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Taehyung is round everywhere; his cheeks, his belly, the balls of his feet. He can’t even lie on his back anymore and he’s due in less than a month. Jimin should be waiting on him hand and foot. If a relationship is a balance of give and take, this should be the moment for Jimin to give in abundance, reparations for making Taehyung this way: 37 weeks pregnant, barely able to move.
But Taehyung smells so sweet with their pup in him, like a bit of Jimin’s orange peels, cutting through his usual vanilla. Irresistible, like a dessert, the kind that’s not too sickly sweet you can have so many spoonfuls of—plump and juicy where it counts too. Fat pussy lips, dark swollen nipples, ass and love handles all filled out.
And Jimin wants , so much and so often, even when he shouldn’t. Taehyung is sore all the time lately and all he wants are foot rubs and cuddles. He'd been whining all day about his obstetrician’s bed rest order, doing everything in bed as Jimin turned into his hands and feet.
Jimin really shouldn’t. But he smooths a hand over the swell of Taehyung’s belly and tells him anyway.
“Want you.”
“Baby, I'm so big, I can't even move. I’m not allowed to move.”
“I'll do everything. I'll eat you out, make you feel good.” Jimin grinds against Taehyung’s ass, their clothes not doing much to hide his hard cock. “Please.”
“My back hurts,” Taehyung whines. “Besides, our baby can pop out any day now.”
“Please, just the tip.”
It's that bad. So bad, Jimin barely registers how awful that line is.
“God, you’re so…baby, I'm so sorry. Maybe tomorrow?”
“No, I’m sorry,” his cock aches, but Jimin tries not to sound pained. “I'm just gonna- gonna take care of it myself.”
He peels himself away from Taehyung and stuffs a couple of pillows under Taehyung’s back as his stand-in. “Sorry, babe. this won’t take long.”
“Where are you going?”
“The bathroom?”
“Don’t leave.”
“I'm sorry, but my dick hurts. I need to jerk off to- you know.”
“Do it here,” Taehyung whines, again. He adjusts his position, struggling with the large belly in his way, but manages to lie on the other side to face Jimin. “Jerk off here. I wanna watch.”
“But you said…”
“I'm heavily pregnant and sore, not a prude. C’mon.”
Taehyung pats the space next to him and Jimin follows, lies on his side, looks at his husband with unfocused eyes.
“Okay, I’m here.” Jimin shrugs off his sweatpants, takes his cock in his hand. He's painfully hard—the sight of Taehyung’s round belly and peaked nipples under his thin silk pajamas not helping his case. “Tell me what to do.”
“Get your cock wet,” Taehyung looks at Jimin the way he does a blank canvas before he paints. It sends shivers down Jimin’s spine, washing him over with thrill and shame.
He scrambles for the lube (nightstand, second drawer, at the far end because they barely use it), empties more than necessary on his cock in a haste, and starts stroking himself. “Like this?”
Taehyung’s gaze flickers from Jimin’s to his dick, delight apparent as it widens with every squelch of lube against skin. “Yeah. As wet as I’d be in heat.”
Jimin remembers what it was like the last time his mate was in heat. Taehyung was fever-hot, insatiable, honey sweet slick dripping from his cunt, begging to be knotted every other minute. Prep was almost never required—Taehyung would cry when Jimin fingered him. Not enough. Want your cock- please alpha- fuck me or I’ll die- so Jimin would oblige, with ease.
He gets it now. Fuck me or I’ll die makes sense.
“Nothing, no one-” Jimin whimpers— fucking embarrassing , he thinks, “is as wet as my Taehyungie in heat.”
“Even your knot slipped out.”
“Fuck, don’t remind me…”
“It defeats the purpose of a knot, but you still bred me anyway,” Taehyung draws closer, rakes a hand through Jimin’s hair, wipes away the sweat beading on his forehead. He takes his free hand to Jimin’s and leads it to his belly. “You did this.”
Jimin all but groans, mind hazy. Something snaps within him and the force wreaks havoc inside his ribcage. He did that. He fucked, knotted, and filled his omega with so much come that it had taken, growing a new life inside him that’s entirely and only theirs.
“Made me all big and ugly.”
