Archive of Our Own

Living as a pack for over a year, their scenting habits have naturally fallen into a pattern. By the time Wumuti gets up in the morning, the air is heavy with Rui and Hyun’s combined scents, the perfect harmony of it at odds with their bickering. With Rui, she offers her wrist and takes his in return, which they rub under each other’s jaws like fine perfume; next, Hyun hands her the clothes they’ll wear for the day, then hovers over her like rain on dry soil as she infuses each piece of fabric with her scent. 

When it comes to Haru, things are… a little different.

Wumuti doesn’t mean to be overbearing. But she has to be thorough because he’s still just a pup, yet to present, and he needs his pack’s mark to ward off danger. It’s only logical that she, as the eldest, take up the task. So after ensuring he’s had a hearty breakfast, she tugs at his hand and leads him to her room, where her scent permeates every breath of air. On the bed, Haru clambers onto her lap, clinging to her with a sunny little purr. 

It’s as comforting to him as it is to Wumuti. Haru being Haru makes her extra protective, makes her bundle him up against her chest and pour out so much of her scent that her glands tingle, and she’s only satisfied when he smells so much like her that a lesser alpha would be hard-pressed to tell them apart. Wumuti’s nose, however, is exceptionally keen, and she delights in the natural scent of his skin, faint though it is — usually. 

Today, something about him smells different. 

Wumuti does a double take when she noses behind his ear. She makes a puzzled noise in the back of her throat, then nuzzles closer, breathing in long and deep. Haru echoes the noise, but Wumuti is too focused to respond — focused on how sweet Haru is. He’s always sweet, but what was subtle before is stronger now, thick like warm milk.

Wumuti likes it. She likes it a lot. She’ll ask him what sort of lotion he’s using later, but for now, she curls her fingers into his hair and presses him closer, her lips parting to take in more of that scent.

“Hah,” Haru gasps, blunt nails digging into Wumuti’s back. He wiggles on her lap like he’s trying to crawl inside her body. It’s distracting, so she grazes her fangs on the side of his neck with a playful warning growl. 

Haru goes limp in her arms. His purring deepens, and his smell grows so rich that Wumuti starts to feel dizzy. 

Both as an alpha and a perfume connoisseur, she’s never smelled anything like this — sweet and spicy, fresh and hot all at once. The kind of smell Wumuti would love to have in a pretty package that she can take along wherever she goes. Except — she already has it, doesn’t she? There is no prettier package than Haru, and they’re always glued at the hip, anyway. All he has to do is smell this good everyday and let Wumuti have her fill of him until she’s satisfied. 

It will be difficult, though, to be satisfied. Even like this, with her face tucked where he smells the strongest, it’s still not enough. Instinctively, Wumuti’s tongue peeks out of her mouth, the tip only barely touching the spot where Haru’s scent glands are still developing.

It’s hot, and it tastes fucking delicious. 

“Mommy,” Haru whimpers, shuddering when Wumuti licks a rough stripe up his neck — and another, and another. She closes her mouth over the swell in his skin and sucks, and Haru seizes up with a cry.  

It takes a moment to register it — the sudden wetness against the front of her pants. 

Wumuti pulls back with a wet click, blinking rapidly through the fog in her brain. Haru’s taste is thick in her mouth, and she wants nothing more than to dive back in, but something is very clearly wrong. Scrambling to gather her thoughts, she cups Haru’s face in her hands, only now realizing how abnormally hot he’s running. He’s flushed up to his temples, eyes glazed over as his head lolls back in her hold. Her nostrils flare when his hips twitch weakly on her lap, and she distinctly smells the exact moment a fresh gush of slick comes out of him. 

“Haru,” Wumuti calls, voice scratchy and alarmed. “Haru, baby, can you hear me?”

All Haru does is whine and stretch his neck out further, and the wave of spicy sweetness that pours from him is so potent that Wumuti feels a familiar itch in her gums. 

Fuck. Fuck.

“Baby, I think you’re presenting,” she says, much steadier than she feels. She tries to pry him off, to at least sit him on her knees and not her swelling fucking cock, but all of sudden it’s like Haru weighs a ton. “You have to let go, I can’t be here while you…”

While her little Haru leaks down his thighs and whines and begs for a knot. The mere thought of it is unbearable. 

“I’ll call Hyunnie, okay? Just let me—” Wumuti pushes on his shoulders, and Haru snaps at her with a vicious snarl.

She does not make it a habit to abuse their dynamic. Although she’s bigger and stronger than him, up until now, Wumuti has only ever handled Haru gently, and never once even considered using a command against him. But she can feel herself on the edge of doing something much, much worse, so she reins in her guilt and pinches the back of Haru’s neck. 

It’s extremely easy, pinning Haru facedown on the bed. He goes without a noise, every inch of his body locked still.

Wumuti leans in to murmur in his ear, “When I let go, you’ll be a good pup for me and stay just like this. Understood?”

She loosens her hold the slightest bit, just enough that Haru can move his mouth.

“...Yes, Alpha,” he whimpers into the mattress. 

Wumuti lets go as if it burns.

Leaving the thick cloud of Haru’s erratic pheromones is disorienting. Wumuti stumbles across the living room, panting harshly, her pants tenting under the stain of Haru’s slick. She yanks the fridge open and shoves all the useless trash aside until she finds the autoinjector she swore to never touch again, and promptly stabs it into her thigh. 

