Yes, MPREG is a thing in certain Omegaverse books and webcomics. Don't think too much about the biology of it all, it's fiction lol.
I can’t stop smiling.The dinner went better than I ever could have imagined. Landon’s parents—his beautiful Omega mother—were nothing like I expected, and for the first time in my life, meeting someone’s family didn’t feel like stepping onto a battlefield. It felt… good. Easy.And now, back in our nest, wrapped in the quiet safety of our space, I feel light. Content in a way I didn’t think was possible for someone like me. The warmth from earlier is still buzzing under my skin as we step into our nest, and I know I should probably be winding down for the night, but there’s this ache inside me—this need to do something for him.Landon stretches out on the bed, his tie already loosened, the top buttons of his shirt undone, watching me with a lazy smirk as I crawl toward him. “You’ve been grinning since we left the restaurant.”I shrug, reaching for his tie and tugging it free completely. “Can’t help it.”He raises a brow. “Should I be concerned?”I don’t answer right away. Instead, I
Tyler kisses Landon, and I feel it like a punch to the ribs. Not because it surprises me, not because I don’t know how this works—because I do. It’s the natural order of things, the way society functions, the way we’re all meant to fit into the carefully structured hierarchy that keeps everything running smoothly. Omegas belong to Alphas. Omegas bond Alphas. Omegas surrender to Alphas. That’s just the way it is, and it’s never bothered me before. I’ve seen it a hundred times, a thousand times, hell, my father practically built his empire on it. But right now, watching him, it’s different. It’s like something inside my chest has been hollowed out, like I’ve been scraped clean and left raw, bleeding and empty, but I don’t let it show. I never do.Instead, I smirk.I lean back against the wall, arms crossed, perfectly at ease, perfectly unaffected, like I’m watching something mildly entertaining instead of something that’s making me want to tear my own fucking skin off. Tyler stands o
The next day is the same as every other. I wake up, shower, throw on my uniform, and move through the motions like I always do—like I don’t have the weight of my father’s empire pressing down on my shoulders, like I didn’t spend last night drinking alone in a room no one knows I have. Like I didn’t stare at the ceiling for hours thinking about an Omega that doesn’t belong to me.The hallways are already packed when I step out, the usual clusters of students lingering near their lockers, posturing, laughing too loud, trying too hard. I move through them easily, nodding at a few familiar faces, keeping my expression lazy as I make my way to my first class. I don’t have to fake the ease—it comes naturally after this long. But beneath it, my mind is already running through the day, cataloging the details, considering the angles. The routine is second nature. Show up. Watch. Report. Repeat.By the time I’m on my way to my third class, I need to stop by the administration office to turn i
The Alpha walks away without looking back, and I frown, my mind scrambling to make sense of what just happened.Why is he masking his scent with Beta musk?I know what I smelled. I know what my instincts screamed the moment I looked up at him. That was an Alpha. A strong one, but the second he got close, that overwhelming scent, the one that made something deep inside me lock onto him, was… dulled. The chemical undertone of Beta musk is unmistakable, a synthetic layer meant to cover up something more potent. But why? Why would an Alpha hide what he is?Is this the one they told me about?I shake my head, pushing the thought away for now, but my fingers twitch at my sides, my body still wired from whatever just happened. I didn’t mean to flash my silver, but the moment my eyes locked onto his, the moment I felt the weight of his attention, something in me reacted on instinct. I’ve been raised better than that. Omegas don’t flash silver to just anyone. It’s a call, a signal meant for t
The morning starts with a pill on my tongue, bitter as hell but necessary.I swallow it dry, my fingers lingering against my throat for a second longer than necessary, as if making sure it goes down. My scent was everywhere yesterday, lingering in the halls, probably still clinging to the administration office, curling around him when he got close. That won’t happen again. I can’t afford for it to happen again.Once my scent is locked down, I get ready. My uniform isn’t technically regulation, but no one’s going to say anything unless they want to admit they have a problem with an Omega dressing how he wants to instead of how they expect him to. The skirt fits perfectly, pleated and short but not too short, brushing mid-thigh when I move. The blouse is crisp, tucked neatly, and I add just a touch of makeup—mascara to darken my lashes, a hint of gloss on my lips, a little shimmer on my cheekbones because, well, why the hell not?My hair is hanging in loose waves down my back with a h
By the time I make it to my dorm, my head is a fucking mess.I slam the door shut behind me and exhale hard, dragging a hand through my hair before pacing the length of the room. My muscles are tight, my instincts still firing off in ways I don’t like, my skin buzzing with something I don’t want to acknowledge.That Omega.That fucking Omega.He’s trouble. He’s a temptation. He’s everything I don’t need wrapped up in a short fucking skirt and a knowing little smirk, like he already figured me out before I even opened my mouth.I’d felt fine this morning. I had everything under control. The second he walked up to me outside that building, that went to hell.The way he looked at me, those big, pretty eyes flicking over my face like he was studying something interesting, like he was filing me away for later. And then the way his mouth curled, that tiny hint of amusement when I called him Princess—fuck, it took everything in me not to react.And I couldn’t react.Because he thinks I’m a B