“Not ugly,” Jimin shakes his head. “Pretty- can’t stop fucking you like this.”
Taehyung snorts. “Oh, I know that. You were insatiable.”
When they found out Taehyung was pregnant, Jimin was a few weeks away from his rut. Jimin had thought restraint would naturally come when his omega was pupped, but it only intensified his urges then.
“‘Cause you’re so pretty,” Jimin slows his hand, taking some time to really look at his omega. His hair is in soft, dark waves, his skin has a dewy glow to it, and his lips are plump and red like ripe cherries.
Taehyung had gotten even more beautiful pregnant, a different kind of irresistible than what he was like in heat. What people said about omegas’ pregnancy glow is true…and more.
(That, and his rut, lead to days of him bending Taehyung over every surface in their house, pumping him full of his seed over and over as if the one he did in Taehyung’s heat didn’t take.)
“I’ve always been pretty, no?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “That can’t be it.” There’s a playful lilt to his remark that Jimin knows won’t bode well for him if sex is completely off the table. “Tell me what you like about fucking pregnant me.”
“Tight,” Jimin’s knuckles white out around his cock--not good enough. His hand will never compare to his omega. “Your cunt gets all swollen, grips me so good.”
Vanilla thickens in the space between them. “Yeah? What else?”
“Soft.”
Taehyung pouts. “You mean fat.”
“It’s not a bad thing.”
“Why?”
“When I,” Jimin takes a lungful of sweet, cloying vanilla, while keeping his strokes steady and resolve intact. He knows what it means when Taehyung’s scent borders on being too sweet. It means Taehyung is- “Fuck you from behind, your ass went like- it jiggled like crazy, I can’t fit them in my hands. And the sounds we make…” The obscene slaps replay in his head and they alternate with Taehyung’s deep, breathy moans.
He can’t do this. “Baby, please.”
“Please what?”
He’s so mean. “I know you’re wet, just let me- please…”
“Just the tip?” Taehyung tips his head back, lets out a small laugh.
Normally, Jimin would whine about being teased, act all cute so he’d be spared. But he’s so desperate that the embarrassment works him up even more, rushing more blood to his cock, rendering him stupid. “Yes. Please, just the tip…”
“Just go faster,” impatience colors Taehyung’s inflection. “Tighter. Make your hand feel like me.”
Not possible. Jimin could squeeze his dick in his hand until it fell off and it still wouldn’t compare to Taehyung’s cunt. “Can’t, only you can.”
“Honey.”
Jimin fucks into his fist hard and fast, sharp thrusts the way Taehyung likes it. “Please, let me- I’ll fuck you so good, like this.”
It’s working. Taehyung’s vanilla spikes yet again, sweet and dizzying, and Jimin knows he must be drenched at this point--he can practically taste his omega’s slick on his tongue.
“You have to go slow,” Taehyung warns. He has a hand inside his pants and his pajama top is ridden up to the peak of his belly, exposing his taut, golden skin and a smattering of soft hair.
Beautiful. Jimin takes the offer while it still stands. “I can do slow, anything-”
“Come here, alpha.”
So Jimin does. He kisses Taehyung’s lips and feels every taut muscle on his body grow loose. Even his mouth is sweet, like it’s coated in nectar, and Jimin’s desperate for every drop.
He mouths along Taehyung’s jaw, down to his neck, over the scar of their mating bite. “Mine,” Jimin whispers.
“Yours. Always,” Taehyung moans. “C’mon, make me yours again.”—His easiest request to fulfill.
It takes a lot of patience and maneuvering to get Taehyung positioned by the edge of the bed, lying on his side, legs folded as far as his belly allows him to so Jimin has easy access to his cunt.
But the view is well worth it.
Slick drips from between Taehyung’s legs, vulva darker than the skin around it, as if they were made to draw Jimin’s attention. Taehyung has a hand gripping on his ass, pulling everything open, and Jimin couldn’t help but to eat up.
He starts with a long stripe up Taehyung’s wet folds, follows it up with kitten licks on his big, hard clit. ( Little cock, sometimes Taehyung likes to say.) Then, he laps up all the slick he can manage to with loud slurping noises, drawing hitched breaths from his omega. Sweet. Much sweeter than when he’s in heat.
