One Pucked Up Pack (Pucked Up Omegaverse)

by Sarah Blue

Timing is a bitch. It’s kinda the entire story of my life.

I’m usually not much of a crier. Tears usually flow when I’m pissed, not when I’m sad.

What I need now are some more snacks, Gilmore Girls, and my heating pad. That will be enough to get me through these next ten days. And probably my arsenal of sex toys, because as much as I hate to admit it, seeing Harrison wanting to actually get to know Olive makes me not want to let any of these Alphas even get a whiff of my perfume. While I should make a promise to turn a new leaf, become someone who is more open and friendly, I decide to masturbate until I fall asleep. There’s nothing a good orgasm can’t fix.

“What do you want me to do, wait on her hand and foot and treat her like a princess?” Kinda, yeah, because that’s what I want to do.

“What kind of shield is this?” he asks, both of our frames are both exposed. “I made the shield,” Charlotte glares at him. “It’s perfect. Just a bit small.” He saves himself, knowing damn well if I made it he would have given me shit.

So I just stay in the bubble. Facing reality sounds terrible anyway.

It’s the first time I’ll be out with my scent matches in public, and I can’t help but want their approval. That’s a lie. I want more than their approval. Maybe adoration and complete devotion are the better terms for it. But I feel insane thinking it.

There are two teams, black and white. I have to squint and try to find mine—damn, possessive much? I spot Anders first, mostly because he’s by the goal. He gets down on the ice and does these stretches that look like he’s humping the ice. I nearly have to excuse myself. Why don’t they air this portion of hockey on TV? I swear the female fan base would go up astronomically. He’s covered in thick pads and stretches his legs so wide it has my jaw slacked. I know guys joke around about wanting girls to be flexible in the bedroom. I realize I’m no better than a man as I think very dirty thoughts about Anders’ flexibility.

“Tu la touches encore et je te casse les doigts, asshole.”

The feminist part of me is screaming fuck yeah, I don’t belong to anyone. The Omega part, however, is screeching that I belong to them and why in the fuck haven’t they claimed me as theirs?

I want to cry, but I hold it in. I’m sure as fuck not going to cry out in public. Crying is reserved for when I’m in the shower by myself and no one can see me.

“Hot tub?” Eli suggests. Yes, hot tub. I don’t have a bathing suit. Let’s all get naked!

Mikael mutters a string of curses but doesn’t tell me his plans. As long as it ends up with me on my back or knees, I’ll be a happy Omega.

He puts me gently on the bed and leans down on his knees. Is he going to go down on me? Because that would definitely be an approved action.

I took out her contacts for her a few nights ago. If that isn’t devotion, I don’t know what is.

I squeak as I’m thrown over a shoulder. Once I see his ass, I know it’s Anders.

“We’re a pack of four people. Surely we can’t all have normal parents.”

Feeling pissed off? Punch someone without my gloves on, so it hurts the both of us. Feeling sad? Drink a whiskey alone and think about what could have been. I think I’m handling things very maturely, and they can fuck right off.

I feel a little judged by my dog as he looks at me in confusion. “Yes, Hank. I’m leaving the house.”

I can still scent him on me. It’s thick and heavy, like I’m swimming in a hazelnut latte. I should wash it off, but I don’t. Instead I let Hank inside and sit by the fridge with a bag of shredded Monterey jack cheese, cookie dough, and a can of Pringles. I rotate between the three and hope that maybe salmonella will take me out before I have to actually process my feelings.

I don’t get a text back, so I do what any rational Alpha would do. I sit in my car outside of her house until I hear back.

Hank is a big Gordon Ramsey fan, and I hate to admit it, but I get it. What is it about fantasizing about the mean ones who are only nice to you? Yes, I have problems.

The last thing I want to do is leave Mikael behind, but as much as I hate to say it, Charlotte comes first.

Dayummm what happened to bors before scent matches

Hank has taken turns sitting on my lap with his massive body, drooling on me, licking my face, and I know he’s farted a few times for sure.

“What are you going to carve into yours?” I ask Eli. “A fox, obviously.” I roll my eyes. “Obviously.” “What about you?” “Mmm, not sure. I think I’ll need the pumpkin to speak to me first.”

I did wear a fairly attractive purple lace bra tonight.

But did it catch your attention

“She’s going into heat. She doesn’t know what she wants.” Charlotte’s head pops up and looks at Mikael, grabbing him by the throat and bringing his lips to hers. “Mark me,” she says next to his lips. “Okay, maybe she does know what she wants. But we should talk about it more,” Eli says.

“I’m not taking her contacts out this time.” “You sure as fuck are,” Eli says from the front seat, and I groan. The lengths we will go to for our Omega.

He doesn’t pour the water down her throat, however. He puts it in his own mouth and grabs her hair, tilting her head back, and she eagerly parts her lips as he transfers the water to her mouth. Charlotte shallows and hums. “You need more?” he asks, and she grabs his thigh with one hand and eagerly nods her head. This ritual happens a few more times, and I realize that Charlotte wants to be connected to us in any physical way possible, and the more unsanitary, the better.

Anders and Eli come downstairs to the kitchen. Both of their hands touching my hair and kissing their bond marks. No fucking care in the world that their packmate’s dick is knotted deep in me on our kitchen counter.

In the wake of tragedy is where beauty thrives.

The road to happiness isn’t always pretty, but damn if the destination isn’t beautiful.