The next day, I tell myself I’m not looking for him.I tell myself I don’t give a shit where he is, what he’s doing, or who he’s with. I tell myself I have bigger things to focus on, more important things to worry about than some stubborn, sharp-eyed Omega who walks like he owns the damn place and dresses like he wants people to stare.I tell myself all of this—Then I see him.He’s standing next to Tyler of all people, head tilted slightly as he listens to whatever the other Omega is saying. His long curls are shining under the morning light, a soft halo of gold that only makes him look more like trouble, and he’s wearing a skirt again—short, pleated, the fabric brushing against his thighs in a way that shouldn’t make my fingers itch.I tell myself I’m just looking because he’s new. Because I need to keep an eye on him. Because my father told me to.But none of those are the real reason.The real reason is the way something inside me locks onto him the moment I see him. The way my en
I need to get the fuck out of here.My body reacts before my brain does, my legs moving on instinct, pushing me away from Jacob, away from the quad, away from the way he looked at me. My heart is hammering in my chest, blood rushing in my ears, drowning out everything except the single, horrifying realization that I lost control.I never lose control.I barely remember weaving through the hallways, my breath coming faster, my fingers tightening around the strap of my bag like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. I don’t stop, don’t glance back, don’t risk seeing him again. I just keep going.By the time I reach my dorm, I swipe my keycard so fast that I nearly drop it. The second the door unlocks, I shove it open, step inside, and slam it shut behind me, my back hitting the wood as I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to breathe.What the fuck just happened?My hands are shaking and my fucking scent is everywhere.I swallow hard, pushing off the door, dropping my bag onto the floor as I
The scent changes before either of us says another word.It’s subtle at first—sweet and familiar, like ripe peaches hanging heavy on the branch, but then it shifts. Grows thicker, headier. There’s heat behind it now, and it hits me all at once, coating my lungs and curling around my instincts like a damn vice.“Xavier,” I murmur, voice low and full of warning. My hand tightens where it’s resting on his hip. “That scent. You need to pull it back.”His eyes flick up to mine, steady and calm. That perfect omega calm that hides all the fire underneath. “Why?” he asks simply, like it’s nothing. Like the sudden ache in my gut and the hard press of my cock against his back is something we can just ignore.My grip tightens again, and I fight to keep my voice level. “Because I’m not gonna be able to stop myself if you don’t.”He turns in my arms slowly, his skin sliding against mine under the water, every brush of his body lighting me up like a fucking fuse. His hands find my chest, sliding ov
Jacob doesn’t speak as we walk through the estate. Doesn’t comment when I hesitate slightly near the front foyer, my body remembering the tension of walking through those doors earlier. He just grabs my hand and keeps walking until we reach the garage doors.When he opens one, I blink.Inside, lined up neatly like something out of a magazine, are cars. Sleek, glossy, expensive as hell. A few motorcycles. And in the back, tucked in the corner, a matte black four-wheeler that looks like it’s seen actual off-road chaos.I blink again. “You want me to drive that?”“No,” Jacob says, grinning. “I’m driving. You’re riding.”I stare at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on a four-wheeler.”He shrugs. “Then you’re about to lose your off-roading virginity.”I groan. “You’re unbearable.”He tosses me a helmet from the shelf. “And you love it.”A few minutes later, we’re flying across the property—through the trees, over dirt trails I didn’t even know were there. The wind whips around us, fast an
I try to keep breathing, even though it feels like I can’t draw a full breath without the edges of it catching on the panic that’s trying to rise again.But Jacob’s father isn’t finished. “There’s one more thing.”I look up, because I have to. Because it’s the only way to brace for it, whatever it is. He meets my gaze directly, and there’s something there—something heavier than before. Not just grim facts or legal consequences. Guilt, maybe. Or regret.And that scares me more than anything.Jacob shifts beside me, sitting straighter. “What now?”“There’s a possibility,” his father begins, each word carefully measured, “that Xavier may need to testify.”The words don’t land right away. I blink, mind scrambling to catch up, to translate.“Testify?” I echo, the word dry in my mouth.Jacob’s head snaps toward his father, eyes narrowing. “You’re kidding.”His father shakes his head once, solemn and steady. “Not in the immediate future. But down the line—if this goes to trial, if the other