As the suppressant rushes into her bloodstream, Wumuti slumps onto the floor. Her pounding heart begins to settle, and her thoughts regain some semblance of order. This is a mistake she will pay for with night chills and painful cramps and watery vomit, and if Rui finds out, he’ll tear her a new one on top of that. Or worse: he might cry. Black label suppressants are not meant to be used lightly. Wumuti promised she would only use them for the recommended maximum of six months, just so she could dedicate herself fully to their debut preparations, to ensure this last chance would not go to waste. 

She had not considered that her resolve before Haru would be so weak.

“Hyun,” Wumuti croaks out. “Jinhyung!”

She smells their concern before she even hears their stomping downstairs. Hyun makes for her as soon as they see her, pitifully crumpled against the fridge, but Wumuti shoves them away and points towards her room. 

“Haru’s presenting,” she says weakly. “Give him that box we gave you and leave plenty of water in my room. Ask Rui to bring painkillers, vitamins, protein bars… whatever he needs.” 

Hyun straightens themself, nodding. When they went through this experience two years ago, they at least had Rui to make it easier. The thought of her baby Haru going through his first heat all alone makes Wumuti sick to her stomach, but she trusts no alpha to help him through it — herself least of all. 

“...Make sure the door’s locked from both sides,” Wumuti mutters, so ashamed of herself that she refuses to look Hyun in the eye. 

As soon as Hyun is gone, Wumuti tucks her head between her knees and does not move for the next hour. 

Night comes and goes miserably, devoid of any sleep. At first, Wumuti tries to bear the side effects of the suppressants on her own, curled into a shivering ball on the living room couch, but it’s like every nerve in her body is attuned to the room down the hallway, every muffled wail and moan ringing through her ears with the echo of a gong. 

The smell is driving her insane. 

When she slips into Rui’s room, he sluggishly lifts the covers over the empty spot to his right and tucks her in without a word. Hyun is there, too, peacefully asleep to Rui’s left, their steady purr filling the silence. Wumuti tosses her long hair over her shoulder and keeps to the edge of the bed, so as not to disturb them with her cold sweating. She has half a mind to ask Rui to knock her out.

It could be worse. She could be in the throes of a rut right now, consumed by a deep, primal hunger that can only be sated by bite, blood, break. Since presenting at sixteen, every one of Wumuti’s ruts has been nothing short of brutal. It runs in the family, as luck will have it. They’d done as much as they could to prepare her, even helping her find partners eager to lay with a crazed alpha that can easily tear them apart. But no matter how helpful, how willing, once the veil of the rut lifts and she has to face the bruised, battered body next to her, the guilt and shame hang around her throat like a noose for days on end. 

It’s difficult to reconcile the kind of person Wumuti thinks herself to be with what this side of her is capable of. Her upbringing had been exceedingly loving, and Wumuti has always strived to pay it forward doubled — so much so that pups in this cutthroat industry will flock to her wherever she goes, drawn in by her gentle, dependable mien. Pups like Haru, who, from the moment they met, clung to her kindness and warmth with stars in his eyes. Whose precious crinkled smile Wumuti would do anything to protect. This is how she’s meant to see him. 

In the darkness, however, that image twists into something else: waking up in her own room, her own bed, Haru’s smaller body crushed beneath her, bruised black and blue. 

Her stomach churns. She slips off the bed to lock this door, too, then snuggles up to Rui’s back, reaching across to hug them both. 

A blink’s worth of rest is all she gets before the sun rises.

Work helps keep her mind off unwanted thoughts, at least for a couple hours. Jaeyoung calls for a snack break three hours into Wumuti talking his ears off about costuming, and she kicks back on the meeting room’s uncomfortable couch while he’s gone, picking up her phone for the first time today. It’s a good thing that Jaeyoung is a beta, because Wumuti knows she smells a damn mess right now — part of why she left home so early, forgoing their scenting rituals altogether. It’s the first time since they moved in together that she misses out on it, which leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, but she would feel even worse subjecting them to the bitterness of her scent.

Hyun’s tacit understanding is as mortifying as it is appreciated. Without Wumuti even having to ask, they’ve taken to delivering hourly updates in their private messages, the latest of which reads:

Hyunnie’s log - Entry 4:

The worst of the storm has passed. (cheers)

Thank you, my heart. 

How is he?

He’s eating and drinking, but,,,

When he saw that you weren’t here, his scent got really sourㅠㅠ

Hyung burned three incense sticks already…

Wumuti lets out a shuddering breath. She’s done all she could to keep her thoughts off Haru this entire morning, but it’s hard not to imagine him lost and confused, surrounded by traces of her yet unable to find her. 

Is Rui handling it alright?

Same as before

The smell made him feel sick, so he borrowed my nest

I’m currently losing feeling in my left arm

Please save me. 

End of Hyunnie’s log - Entry 4

That is expected, of course. Wumuti had glimpsed that uncomfortable truth the night prior, when, upon returning to the dorm, Rui’s reaction had been a mere twist of the nose, as if the mouth-watering smell coming from Wumuti’s room were nothing but an inconvenience. That despite Rui being an alpha just like her, she is the only one who cannot be trusted around their youngest. 

She’s about to tell Hyun her plans to spend the rest of the day out when the screen lights up with another series of texts:

If it’s difficult to come home now, I understand

But I think he really needs you. 

