Mob boss alpha Tony returning home coated with blood, his enemies defeated, and heading to his room to find his eight-month pregnant omega lying asleep in their bed, his face soft and peaceful.
He joins Peter on the mattress, presses both hands and his mouth against the prominent belly, and begins to sing an Italian nursery rhyme for his babies.
Tony and his alphas friends have a cruel game that they keep playing every day.
Getting all the omegas of their school wet.
They would remove their pheromone blocking patches when the adults are away, and they would drown their fertile prey who would pass by them in the hallways with their strong scent, following them, whistling at them, flirting with them, and so on until they could catch a glimpse of their soaked pants from behind.
Tony is suddenly much less amused by this game when his younger brother enters high school.
Mob Boss Tony sparing his rival’s spouse, Peter, because he discovers that the kid is pregnant. He can’t kill a pregnant omega. He can’t.
He’ll wait.
Though, he didn’t expect to fall in love with the chained brat hidden in his basement.
i need this so much.
Tony would not only fall in love with the brat chained in his basement, but also with the unborn child
And Peter would do anything do protect himself and the baby, including acting in love
So like… who’s writing this? Please i need to be tagged.
OMG, @longlivestarker, this is what I had considered writing if I ever had to make a whole story about it (I might just do it, this plot sounds so good).
In the beginning, Tony would lock Peter in the basement of the mansion he shares with the men and women of his gang with the firm intention of killing him as soon as he gave birth. The child would be given to a shelter, and no baby would be killed by his hands or his orders.
That was the original plan.
He made sure for many weeks and months to personally care for the omega in his basement. Bringing him food, water, clothes… He never hid his intentions from his captive. Peter knew what was waiting for him at the end of his pregnancy.
“Eat.” Tony would ask in the second week as the boy embarked on a hunger strike.
“I won’t let you keep me alive like a pig doomed to slaughter. I want to choose my death.”
“You’re going to kill this baby if you don’t eat.”
“Don’t you dare call me a criminal. You’re the one with the gun.”
With this, Peter spat in the alpha’s face. Tony waited for a moment, silently, then straightened up, wiping the saliva that soiled him before rolling up the sleeves on his forearms.
“I think it’’ll be just fine as long as I don’t hit the belly, right?”
.
Months later, long, long conversations later, as Tony walked down the steps with a lunch tray, he immediately smelled the distress pheromones. He didn’t miss the heavy beads of sweat on Peter’s forehead as he squirmed in the corner of the room, struggling to look normal, pain written all over his face.
“Pete, you…”
“I’m fine.” he huffed.
“Oh my god…”
“I’m fucking fine.” Peter exclaimed louder.
“You’re giving birth.”
Tony would feel his heart stop as tears would roll down Peter’s cheeks.
