room. She’d look away fast, mutter something under her breath, like she didn’t trust herself to stay close.

That’s when it clicked. Her rut wasn’t just coming and was very close.

8:21 p.m.

The door shut behind you. Quiet, barely making a sound as you drop your keys and your bag. The apartment was quiet, to a point you assumed Sevika was still out working. So it came as a surprise when you stepped into the living room and next you know you're face down on the couch.

A gasp escapes your lips, head pushed into the cushion below you. Your hands shoot beside you, trying to push up but you're shoved right back down. Now is when you're questioning yourself. Her scent, Sevika's scent is strong. So very strong. It burns your senses, melts you. It's been strong the past few days, but now?

Sevika ruts against your ass, her hard on straining against your clothed core. Her hands rough and holding you against her with no where to crawl. You whimper, your breath caught. One touch and everything inside you tightened—sharp, electric, needy.

"Sev—ah!" you're cut off with a gasp as you feel her hand come down on your ass. You know without her asking, or telling. "Alpha..!"

She runs her hands over your ass, sliding your pants down. A groan escapes her lips at the sight, gasps escaping you as she palms your bare ass.

"So fucking hot, so fucking good for me."

Her large hands spread you, baring you to her. Your cheeks flush, eyes widening as you're moved into such a vulnerable position. You whine her name, embarrassed as well as wanting. She shushes you.

"Shhh omega.... relax. This is what you're made to do, you're meant to do this," she drags a finger down, dragging over your ass to your cunt. She gathers the wetness there before suddenly pushing a finger in. There's no warning given before she just begins to ram her finger in, hitting the spot that makes you see stars.

She reduces you to a drooling mess so quick, lips parted as you moan, hips squirming. Sevika's a mess at the sight of you, dick hanging between her legs so painfully hard. She bends down, her mouth making contact with your soaking core. Tongue circles your clit, pressing down, driving you crazy.

"Alpha!" you moan, hips jerking, panting hotly onto the couch below you. She pulls your hips impossibly closer, jerking you back when she sees you try to pull away slightly. Overstimulated.

You feel her push the tip at your entrance, feeling her precum smudging all over your clit. Her dick splits you open, each inch dragging against your walls until she's fully in you. Tears pool in your eyes, hips circling as you feel how full you are. Her length's pushing at your womb, stretching you wide as well as long.

She slides her hips back and jerks forward, the movement rushing all air out of you. A silent scream escaping you. Each thrust rougher than the last, her pace rough and almost punishing.

The couch squeaks under you. Your eyes shut tight, bottom lip just fully dropped open as whines escape you.

"Ah... ah! Sev... Alpha! Please... Please!"

She just groans, her own eyes shut, wanting to be deeper in you. Surrounded by you. Even now it's not enough. She pulls out, manhandling you onto her lap. Her rough hands grip your waist, nails digging into the skin.

She delivers a slap to your ass, "ride me. Come on, treat your alpha."

You're so dazed, thoughts scrambled, but like nature your hips move. The positioning feels like she's deeper, now shoving into your cervix in a way that if she continues any longer you'll be coming all over her length. You babble against her neck, jumping and curling your hips in at each bounce.

She licks and bites at your neck, bruising the skin as she marks you entirely. The whole left side of your neck glistening with her saliva and swollen now with her markings. She whispers nonsense into your ear, her mind as much of a mess as yours. Neither of you minding, just chasing a high.

9:57 p.m. is the first minute she feels any sort of relief. She doesn't slow down, plunging her hips up to meet yours even as her knot grows. It roughens her thrusts, makes it more difficult with the growth trying to push past your ring of muscle. Last thrust, her orgasm impending, she drags your hips down. Pulling you all the way down, her knot making its way past your tight ring of muscle.

You bite her neck, a tear slipping from your eye as you come as well. Both of you panting, entirely out of breath as you slump against each other. Her hands play with your back, tracing shapes. She kisses your neck gently as you're now bounded to each other, her mind now clear for the first time the entire day.

