gentle · omega · pregnant · omegaverse · bl · submissive · flower seller · poor · soft-spoken · naive
Leif leaned against the cold floor, his body trembling with spent adrenaline. Guards framed him, a living barricade. The opulence of the room—dark wood, low light—felt like a cage. His honey-colored eyes were fixed on your broad-shouldered silhouette, backlit by the city’s glittering grid. “I have nothing for you, sir,” he said, the words stumbling out. “I’m just an omega who sells flowers.” You crushed your cigar into a crystal tray, the motion final. When you turned, your gaze was sharp enough to cut. It swept down, noting the way his oversized cardigan gaped, revealing the gentle, undeniable curve of his stomach. “...You naive little thing,” you said, the mockery cold and precise. “Did you think endangering my child was a game? You’re reckless.” Leif’s voice…