I went into your room to check earlier, and I found him curled up in your wardrobe

He kept trying to put on a brave face

It’s a bit heartbreaking;;;

And the fact of the matter is that, as much as Wumuti cannot be trusted with Haru, she cannot be trusted without him, either.

She steps into their apartment with her breath held and an excess of bags in her hands, all of them filled with Haru’s favorite treats. The hum of the laundry machine calls her attention, and that’s where she finds him sitting, his head down, his legs dangling back and forth over the round glass window. His very bare legs. The top of his thighs, pale and dotted by beauty marks, is barely covered by a t-shirt that’s much too big for him. 

Wumuti recognizes it as one of her own. Her heart swells so that she can’t help the fond sigh that leaves her. 

Haru startles; one of his fluffy fox slippers goes flying, and even his black hair seems to puff up. Wumuti crouches to get the poor fox. 

“Sorry about your shirt,” Haru rushes to say, his shoulders tense. “I grabbed it without thinking. I’ll wash it after this.” 

“It’s okay,” Wumuti says softly. 

She drops to her knees before him and gently tucks his bare foot into the slipper. Haru watches her through his bangs, his eyes darting between her face and her touch.

Wumuti strokes his calf.

“If it helps, you can keep it.”  

That seems to ease him a bit, though clearly there is more to it. As Wumuti caresses the back of his legs, she patiently watches Haru muster the courage to say what he means.

“Hyung,” he mutters at last. “Hyung, does this mean you can’t scent me like we do anymore?” 

“Says who?”

“Rui and Hyun—I mean, they didn’t say it, but you don’t scent them like that. Now that I’m, you know… Is it not…” He stumbles over the word, which comes out adorably stiff: “A-appropriate?”

“There’s no such thing,” Wumuti says, standing up and bundling him into her arms to make a point. Haru clutches her so tight with his hands and legs that he nearly slides off the washing machine. His warmth is dizzying. Wumuti pushes his hips back a little, chuckling. “Don’t worry, baby. Nothing has to change. You’re still my pup all the same, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Haru says, rubbing his cheek against her hair. “‘M’yours.” 

Nothing has to change. So she says, yet Wumuti has been careful to breathe through her mouth this entire time, and even then, hearing Haru acknowledge her claim on him makes her cock throb.

She pulls away with a shaky smile and smoothes a hand over Haru’s bangs, baring his handsome forehead.

“Are you hungry? I brought some of your favorites.”

“Urgh, no… They forced me to eat all morning, I’m stuffed full…” 

Wumuti quirks her eyebrow. 

“Doesn’t seem like it,” she says, tickling Haru’s flat tummy and pulling a squeaky noise out of him.

Something is fucking wrong with her. It must be, because her next logical thought is ensuring his belly is properly stuffed — with her pups. 

She has to get it together. My God.

“How about a movie, then? I’ll go change and you can bring the futon downstairs.” 

“Okay!” Haru chirps. 

Wumuti means to make it quick, to dash in and out of her room without acknowledging what has transpired here. However, she makes the crucial mistake of inhaling through her nose, and her feet halt by the neatly-done bed. 

It’s barely perceptible. They did a great job, really. Everything is in its place, and the air is thick with the wooden fragrance of her favorite freshener. It’s not their fault that Wumuti is a freak with the nose of a bloodhound. 

The scent is strongest near the bed. Muted, yet distinctive, a rich sweetness with a spicy hint to it. Wumuti runs her nose through the sheets, breathing in deeply, and their disruptive laundry-freshness makes her growl in her chest. She bunches them up and carelessly tosses them aside, then rubs her face into the mattress, where Haru’s new scent has seeped into and made itself at home. 

In between short, sharp breaths, something slightly damp brushes her nose. Wumuti blinks, trying to make sense of what she’s seeing for a hazy moment. There is a small stain on the mattress, dark and only barely glistening. She sniffs at it, and her eyes nearly roll back at how wonderful it smells. 

It’s slick.

Haru’s slick.

Her mouth falls open, and she licks at it with a desperate whimper, shuddering hard. 

Arousal shoots through her. Her hips jerk, her cock so stupidly hard it threatens to poke a hole through her pants. It’s so good, so fucking good. Like a drop of the sweetest, most exotic honey. Already panting, Wumuti pulls herself out and works a tight fist over her cock. She rolls the taste of Haru around her mouth, coating his essence behind her teeth, under her tongue, to the back of her throat.

She’s slobbering down her chin, but she refuses to swallow — not yet. There’s so little of it in the mattress, and God, Wumuti wishes there were enough to rub on her cock, to make herself wet with her baby’s slick; fuck, to put it in a bottle and wear it like perfume, or even sprinkle it over her food for breakfast, lunch, dinner, a snack. Wumuti moans aloud, the tip of her tongue flickering over the stain as her thoughts stray further: why a bottle, when she can have it straight from the source? Haru is so pliant with her, so easy to manhandle. Wumuti can bend him over and pin his neck and suck the slick right out of his hole, and there is nothing Haru can do but whine for Mommy about it.

Wumuti’s release zaps up her spine in a blink. Her fist is a blur on her cock, thick semen splattering on the side of the bed. Her knot swells so fat, so quick, she has to grip it with both hands, and Wumuti buries a strangled noise into the mattress as she squeezes it so hard she sees stars.