She murmurs her praises into your ear. No verbal apologies, but the way she takes care of you, her soft touch, her vulnerable expression. It's an apology in and of itself.

“fuck!” a resounding crack sounded throughout the entire mansion, and you and the four men all turned to look at each other.

“he’s rutting again,” william said, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper. fred merely stayed silent, opting to continue tending to the plants in the room.

“you know what that means right?” albert turned to look at you, and you sighed, brushing your hair out of your face.

“indeed i do. i’m just going to head to my room and wait for hell to start, you guys may want to leave, i think it’s worse this time around,” you say, forcing yourself up from the couch. you swallow the small pit of anxiety bubbling in your stomach, knowing what was to come.

“i’d rather refer to it as heaven for the two of you given the sounds we heard last time,” william stated, finally looking up at you. albert smirked quietly to himself, louis blushed light pink, and fred simply stared at the plant in front of him. you turned crimson red, turning from the man and walking out of the parlor. you make your way towards the stairs, already feeling your heat start to come on.

for the past few months that you’ve been at the moriarty manor, whenever moran started rutting, it unconsciously triggered your heat, as well as your heat starting early would trigger his rut. the solution was for the two of you to fuck like rabbits until you were both satisfied. the past couple of times however, were rougher than usual. the stress of the moriarty brother’s plans had gotten to him, and his ruts were more violent than usual. this translated into him being rougher with you. you weren’t complaining, it was exhilarating being with him, but it was scary at times. that’s why the rest of the manor basically pushed and locked you in his room whenever his rut started so there was less of a chance for more broken furniture in the wake of his violence.

by the time your foot hit the first step, his scent, pine trees and cinnamon, with a hint of gunpowder hit you like a wave. his scent alone sent shockwaves of pleasure down your spine, and you barely had enough control of your legs to walk up the stairs. you heard the front door close somewhere in your haze, signaling the absence of the rest of your house mates. which meant by the time you were wobbling outside of moran’s door, slick pooling in your underwear and hands shaking, you had no problem moaning out loud.

“sebastian, open up pl-“ you didn’t have time to finish before his room door was flung open. you had been leaning on it for support, and didn’t have enough time to catch yourself before you were careening backwards. bracing for impact, you’re pleasantly surprised when it doesn’t come, instead falling into moran’s arms before his door is closed and locked behind you. your skin burns where he touches you, and you whine in protest when he drops you on the bed, leaving you without his touch. you take a moment to take in the sight before you.

moran’s wall has a large hole in it, and his dresser is decorated with noticeable dents. he stands in front of the bed, staring down at you. he’s shirtless, only in loose boxer shorts. he’s panting like a goddamn dog, sweat rolling off of him in rivulets, and god he looks so hot. his cock is so hard its almost peaking out of the edge of his boxer shorts, and a wet patch is present from what you come to understand is pre-cum.

“please daddy, i need you right now,” you’re fully in your heat now, your vision hazy and skin hot. his scent is invading every single one of your senses and you’re so dizzy and lightheaded you’re bucking your hips up into thing air, your core throbbing painfully.

“holy fuck i’m going to destroy you,” you barely register his words before he’s on you, tearing your dress straight from your body in one tug. his muscles bulge beneath his skin, and now that you’re almost fully exposed to him, your cunt clenches even more at the sight of his cock throbbing beneath his boxer shorts. in your haze you reach out to pull his shorts off, but he stops you and pins your arms to the bed.

“no, i’m in control. you’re mine right now, only mine,” he’s growling, ripping your bra off and yanking your panties down. the breeze serves to cool you down slightly before his hot mouth is on you. your nerves are sizzling and burning with pure desire, and the cry of “daddy!” only encourages him to pick up his pace. he fucks his tongue into you, tasting every bit of your sweet, purely heavenly slick. he moans into you, the vibrations only forcing more slick to gush out of you and onto his chin. he grinds painfully into the bed as he eats you out with reckless abandon. your thighs are in his death grip, and you’re almost positive you’ll have bruises afterwards but you couldn’t care. all you care about right now is how good his tongue feels on you.

