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Woooo!! I finished a fic! I wrote down words again!! And I can share them even!!!!

Okay, I’ll admit, the latter half Needs some editing But! I don’t care because I am Very Excited to be posting again <3

It’s. Um. It’s mostly very Soft and Fluffy? Despite being about Jonah fucking his dad? Idk how that happened, but it did. So. Anyway, this has been sitting half-finished for aaaaages, but today I finally felt up to writing and I decided I wanted to finish it <3 it may or may not be posted to ao3, depending on how confident I’m feeling.

So. Quick warnings:

And that’s everything! I hope you enjoy <3

Jonah nuzzled into his father’s neck, sleepy and so very satisfied. The scent of their combined arousal was thick and heavy on his tongue, undercut with the soft, warm aroma of pregnant omega. He let himself purr with contentment, lazily rolling his hips in tiny circles, just enough to shift his knot where it was locked inside of Jon.

Jon’s breath stuttered for a moment, before he let out his own scratchy purrs. The hand resting on the small of Jonah’s sweat-slick back began to stroke up and down, slow and gentle. Safe and secure against his father’s breast, he felt so small, so comforted. It was a sort of vulnerability that he should’ve loathed. Would have, in anyone else’s arms. Even now, it was… disquieting.

Jonah reached a hand down, feeling for the slight swell of Jon’s stomach. Just a faint little bump for now, but soon Jonah knew Jon would grow round and full with his child. He allowed himself to give in to his instincts, head tilted up to rub his cheek against Jon’s scent glands, his purr a possessive rumble. This was his omega, his mate. Jon chuffed at him, indulgent and affectionate.

For all the quiet peace of the moment, curiosity was still building bright and indulgent within him. Had been nipping at him for days, really. An inheritance from Jon, and something his father often indulged. His voice was low and soft when he spoke, as if anything louder might shatter this fragile perfection. “What was it like? When you were pregnant with me?”

The hand his back stilled as Jon tensed beneath him. For a moment, Jonah wondered if that had been too far. Jon preferred to forget that it was his own son whom he was sleeping with. Rarely did he respond well to the reminder.

Then Jonah felt his father let out a sigh, relaxing beneath him and resuming his ministrations.

“It was… difficult. Especially in the beginning.” He said, soft and quiet. His comforting purr turned sharper, unhappy. “Terrible morning sickness. And I was exhausted all the time. Running myself ragged with finals and graduating and appointments and- well.” He trailed off, subvocals going silent. Jonah wished he wouldn’t quiet them like that. Wouldn’t try to hide himself from his son, his mate.

(One day, Jonah knew. He would see every soft, vulnerable part of Jon. Would know every corner of him so intimately that his father would never need to hide himself from Jonah, not ever again.)

Jonah let out a comforting chuff. Then, when Jon didn’t continue, “but it got easier? Later?”

Jon hummed, considering. “A little. Graduating helped. And the morning sickness got better. Although,” Jon’s scent bloomed with amusement, his voice tipping into something teasing and playful, “you gave me no end of trouble, once you were a little more grown.”

Jonah narrowed his eyes and nipped at his neck. Savored the breathy little gasp Jon made. “Excuse me?” He asked, voice dripping with mock irritation.

Jon trilled playfully. “You were very fussy,”

“I was not.” Jonah huffed.

“Oh yes.” And he knew Jon was grinning without even seeing it, could picture his expression perfectly. “Disagreed with almost everything I ate. And active too. You bruised my ribs with all your kicking, did you know that?”

“Lies,” he said, “lies and slander.” He nipped at Jon’s neck again, a little harder this time. Rolled his hips, Jon’s walls teasing his still-inflated knot. A smug, pleased growl rumbled in his throat when his father’s scent went warm and sweet with arousal.

“And,” Jon carried on, as if Jonah had said nothing, “you were constantly waking me up. Wiggling around and kicking in the early hours of the morning, not settling enough to let me sleep. Not to mention-”

Jonah didn’t even bother to respond to those accusations, just bit down on that soft, sensitive place beneath Jon’s ear. Jon moaned beneath him, cunt clenching teasingly on his knot. There was silence for a brief moment as Jon collected himself. When he spoke again, his voice was dry and arch and set fondness swelling in Jonah’s chest, so thick he could choke on it. “Oh? Is there something you want?”

Jonah considered for a moment, then nuzzled up against Jon’s neck. Kissed his way up the line of his jaw. “You,” he said, with an honest affection he could only muster in moments like these, safe and warm in his father’s arms, basking in the comforting solidity of his mate’s body under him.

Jon let out a helpless, joyful trill. “I- ah…”

Truly, Jonah never tired of hearing his father flustered and floundering, and few things were more satisfying than knowing he himself had caused it. He allowed himself to growl, possessive and loving. Ground down into Jon’s cunt until the air was once again heavy with the scent of their mingling desire.

“We- ah- we do need to make dinner soon, Jonah.” Jon gasped. But he was bending his neck, exposing all that soft, sensitive, well-marked skin to Jonah’s eyes and lips and tongue, and he could feel the little needy motions of his father’s hips as he tried to fuck himself on Jonah’s cock in shallow little thrusts.

“But not yet?” He teased, nibbling on Jon’s collarbone as he moved a hand down to pinch and press at his nipple, coaxing it into a stiff peak.

“I suppose-” he broke off into a moan as Jon sank his teeth into the place where shoulder and neck met, trembling at the hard press of Jonah’s teeth. “I suppose it can- can wait. For a little while.”

“Of course.” Jonah agreed, squeezing the soft handful of Jon’s breast. (Soon it would be full and heavy with milk to feed their child, and Jonah coulnd’t help but wonder what it would be like to nurse at his father’s chest again.) He could feel his knot deflating, just enough to let his thrusts go deeper, longer, hitting all those sensitive places inside of Jon.

It would be a miracle, really, if either of them managed to leave the bed at any point in the next hour.