Nothing has to change, she said. Liar.

Everything has already changed.

The next morning, when Haru stands in front of her, rocking on the balls of his feet, eyes bright with anticipation, Wumuti silences her instinct and gives him her wrist. 

Haru stares at it, confused.

“We don’t have much time today,” Wumuti says apologetically, and that much is true; their manager is already waiting in the car downstairs. “Here, I’ll show you.”

The way Haru’s shoulders droop is subtle, but Wumuti catches it all the same. She tells herself it’s only for the moment — just until she feels that she can touch him without pushing him down and having her way with him.

Wumuti brings her wrist closer to Haru’s face. After seeking her eyes for reassurance, he leans in to sniff at it hesitantly, as if expecting her to smell different there somehow. It strikes Wumuti that they’ve never really done it like this before — from the moment they met, they’ve always scented each other’s necks, where their smell is the strongest. It just always felt like the most natural way to go about it.

Satisfied with what his little puppy nose has found, Haru’s face relaxes, and he rubs his cheek against Wumuti’s wrist with a soft chirp. She brings it under his sharp jaw — not the graceful dabs she shares with Rui, but slow, firm strokes into his skin that leave no doubt as to who has marked him, and Haru loses himself in it, cradling her arm with both hands as he begins to purr. His eyelids flutter, and his wet lips fall open, his growing fangs barely peeking out of his mouth. Wumuti’s heart melts. 

She taps Haru’s cheek gently. “That’s it for now. We’ll do more later, okay?”

Haru blinks like he just stumbled out of a dream. His scent-drunk face is gorgeous, and Wumuti loathes to see it gone within seconds. 

“Yeah, alright,” says Haru, his voice a little raspy. But when Wumuti makes to retract her arm, he holds on tighter. “Mama?”

“...What is it?”

“Can you—can you give me something that smells like you, for now? Like you do with Hyunnie? I’m still a little…” he trails off, still skittish around the topic of his heat. 

Give him your dirty underwear, says Wumuti’s instinct.

“I have a spare handkerchief,” she offers instead. 

For someone with Wumuti’s peculiar sense of smell, the stage can be a nightmare. Rui describes it as a cloud of incense, the foreign smells from the crowd blending with their own into a single homogeneous fragrance. For Wumuti, that’s not quite the case. She can pick out individual scents in a crowd of hundreds, and while most of the time she’s proud of her keen nose, the cacophony bouncing off the walls of their small venues has given her a headache one time too many. Thankfully, the staff is used to it by this point, and as soon as they enter the waiting room, someone hands her a half-empty bottle of nasal drops. 

As the sterile scent fills her nostrils, it strikes Wumuti that Haru has barely had any chance to adjust to his heightened sense of smell, and being thrown into a crowd so soon after presenting might be just as overwhelming for him as it is for her. She glances around the room, bottle of nasal drops in hand, and finds Haru awaiting his turn on the loveseat at the back, his face buried into the scented handkerchief Wumuti gave him.

Haru seems completely unaware of the world outside his little bubble. Wumuti takes in the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in her essence; the peaceful flutter of his eyelids when he rubs the handkerchief against the scent glands on his neck. The buzzing of stylists and makeup artists around them fades to background noise when Haru’s eyes open, finding Wumuti’s unblinking gaze from across the room. 

Wumuti licks over her fangs slowly. Haru’s eyes briefly flicker to her mouth before meeting hers again. Neither of them look away. 

“Your turn,” says the stylist next to her. 

On the way back to the dorm, Wumuti drops by a nearby pharmacy while the rest of the pack dozes off in the car. After walking her through a selection of scent repellants, the attendant at the counter, whose vulgar perfume makes Wumuti queasy, regards her with a knowing noise. 

“You’re an alpha, right?” he asks. “If your omega is the issue, having them wear scent blockers would be a lot cheaper and much less troublesome for you.”  

He slides a box of scent-blocking patches over the counter. Wumuti feels her eyebrow twitch. 

“There’s nothing wrong with my omega,” she says flatly. “I’ll take the spray. The expensive one.” 

My omega. My omega, my omega, my omega, she thinks, a ceaseless loop in her mind as Haru rubs himself all over her, purring in between sweet giggles whenever Wumuti tickles him. The spray has earned its price; even with his scent gland right before her nose, she can only barely smell the warmth of his skin, with none of that disgusting, frigid odor she loathes. Wumuti sighs against Haru’s warm cheek. It’s a relief, but it also breaks her heart a little, having to resort to this sort of thing. She wishes she could indulge in Haru’s beautiful scent without hating herself for it. 

“I really love you,” mutters Haru all of a sudden. 

Wumuti squeezes him against her chest. Yes, Haru is hers. Even if she doesn’t claim him, even if someone else does it, he will always be Wumuti’s first and foremost. 

“Love you too,” she whispers. 

Haru fidgets in her hold. She glances down to find him staring, so she makes an inquisitive noise. 

“I was really worried, you know,” Haru begins. 

“About what?”

“That I’d stink.” 

Laughter bursts out of Wumuti’s mouth. 

“Hyung, I’m serious,” Haru protests, tugging at her long braid as she cackles. “I know your nose is sensitive, and Rui-hyung kept saying I smelled like a wet dog…” 

“I’ll beat him up for you,” says Wumuti seriously. “Your scent is perfectly fine, baby, I promise.” 

“What is it like?”