“p-please daddy fuck me! fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! i need your cock inside of me right now, please daddy i’m begging you!” your pleads don’t fall upon deaf ears, and in an instant his head is level with yours and his boxers are in shreds on the floor. his cock is throbbing painfully, his knot swelling with each beat of his heart.

“god-fuck i’m gonna fuck you until you’re passed out, then wake you up and do it all over again,” he murmurs in your ear before pulling your legs up and over his shoulders, and slamming all of himself into you. you scream with your whole being, heat radiating all over your body as your haze only intensifies. all you can focus on is the man above you, thrusting in and out of you at a speed which you can barely register. you’re devolving into screams of his name and cries for more. you’re mind is a one lane road, only focusing on cumming. moran is essentially the same, hyper focused on every aspect of you. he tilts your hips down, catching his pelvic bone on your clit. you scream yet again, his motions addictive. his scent is the only thing you perceive, his cock throbbing in you.

“daddy! i’m close, please let me cum, please i wanna squirt all over you,” your eyes roll back into your head, and your legs tremble against him. he’s close too, his knot swelling painfully. he fucks into you a bit more before answering

“cum for me, let me feel you squirt,” he says, going faster and harder until your throat is raw from screaming his name. and then you’re gone, cumming harder than you ever have before, vision going blank and body limp in his hold. he growls out loudly, his knot swelling a bit more before he’s cumming, his knot catching in you. his cum leaks out of your hole, around his cock. for the first time since your heat started, your haze disappears, and you feel like you can breathe again. you both still, waiting for his knot to finish unloading into you before you guys can move again. you turn your head to see a long crack running through the wall behind the headboard, before turning back to moran.

“that’s the second time we’ve broken his wall,” you breathe out, still trying to catch your breath.

“i know. i’ll help them fix it,” he replies, turning and pressing a kiss to the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“god i’m exhausted,” you say after a beat of silence. moran slowly moves your legs back down onto the bed, carefully making sure to not disconnect you two before pulling you close and flipping you both over so he’s laying on his back with you on his chest, your lower half still connected.

“‘m sorry. you did good though,” he murmurs, smoothing your hair with one hand. your heart grows warm at his praise, and you can’t help the light blush that adorns your face.

Pulling my arm away, I narrowed my eyes, "I know Tae, all we do is fuck, and it's none of your business who and what I do."

The growl that reverberated through the room caused a shiver to run through me and I whined, tilting my head to show submission to the angry alpha in front of me.  Taehyung's eyes widened and he backed away from me, "Shit Y/N, I-"

My eyes watered as I glared at him, "Forget it Tae."  I left him there, rushing out of the library with shame coursing through me at the display I had just given every Alpha in the room.  Taehyung had never handled me in that way before, albeit how unusual and pressing it was for an Alpha and Omega to be best friends, we could control our instincts around each other.  It was upsetting, and I worried my lower lip between my teeth as I debated blowing Hoseok off for the night so I could go home and have a good cry.

As I passed his dorm complex, I could smell Hoseok, surprise rang through me at that, and I hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time.  Entering the entryway, I glanced around and found Seokjin hurrying to the entrance, shoes barely on and a strange look on his face.

"Jin?"

He realized it was me standing there and breathed a sigh of relief, "Oh Y/N, thank gods."

I cocked my head as he pulled me into a quick hug, the comforting scent of a Beta wrapping around me.  "What is it?"

"It's Hobi, he went into heat early, I barely got out of there."

My eyes widened as I realized the issue, and I pushed Jin away, "No, no.  Hobi and I agreed not during heats.  You know as well as I do what could happen."

Jin's eyes twinkled as he grinned, "Well, that wouldn't be a bad thing, now would it?"

