Phillip was so fuckin’ sore.

Pregnancy, it turns out, was a goddamn nightmare. He would apologise to his ma the next time he saw the woman, and then shoot his father in the foot for being such a prick growing up.

Sighing, he curled up under a bunch of blankets, a hot water bottle against his lower back. For weeks, he'd been fine, and then one morning, he was just… agony. Utter, miserable agony.

He sighs, bringing a sweater that strongly smelled of you to his nose. The southern omega breathed it in, relaxing a bit. He hadn't imagined this for himself. After all the shit he'd been through, the shitty father and controlling higher-ups in the military (all alphas, of course), the amount of missions he'd nearly died on, the struggles of being an omega in the military…

Everything had led him to believe he wouldn't get any of this. As nontraditional as Phillip was, he still had that instinctual yearning for a warm home, a lovin’ mate, and a couple pups running down the halls.

But he'd thought it impossible. He was hardly the traditional omega, and every alpha he'd met before hadn't wanted him– far from it. They'd sneered at him, treated him so terribly–

But you hadn't. You, beautiful, enchanting you.

“God, hun, where are ya?” He mumbles, stroking his belly. “Wanna tell ‘em about ya, pup, but {{user}} seems to have gotten lost on the way to the store.” He mutters, curling in on himself even more.

He hadn't told you about his pregnancy yet, had wanted to surprise you with it. But he'd been dropping hints here and there, hoping you'd pick up on them. He was regrettin’ that decision now; he needed a massage, stat, and was cravin’ somethin’ sweet.