Like walking through the street markets back home, taking in the smells of all the food she loves. Like the last of Wumuti’s control slipping through her fingers.

“Like Haru,” Wumuti says, stroking the hair on his nape.

Haru’s eyes slide shut. “What fragrance note is that…?”

“A really rare one.” Wumuti kisses his forehead. “And it just so happens to be my favorite.” 

Perhaps it’s because it feels like Wumuti’s last rut happened a lifetime ago, even though it’s been little more than a year. Or perhaps it’s easier on the mind to set it aside, with how hectic their daily life is. When the first signs begin to appear, Wumuti doesn’t allow herself to dwell on them. When she finds herself flushed and dripping with sweat midway through practice, she ditches her tracksuit for the sake of a tank top and shorts, even though the rest of the pack is perfectly fine in their long-sleeved shirts. When Jaeyoung casts doubt on their styling of choice for the upcoming album, Wumuti catches herself just in time to avoid growling through bared teeth, massaging her temples and adjourning their meeting instead. And when Haru so much as makes his presence known—

Wumuti can’t stop looking at him. 

All of him, but especially the area around his neck — his collarbones, his nape, the sweet protrusion of his Adam’s apple. Haru takes a swing of water while they talk, and Wumuti trails off, enraptured by the movement of his throat. Haru tips his head back with laughter, and on the other side of the room, Wumuti feels the pulse of the thick vein running up the side of his neck in her gums. 

She knows, of course. Yet it still makes her stiffen when Rui comments on it one morning.

“Your rut is coming, right?” An entirely rhetorical question, going by the face he made upon sniffing Wumuti’s wrist. 

“...I should have a couple weeks,” Wumuti admits, begrudgingly. 

“Have you figured out how you’re going to…” His eyes briefly dart to the direction of Haru’s room. “Have you figured something out yet?”

“I won’t put him in danger, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I didn’t mean—”

He pauses as Hyun shuffles into the kitchen, yawning, and they exchange a lasting glance: we’ll talk later. 

Truthfully, Wumuti had counted on at least a couple months to work out a solution. But it’s clear that she underestimated her tolerance to the suppressant, as well as the consequences of soaking in the pheromones of a little omega who makes no effort to restrain his scent at home — not that Wumuti would ever force him to. Haru is so damn pleased whenever he succeeds in thoroughly marking her. She can’t find it in herself to take this away from him just yet. They can get away with it for a few more days, if she continues tripling her usage of the nasal spray. 

Soon, however, even that is not enough.

While Rui is out with some of the members from their Chinese group chat, the foreign movie Hyun picked fills the living room with a steady murmur. It’s still early evening, but Wumuti finds herself drifting in and out of sleep, lulled by the quiet voices from the TV and the weight of Haru on top of her. His purring rumbles through their chests, and the gentle caress of his nose under her jaw follows her into a senseless dream. 

The dream wavers under a rich fragrance that seems to take physical shape. Then it fractures, and the scent slams into Wumuti, so thick it startles her into full consciousness. She comes to with a pounding heart, every hair on her body standing on end. Haru’s purr cuts short as he realizes something is wrong. 

“Mama?” Haru calls, rubbing her chest in what he probably thinks is a soothing gesture. 

It only makes Wumuti burn hotter.

“Get… Get off me for a second,” she wheezes, barely giving him a moment before shoving him aside and scrambling to her feet. 

Wumuti bursts into her room. She dashes for the vanity, knocking off half of her makeup products while trying to grab the scent-numbing spray. This shouldn’t be happening. She’d used it just a couple hours ago. Her pre-rut can’t be this strong. It can’t be.

Wumuti inhales the spray — one, three, five times, until her nose has gone numb. 

“What are you doing?”

Like a wild animal caught in the headlights, Wumuti looks up to find Haru standing in the doorway. 

She feels insane. Hunched over in the middle of her room, snorting chemicals to stop herself from mounting her baby omega, who still, at this very moment, looks at her like she’s anything other than a gross old woman-thing. 

Wumuti doesn’t want to lie. But she doesn’t want to shatter his trust, either. To make Haru think all the affection between them so far was nothing but a front for her perverted desires.

“You lied to me,” Haru says softly. 

Wumuti is stumped.

“What?”

“I saw it the other day, when I came here to borrow your perfume,” continues Haru, rubbing his arm in a way that makes him seem even smaller than he already is. “That thing you’re using. It’s so you can’t smell me, isn’t it?”

His dark bangs fall over his eyes, his voice growing thin. 

“Is… Is my scent really so disgusting that you can’t stand it?”

“No,” Wumuti snarls, irked by the mere suggestion. “Absolutely not. Don’t ever say something like that again.” 

She regrets the harshness in her tone when Haru recoils, and immediately wills her face to soften. Wumuti puts down the spray, runs a hand through her hair, knowing she’s only trying to buy time before their relationship changes irrevocably. 

It was her failure to draw the line as the adult. It’s only fair that Haru gets to draw it now.

Wumuti sighs.

“Mama really, really likes your scent. So much so that it makes her want to do things she should never even think about. Do you get it now?”

She forces herself to look at Haru’s face, because he deserves at least this much. What she finds there makes her do a double-take. 

Haru is bright red.

“W-What kind of things?” 