"He doesn't feel the same as I do, Jin."  I mumbled, turning away and hanging my head.  "I'm gonna go, just call Hanyu for him, he needs another Alpha to help him."  I started to turn, pushing the door open as I went, cutting Jin off mid-sentence and hurrying home.

After arriving back at my apartment, I stripped and showered, trying to keep my mind from thoughts of Hanyu and Hoseok together.  Finishing up quickly, I threw on some comfy, yet old, pajamas and settled in front of the TV for a good binging session of Say Yes to the Dress.  Sighing, I shoved a spoonful of rocky road ice cream into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully as I thought of myself in the brides’ places with Hoseok as the-

Okay, ending that train of thought right now.

Sitting up fully, I set the ice cream down on the coffee table in front of me, stretching my arms above me when I heard a loud bang come from the front door of my apartment.  Before I could react, a sweaty, shirtless, Hoseok came into my living room and the overwhelming scent of cinnamon was washing over me.  I let out a low whine and showed my neck to the Alpha before me, slick gathering between my legs at an alarming rate.

“I texted you,” Hoseok growled, fangs on display and anger making his eyes grow gold with his Alpha fully presenting.  

“Jin told me it was your heat and-” I gasped as I was suddenly pressed up against the wall, Hoseok’s knee between my legs and his teeth at my throat, his nose rubbing against my cheek.  

“I called you,” I froze, my mouth going dry and I glanced towards my phone sitting on the coffee table.  If Hoseok had called me in the midst of his heat did that mean...?  No, I wasn’t going to go there, he wasn’t thinking straight and neither was I due to his scent wrapping me in cinnamon cloves.  The Omega part of me wanted to just submit to the Alpha scenting me, it wanted me to spread my legs and take him like a bitch in heat.

I had to stay focused, if I let myself go then Hoseok could accidentally mark me, and I didn't want the Alpha to be angry when he came back to his senses, marking an Omega like me.  I felt the nip before I saw him move, the growl resurfacing, "Why do you smell like another Alpha?"

"It's just Taehyung, I was at a study group with him and-"  Hoseok shut me up with a bruising kiss, his tongue licking into my mouth as if to gather every bit of my essence for his own.  I keened, my back arching into his body as his knee pressed against my center, rubbing against my clenching entrance.  A blush coated my body at the feeling of slick running in rivulets down my parted thighs, I was sure by now I had soaked through his jeans.

"He touched you, he touched what's mine." He had pulled away from my mouth, licking at my lips now.  His words had me gasping as I ground against him, euphoria washing through me at the blooming feeling of hope in my chest.

"H-Hoseok..."  This was dangerous, I was letting myself slip into his rut, into him, and yet I loved it, I was excited by it.  I clenched against him, trying to hold myself back, as well as trying to stop more slick from escaping; the wet sounds of my grinding against his thigh were a bit embarrassing.  "Please..." I broke, giving in to his lust and my love.

The salacious grin I was grace with let me know I was in trouble for running away.  "Good girl."  The rumbling of Hoseok's Alpha voice set me on fire, and I gripped his hair before pulling his lips to mine, fighting for dominance with my tongue and tracing his canines gently.  Hoseok groaned, rutting his hips into my belly, and I realized just how affected he was by me.

Steel pressed into my stomach, rubbing a burning trail along my navel and making me beg for more.  Hoseok happily obliged, flinging me over his shoulder and spanking my ass as he did, the keening cry I let out urging him on quicker to my bedroom.  The air split around me as I was thrown onto my mattress, a soft oof leaving me at the force of his throw.  A ripping sound echoed around us as I realized he had ripped my pajama shorts and panties in half, tossing the tattered threads behind him as he set his gaze upon what he wanted.  

"Hey! Those were expensive!"  I was more upset at the loss of my favorite pair of lacy panties than my sleep shorts, and even though he was the Alpha he needed to know what he had done.  