Breakfast is warm and quiet and—oddly enough—kind of perfect.Jacob’s seated across from me at the massive kitchen island, shirtless again because he has no shame and apparently no awareness of how distracting he is when he’s pouring coffee with that smug little grin on his face. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla is thick in the air from the French toast he made, and I’m on my second slice because I have no self-control when it comes to food that tastes like comfort and safety.We’re teasing each other about something ridiculous—I think it started with whether or not I could take him in a fight and has now devolved into him impersonating my voice and dramatically swooning over how broad his shoulders are.“You’re obsessed,” I say flatly, trying not to laugh as I stab another bite with my fork. “Seriously, Jacob, this is starting to look like a cry for attention.”“Oh, I’m obsessed?” he counters, leaning back in his chair and flexing way too obviously, just to make a point. “You were t
The moment I wake, I know something’s wrong.I’m not in danger. There’s no immediate threat. But the cold weight sitting on my chest tells me something dark followed me out of sleep, curled its claws around my ribs and pulled me under just long enough to rattle everything inside me. I lie there for a minute, blinking up at the soft shadows cast by the moonlight through the window. The sheets are tangled around my legs, and my shirt is damp with sweat, clinging to my back like it’s trying to hold on to the nightmare that’s already slipping through my fingers.I can’t remember all of it. Just fragments. Heat and cold. A closed door that wouldn’t open. Voices I recognized but couldn’t place. My own hands pounding against something that wouldn’t move. And that feeling—that helpless, suffocating weight pressing down on my chest like I was back in that house, back in that life where nothing was mine.My heart’s still racing. My breathing’s uneven.I sit up slowly, rubbing my hands over my
My father’s message is simple and direct, sent through one of his staff. “Jacob, come to my office—alone,” it reads, clear and blunt as ever. The wording puts a knot in my stomach instantly, a tense coil tightening just under my ribs. I glance briefly toward the living area where Xavier is curled up on the plush sofa, wrapped in a soft blanket, paging through a stack of books and magazines as he plans out his nest. He looks peaceful right now, content and safe, and I hate the idea of disturbing that sense of calm. So I slip away quietly, nodding to the staff member in acknowledgment before moving down the familiar halls toward my father’s office.I knock once before stepping inside, finding him at his desk, his expression solemn and serious as he glances up to meet my gaze. He gestures toward the chair opposite him, his mouth drawn into a tight, thin line that sends another wave of apprehension through me. My father is a controlled man, rarely allowing emotion to slip through his c
After this morning, I’m still wired as hell.Every cell in my body is keyed up, simmering just under the surface, my instincts scratching at the walls of my control, demanding I do something about it. I’ve tasted him now—felt Xavier’s mouth under mine, heard the little noises he makes when he’s desperate for more—and pulling back from that took everything I had. It wasn’t just about control, either. It’s about respect. About letting him be certain first. The last thing Xavier needs right now is to rush into something he’s not fully ready for. So, despite every cell in my body screaming at me to turn around, pin him against the nearest flat surface, and claim him properly, I’m determined to wait until Xavier himself knows exactly what he wants.But knowing I need to take it slow doesn’t make the tension in me any easier to handle. I can feel the electricity thrumming between us as we walk through the hallways of the estate, and every damn step closer to him makes my jaw tighten and
One of his hands lifts, his knuckles trailing the length of my jaw, barely a whisper of contact, but it sets my nerves on fire. I suck in a sharp breath, my body going still, my pulse hammering as his fingers trace down, following the delicate column of my throat before stopping at the base of my neck.And then, just to be a bastard, he presses his thumb against my pulse. I know he can feel how fast it is. I know he can tell what he’s doing to me.Jacob hums again, tilting his head slightly, watching me like he’s testing something, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll push him away or pull him closer. I know what he’s doing. He’s letting me set the pace, letting me decide how far this goes, if it goes anywhere at all.I should make him suffer. I should lean back and laugh it off, make some snarky comment, pretend like he doesn’t have me wrapped around his finger.But I don’t.Instead, I lift my chin just slightly, baring my throat a fraction more, letting him see what he’s doing to me, le
Warmth.That’s the first thing I notice when I wake up—how warm and safe I feel, wrapped in soft comforters, my body completely relaxed for the first time in weeks. There’s a moment where I forget where I am, forget everything that’s happened, but as my eyes slowly blink open and I take in the unfamiliar but luxurious surroundings, it all comes rushing back.I let out a slow breath, pressing my face into the pillow for a second before rolling onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. The memories of the previous day should send me spiraling, but they don’t. Not this time. Because I have something now—someone. I have Jacob.And if I have him, I don’t need them.My parents aren’t family. Family wouldn’t have tried to mold me into something I wasn’t. Family wouldn’t have hidden the truth from me, and wouldn’t have tried to keep me from my mate.Jacob’s father, for all his coldness and indifference, made sure I was safe. Jacob made sure I was safe. They didn’t just tell me I was theirs—the