Wumuti looks at him — really looks at him. She knows her baby inside out, and this isn’t a display of disgust or betrayal. He’s shifting on his feet the way he does when he’s particularly excited about something, and peering through his lashes like he does when he’s trying to gain her attention. 

Wumuti’s heart rate picks up again.

“You’re not that innocent, baby. You know what kind of things,” she says slowly. 

 “I can’t know if you won’t tell me,” Haru retorts, stepping closer — coy, cheeky, like they’re not talking about his mother figure wanting to fuck his brains out. 

Like he wouldn’t mind his mother figure fucking his brains out. 

Wumuti takes a deep breath. She can’t allow herself to read into things so carelessly, especially when her rut is near. 

“You know why I couldn’t stay near you during your heat,” she says, giving him a stern look. “You know what would’ve happened if I stayed. I’m not your real mom, Haru. I have eyes and a nose, and you’re a beautiful, healthy omega. I’m just trying to protect you.” 

“But you left Rui-hyung here with me,” Haru says, accusatory, and he’s close enough to touch now, looking up at Wumuti with his gorgeous neck bared. “You left me all alone, suffering, and you let another alpha near me when I needed you. It’s like you wanted him to knot me so you wouldn’t have to deal with—”

Wumuti grabs Haru by the back of the neck. 

Unlike the day of his heat, she pins him against the bed hard enough that he whimpers, his pretty face squashed into the mattress. 

In the back of Wumuti’s mind, she knows she’s being irrational; knows that Haru is riling her up on purpose. However, that does nothing to appease the ugly, twisted feeling constricting her ribs, nor the sudden urge to lock Haru up so that Rui never even glances his way again. 

Wumuti drapes herself over him, bearing her weight down without a care. But the brush of her lips on Haru’s nape is exceedingly sweet. 

“Watch your mouth, pup,” she mutters, “unless you want to get out of here pregnant.” 

Haru immediately starts babbling. 

Although his words are too muffled to discern, his intent is clear. Wumuti watches him for a moment, stunned. Then a laugh escapes through her nose. She sits up, exasperated, painfully aroused, and endlessly endeared by this ridiculous boy. 

She wouldn’t have blamed Haru if he had mistaken puppy love for genuine want. If that were the case, Wumuti had hoped a true taste of her desires would snap him out of it. It’s clear, however, that she’s been underestimating him. She smoothes a hand down his back in a silent apology, feeling his hips twitch under her. 

There’s another matter, of course. There’s the fact that Haru only knows the gentle, nurturing side of Wumuti, which has probably colored his view on her when it comes to sex. She wonders if he will still want to stay, once he learns what she’s like in rut. 

Not now, though. Soon. 

Realizing he’s no longer at risk of having his mouth wiped clean on the mattress, Haru lays his cheek on it, eyes squeezed shut. 

“I wasn’t just saying nonsense,” he mumbles. “I really, really needed you that day. It was so bad, Mommy, I thought I’d die. My body kept telling me that I did something wrong, that’s why my alpha wasn’t there. I don’t wanna go through that alone again.” 

The knowledge that he instinctively recognizes Wumuti as his alpha makes her heart flutter. Worse still, it coils hot in her loins. 

“You did nothing wrong, baby,” she croons, rubbing the small of Haru’s back. “I’m sorry I made you go through it alone. But you did so wonderfully, didn’t you? My brave little Haru. I’m really proud.” 

Haru shifts, pressing down harder on the bed. 

“‘S’nothing to be proud of,” he mumbles. “I—I did so many embarrassing things. Ugh…”

“Like what? Did you sniff Mommy’s underwear while touching your cunt?” Wumuti grazes her nails down Haru’s spine.

He shivers, whining high in his throat. His ears peek through his dark hair, flushed red, and Wumuti knows it’s a yes. 

God, she wishes she could smell him properly right now. Haru’s arousal is the barest hint of musk under her nose, making her cock fatten up against her thigh. 

“Good. I hoped you did.” Wumuti eases off Haru to lie by his side. She brushes his bangs away from his face as he blinks his eyes open. “Do you want to show me how you did it?” 

“Are you gonna make love to me? If I do?” 

His choice of words makes Wumuti smile. 

“If you do it well,” she teases. 

Haru wiggles his arms free from under his body and sticks out his pinky. “Promise?”

“Promise.” Wumuti entwines it with her own. “But no knotting.” 

“Why not?” 

Exasperated, and throbbing fucking hard, Wumuti kisses Haru’s nose with admirable restraint. “I wasn’t serious about getting you pregnant.” Yet. “You’re just a baby.” 

Haru sulks, and Wumuti is helpless to lean in and kiss his lips. 

He surges up to meet her, mouth eager and sloppy like the inexperienced pup he is. She nudges him onto his back, and he goes easily, letting Wumuti play in his mouth with her tongue. 

She licks over Haru’s baby fangs as her hand trails down his stomach. When Wumuti tugs at the waistband of his shorts, Haru lifts his hips, letting her rip it off swiftly. Between his thin thighs, his cocklet lies nested among dark curls, perky with interest. Wumuti’s fingers reach below to expose his pussy, lovely light brown, and so wet that his lips stick together when she spreads them apart.  

“Oh, baby,” Wumuti whispers. “Gorgeous.” 

Haru’s hole clenches at the praise, leaking down his taint. 

“Did you touch here too?” Wumuti asks, rubbing slick on his asshole with her thumb. 

