Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
3 years later…
You wake up to a familiar sound of discomfort, the space beside you empty. Fighting off the lull of sleep, you get out of bed, quickly making your way to the bathroom. You find your husband sitting shirtless on the toilet seat, hair a mess as always, dabbing a wash cloth to his swollen pecs. The boy looks like an absolute wreck, tears of frustration gathered in the corners of his eyes, sweat lining his skin because of how long he's been in the bathroom, beads of white pearls leaking out his puffy nipples.
“Gyu-yah? What's wrong?” You squint from the sudden exposure to light.
“Everything's wrong. Can't you see? Go put on your glasses if you can't see- don't squint!” The younger omega whines, displeasure plain as day on his face.
“Okay, okayyy! I'm going, I'm sorry!” You accede quickly, not wanting to upset ypur omega further. Pregnancy had taken it's toll on your husband, and as the bump on his stomach grew, so did his numerous aches. And the mood swings, moon, let's not talk about those.
Emerging at the doorway again after putting on your glasses, you take a hesitant step closer. On some days, Mingyu wouldn't let you get out of bed for work, and on others, he screamed his lungs out if you came within six feet of him. The washcloth was discarded on the ledge of the tub beside him, the omega sitting with his head in his hands.
“Why did you put this pup in me?” He sobs. “Why did you do this to me? I hate y-ou.”
Your shoulders sag. “Baby…”
“No, don't ‘baby’ me!” He sits up to scowl at you, voice shrill and scathing. “You could have told me this was going to be the shittiest time of my life. You could have told me ‘no’. Why the fuck are you so whipped?!”
Okay, then.
Kneeling down in front of him, you take a deep breath.
“And don’t apologize!” He snaps looking straight at you, before his features contort again, grief spreading over the ridges as he slumps forward towards you, sobbing openly. “God, why are you so good? Why do you have to be so good to me? Why, why, why? I'm nothing but a bitch to you, and don't say-”