Vanilla clings to his nostrils as Jimin commits his whole face to eating Taehyung out. The way he’s going now is as good as making out with Taehyung’s pussy lips, his own lips cradling the folds, nose dipping into the meaty flesh every so often. His tongue sneaks inside too, licking up slick straight from the source.
Filthy, just the way they both love it.
“Hungry?” Taehyung asks. He looks…serene. Blissed out but not too far gone. Cheeks and the tip of his nose tinted pink, eyes barely glassy, hands resting on his bump. Gorgeous.
“Starving.”
“Cute.”
“I’ll show you cute,” Jimin slips a finger into Taehyung’s slit, and he gives way easily. Taehyung responds with a satisfied ah, then more, please, more- when Jimin continues with a few pumps of his finger.
Cute. But Jimin doesn’t say, not risking his chance to ruin Taehyung’s mood by teasing him when he’s given clear instructions of what to do.
Give comes before take in the phrase, he reminds himself.
It doesn’t take long for Taehyung to become an absolute putty in Jimin’s hands ( fingers ). There’s three fingers in him now and Jimin’s name on his lips, each one more desperate than the last, pleas to be fucked dumb interspersed between them.
And Jimin isn’t some special alpha who’s immune to a pretty omega—the prettiest, the Kim Taehyung—crying for his knot. He’s aching between his legs and dying to sink his cock home.
So he does what he’d been begging for: put his tip in. Takes his fingers out, watches Taehyung sob at the loss, and quickly grants him relief.
“Jimin-ah,” Taehyung cries, head thrown back in shock and pleasure. “Big.”
“Tight,” is all Jimin can say. Taehyung grips him like a velvet vice, so tight he isn’t sure if he can move. He pushes in slow, as requested. “Relax, baby.”
“Give your omega a warning before you, fuck, babe-”
Jimin tests out a few slow, shallow thrusts. “Sorry. Is this good?”
“Go deeper.”
“Taehyung-ah. Your back?”
“Deeper.”
Okay. Jimin lodges himself deeper and they’re submerged in thick vanilla. Slick gushes out of Taehyung like overflowing honey, making the glide easier, and it takes all of Jimin to keep a slow and steady rhythm. But then,
“You don’t have to go so slow, Jimin-ah.”
“Doesn’t your back hurt?”
“It’s gone, now that you’re cock’s in me.”
“Taehyung-ah. The baby—”
“Just go faster, please.”
Jimin’s hesitant at first, but he lifts one of Taehyung’s legs up and fucks his pregnant omega in earnest, jostling his filled out ass and round, round belly. The sound of skin slapping and slick squelching fills the room, falling behind Taehyung’s ah- ah- ahs.
“Better?”
“So much better.”
“What if you—”
“Just fuck me dumb, Jimin-ah. Don’t think.”
It’s the last thing he wants to do, honestly. Even so, it’s difficult not to, considering how close they are to Taehyung’s due date. How big Taehyung’s belly is right now, right in front of him.
As if he could read Jimin’s mind (Jimin is convinced that he can), Taehyung reminds him: “This might be the last time we fuck before the baby comes out.”
It’s all Jimin needs to pick his pace back up. Taehyung yelps as he does so, hands twisting the sheets for purchase, tears threatening to spill out from his waterline.
Jimin adjusts his angle until everything he recounted earlier comes to life: the obscene noises of skin slapping, Taehyung’s deep, breathy moan-cries, the violent jiggle of Taehyung’s ass and love handles.
“Don’t stop,” Taehyung pleads. There are drying tear tracks on his cheek Jimin wants to wipe off. “So good- close-”
“Not gonna.”
“Make me yours, please.”
“Already mine.” We even have something that’s ours and ours only. “Always.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’ve got you, babe.”
The base of Jimin’s cock starts to swell. Vanilla engulfs them like a tidal wave and Taehyung clenches around him like he won’t make way, too tight to fit, set on milking Jimin dry.
But there’s so much slick— even your knot slips out —and Jimin unravels at the thought…no, the sight of his knot slipping in and out of Taehyung, drenched in slick and his own cum.
A mirror image to that is their scents blooming in the air; orange peels cutting through sweet vanilla.
Theirs, and theirs only. Equal parts of give and take.