“N-no,” Haru whimpers, twitching. “I wanted to, but… I got scared…” 

“Mhn, Haru’s so small here. I’m glad he didn’t hurt himself.” Wumuti kisses down his stomach, nosing at his happy trail. “Did you use any of the dildos Hyunnie gave you? Tell me which and I’ll go get it.” 

“Um, just… the, uh, red one.” 

Wumuti pauses. There is no red one among that collection. 

“...You used mine?”

“Sorry,” Haru babbles, “I’m sorry, Mommy, don’t be mad. I washed it really well, I promise—”

Wumuti reaches for the vanity, nearly tumbling out of the bed as she rummages through the drawer. She pulls out the dildo in question — translucent red, slender, decently long, and covered in little indents that were definitely not there before.

She raises her eyebrows at Haru, who covers his face with a wail.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “My fangs just kept itching, I couldn’t stop… I’ll replace it.” 

 Wumuti laughs, fond. 

“It’s okay, there’s no need. Just… you can’t do that with the real thing, alright?” 

“I know,” Haru groans. 

Wumuti laughs again. Tossing the dildo aside, she yanks off her shirt and leans to hand it to Haru. Through his fingers, his eyes follow her small breasts, mesmerized. 

“Go on, then. Show your silly alpha what she missed.” 

Haru’s timid at first, stealing peeks at her as he presses her shirt against his face, like he’s afraid she will think him a pervert. Silly pup. He has no idea what a real pervert is. 

Soon her scent sinks in, and his face melts with pleasure. Wumuti watches, transfixed, as Haru rubs two fingers across his folds, making even more of a mess out of his sloppy cunt. His cocklet twitches happily, drooling a sticky line onto his wrist. 

Endeared, Wumuti strokes the underside with her thumb. “Won’t you give your clit a little love?” 

“Didn’t have to,” Haru pants. “Felt good here.” He slips his fingers into his hole, muffling a full-throated groan into Wumuti’s shirt.

Haru’s trying so hard to make her proud, fucking himself deep, forcing his thighs open when they threaten to clamp shut. Slick pools onto the sheets between his legs, and Wumuti follows its trail like she’s under a spell. 

Haru’s scent is so thick and raw here that not even the spray can cloak it. 

Wumuti noses around Haru’s cunt, sniffing him shamelessly, so turned on her head is spinning. Hunger overtakes her. She grabs Haru’s thighs, tries to close her mouth over where he’s dripping honey, but his fingers are in the way, and Wumuti nibbles at them with an annoyed growl. Flinching, Haru pulls them away. So obedient. So cute. Wumuti spreads him wide for her tongue, licking through his folds with an overwhelmed noise.

Her eager mouth finds his entrance, and Haru all but melts down her throat. She’s panting, trying to savor his gooey sweetness, to swallow it all down, and ends up just slobbering everywhere. Wumuti moans into his pussy — messy, desperate.

“Mommy, Mommy, ‘m gonna come,” Haru whimpers, squeezing his cocklet in his fist. 

Wumuti falters, her sloppy kisses over his hole slowing down. Her thoughts are heavy and scrambled, but her instinct urges her away.

When Wumuti sits up, she is not quite all there. 

Haru’s slick is all over her nose, her cheeks, her mouth and chin; it’s all she can smell and taste. The shape of his body among her sheets is more vivid than anything in the room, which has faded to a blur in the background. She can hear Haru’s gasping breaths as if they were right in her ear. 

The heat of his pussy teases over Wumuti’s clothed cock, and she rubs against it with a groan. Haru’s slick quickly seeps through the thin fabric of her pants, wetting her. She rolls her hips harder.

Haru bucks up against her, gasping. “Didn’t I do good? Can I have you now, please?” 

It’s hard to parse what he’s saying. Wumuti hears pleading, though, so she strokes his thigh with a coo. Ah, she really wants to see Haru present himself to her, but looking at him like this makes her feel so warm — his tense tummy, his stiff nipples poking through his little crop top, the baby fangs peeking out of his mouth.

Wumuti presses Haru’s thighs back against his chest. 

“Ah? Isn’t—isn’t this a bit too embarrassing…?” 

She coos again, and Haru is good, lets her fold him in half, helpless and spread open on his back. His cunt is so good, too, wet and warm and tasty. Wumuti lowers her pants just enough to free her cock, and it smacks hard against Haru’s pussy lips. Her knot is already swelling at the base. 

She grinds against his slick folds, breathing heavily. 

“Ah, hah,” Haru gasps, pupils dilating as he eyes Wumuti’s knot.

Wumuti preens. Since he likes it so much, he deserves to have it. He can have anything, her spoiled baby, her darling Haru.

She nudges the tip of her cock against his hole, pushing. Leaning over, Wumuti reaches for Haru’s arms, limp near his head, and entwines their fingers tightly. 

It’s so hard to hold back. Wumuti trembles as she works her length into Haru’s warmth, slowly, hips twitching with the urge to slam her cock all the way into his womb. Haru is soaking wet, gushing onto her, but he’s still so small, so tight. He’s making these whiny little cut-off noises as Wumuti fucks the thick head into him, shallow and quick, reaching deeper with every thrust. 

Haru is perfect inside, too. Of course he is. Wumuti doesn’t know why he seems so stunned, eyes stuck on the sight of her cock dipping in and out of his cunt, like he didn’t expect to be able to take her. Impossible. Haru was made for her. She smelled it on him when they met, long before he presented. He’s always been hers. 