"I'll buy you as many pairs as you want, just let me touch you now."  Hoseok growled, his hands already sliding up my thighs as he crawled towards my center.  His devilish tongue lashed out and licked a burning stripe up my slit, causing me to cry out at the pleasure.  "Just like that baby girl, let everyone know what's going on."  The puff of his hot breath against my core made me tremble, his lips brushing against my clit with every word he spoke.  

Glancing down, I saw his golden eyes watching me as he lapped at me, a slow grin curving at his lips before he truly set out to devour me whole.  Almost immediately, two fingers were shoved deep into my pussy, stretching me and hitting my g-spot in rapid, quick strokes.  I keened and clawed at his hair, pressing him deeper into me, craving the pleasure he so willingly gave.  His tongue lashed me, swirling about my clit and then tapping it quickly, keeping me so close to the edge but not letting me get there.

"You're such a useless whore, letting me have my way with this pretty pussy while you just whine and cry."   Again, his words caused me such great pleasure, lips teasing my clit in such a perfect way that I cried out and came, stars shining in my head.

When I came back down from my high, Hoseok had undressed himself the rest of the way, his golden eyes watching my chest heave from under my vest top, and lips still shiny from my release.  "Get rid of that before I do it for you."  I scrambled to pull it over my head, so I wouldn't have to deal with yet another ripped item of clothing, and watched as his gaze zeroed in on my chest, more specifically, the way my nipples hardened under his watch.  My own gaze focused on his leaking length, the purple head absolutely dripping with precum and his balls heavy with his release.  I tracked the veins that wrapped his steely shaft, and watched how his knot flared gently at his base, ready to lock me to him.

I went to move onto my knees to give him some relief before Hoseok held me back, "Later, now I want you to ride me."  I nodded and sat up, watching as his cock bobbed while he settled against my pillows, a grin lighting up his face as I crawled over him, slick dripping onto him.  I took him in hand and held his head against my entrance, breath hitching as I pressed down, my body taking him with slight difficulty as he seemed to be much larger than normal.  I moaned as I sank onto him, my clit rubbing against his navel with every breath.

At the slow growl that  left him, I started to move, my hips pounding down onto him with such force the bed creaked in protest.  The slick sounds of our coupling entranced him, as he watched where we were joined with rapt attention, licking his lips and letting out groans of pleasure.  Every slap of my body against his had my energy sapping and a whine flying from my throat, a sudden, sharp smack to my ass had me jolting and opening my eyes to see the Alpha, my Alpha watching me.

“Keep going, bitch. I want to see tears rolling down your cheeks.”  I obliged, slamming myself harder with each smack against my rapidly-bruising ass cheeks, my slick pooling onto his stomach by this point and making everything that much wetter.  Tears started to gather in my eyes at the overwhelming pleasure I was feeling, Hoseok's cock swelling with each stroke.  Suddenly, he grabbed the back of my head and slammed his mouth into mine, licking into me and making me taste my own pleasure on his tongue.  I kissed him back with as much vigor, pushing myself to finish with my Alpha, as his knot was catching on me with every pull out.

Hoseok pulled away from my mouth and trailed kissed down my neck, nibbling little galaxies into my skin and making me cry out his name.  "Shit,"  He growled out, hands grabbing my thighs and nails digging in deep enough to make me feel the bruises I would have.  He thrust up with a force I didn't know he had and shoved his knot into my waiting pussy, his cum flooding me and filling me to the brim.  His teeth were in my scent gland in a flash, and I keened and came around him, walls pulsating and milking more of his seed from him, my own, slightly smaller canines digging into his scent gland, marking Hoseok as mine.

Hoseok smiled at his mate, her sleeping figure covered in love bites and bruises from his hands, sufficiently marking her as his.  Of course, the mark that covered her scent gland attested to that fact, and the many other rounds that had followed the initial marking.  Their combined scents of cinnamon cloves and jasmine surrounded him and made his Alpha happy; they had their Omega, finally, and no one could take her from them.  She truly was his wolfsbane.