Wumuti tries to tell him so, and it comes out in an incomprehensible mix of languages. 

“W-What?” Haru breathes, voice cracking when Wumuti thrusts into him hard enough that he slides up the sheets. 

His right eye drifts a little, and the sight makes Wumuti’s heart throb. She swoops in to kiss him, generously feeding the taste of Haru’s slick into his own mouth. Haru is delicious everywhere; Wumuti licks over his dimples, down his throat, over his collarbones. His armpit glistens with sweat and the fragrant oil from his scent glands, and Wumuti kisses it messily, all spit and tongue. 

Haru tightens around her, moaning low and raspy. His voice is so nice. Deep, boyish, charming. It’s almost a shame, how it drowns under the wet slap of Wumuti’s cock into his pussy, but she isn’t willing to slow down. Has to make up for the heat she missed, all the orgasms and knots she could’ve had inside Haru. The reminder of what Wumuti’s own stubbornness caused frustrates her, and she bites Haru’s armpit. 

“Ah!” Haru’s hips stutter, drawing Wumuti deeper in. “Mommy, it tickles…!”

That reaction makes Wumuti draw back, head tilted, calculating. Haru’s cute feet dangle next to her head, toes curling and uncurling. She licks the side of his sole, then sinks her teeth into his heel. Haru lets out a breathy giggle, his cunt clenching so tight that Wumuti bites her lip bloody. 

She tries to be gentle. She tries, but her hips keep pounding into Haru, teasing the bulbous girth of her knot against his hole. The hint of pressure around it makes her drool onto his chest, fuck him harder, until his ass and thighs are red and raw and his voice has broken into a long, continuous moan. There’s a velvety lining deep inside teasing the head of Wumuti’s cock, and it takes all of her not to force her way through. She wants to cum in there so, so bad. She knows it would feel amazing, but Haru is so thin, his flat belly bulging slightly when she fucks in, grinding into the spot that makes him thrash against the sheets. Can’t risk hurting him. That’s where their pups would be, if Wumuti had done her job as an alpha properly. 

She strokes the bump under Haru’s navel, licking her lips. Haru loves his short shirts, always eager to show off his tummy. They’d look even better with his belly round and full. Wumuti wants it. Wants to give him everything. 

“Love,” she whispers against Haru’s mouth. He’d asked for it, hadn’t he? To make love to him. There is no better way to show her love than this.

Wumuti pulls out all the way to the tip. Haru squirms while she adjusts herself, trying to keep her inside him, but he has nothing to worry about. The next moment, Wumuti grabs his ankles and slams her cock in. 

Haru arches off the bed with a cry. His cocklet spills onto his belly as his cunt gushes, clenching and fluttering wildly.  

Wumuti doesn’t stop. She’s nearly squatting over him, pounding his pussy even harder through the mess of cum and slick. An animal breeding her mate. Her knot is throbbing, ready, begging to be inside Haru. She grunts into his ear as she grinds it into him. 

Haru claws at her sides. “W-why—? You said, you said we couldn’t—”

“Shh, shh. It’s okay,” murmurs Wumuti, voice gruff. She can’t recall what she said, only that it doesn’t matter anymore. “Just take it. It’s all yours.” 

“‘S’big,” Haru whispers, but he hugs her neck and buries his face into her hair. 

Wumuti cradles his head tenderly. Her voice rises higher with every thrust, until it cracks desperately — and her knot, heavy and fat, pops into Haru with a tremendous squeeze. 

Haru’s whole body seizes up. His whimper is small, near silent. It makes Wumuti want to swallow him whole. 

She’s buried so deep inside him, there’s no room for anything else. Her cum pours out around her cock, hot, thick, and more keeps coming out with every twitch of her hips. 

It’s ridiculously good. It’s fucking amazing, the best Wumuti has ever felt. 

She wants it again already. Haru is shaking in her arms, though, utterly spent, so all she can do is shift her hips the slightest bit, just to feel him tighten around her knot. He smells impossibly good now, sweaty and plugged full with cock. She flips them over as carefully as she can, which still makes Haru wince as he collapses onto her chest. 

Wumuti croons at him. She begins licking at his hair, trying to fix the messy spikes behind his ear. Her chest thunders with a deeply satisfied purr. 

“Alpha,” Haru slurs. “Bite?” 

Instinctively, Wumuti opens her mouth wide. 

She hovers over Haru’s nape, fangs bared. 

No. No. 

Her head is still foggy, but there’s enough of a creeping awareness that she only nips it gently. 

“Soon,” Wumuti says hoarsely. “Talk tomorrow.”  

Haru kisses between her breasts, nodding. 

The room is starting to feel real again, and so is their predicament. Wumuti knows that if they do nothing about it, Haru will most certainly be carrying their pups soon. He’s only nineteen; too young, too thin. She knows this, yet her body revolts at the idea of doing the right thing. 

Tomorrow. She will be responsible tomorrow. There’s no way Hyun will let her get away with it, either, after what they’ve heard tonight. They will have to talk about Wumuti’s rut, too, because she wants Haru to at least have an opinion on it, even if the final say is hers. 

She wants nothing more than to spend it with him. She hopes Haru refuses, because if he says yes, she might ruin him. 

Wumuti wraps Haru in her arms and closes her eyes.