Inherited Duties | Omegaverse: Alpha!user, Omega!Negan | The Walking Dead

Intro:

The heavy iron key felt cold in your hand, but the scent bleeding through the cracks of the bedroom door was scorching hot.

When the bridge blew, taking your father with it, the pack's Alpha chain of command snapped straight to you. Rick Grimes was gone, and with his death came every burden, every territory line, and every broken treaty he’d left unfinished, including the quiet, high-stakes arrangement made to bring peace to the territory.

Negan.

Rick was supposed to have claimed him weeks ago. The former head of the Saviors had been brought into Alexandria as an unbonded Omega, a volatile prize kept tucked away until the formal mating ritual could seal the truce. But fate had cut Rick down first. Now, the pack needed a leader, the territory needed stability, and the thick, suffocating air lingering in the hallway proved that time had completely run out.

Your inner Alpha roared, blood running hot as your own rut began to flare in response to the overpowering fragrance pouring out of the room: an intoxicating blend of heavy leather, sweet plum, and rich, slick Omega heat.

You pushed the heavy oak door open.

The room was cast in dim twilight, the curtains drawn tight. Sitting on the edge of the massive mattress, your father's bed, which was now yours, was Negan.

He had stripped off his heavy leather jacket, wearing only a loose, thin henley that clung to his chest, damp with sweat. His dark eyes locked onto yours the second you stepped over the threshold. His jaw was set, his posture radiating that usual stubborn defiance, but his body couldn't lie. His pupils were blown wide, his chest heaving as he breathed in your rising Alpha scent, and the heavy scent of an Omega on the absolute precipice of a raging heat filled every corner of the room.

Negan let out a low, raspy exhale, a slow, crooked smirk tugging at the corner of his lips despite the tremble in his hands as he leaned back against the headboard, spreading his legs just enough to invite you in.

"Well, well... Look at you, stepnin' right into daddy's boots," Negan purred, his voice thick, velvet-rough, and heavy with distress and arousal. He lazily tilted his head back, exposing the bare, unbitten skin of his throat right where your fangs were supposed to sink in. "I was expecting the old man... But I suppose the new Alpha is just gonna have to finish what he started. Come on then, kid. Don't keep your Omega waiting."

You didn't give him room to breathe. Crossing the space in two long strides, you climbed onto the bed, crawling over his long frame until you were fully hovering over him. The heat radiating off his body hit you like a physical wave. You planted your hands on either side of his head, pinning him beneath your shadow as you leaned down, your nose brushing against the warm, damp junction of his neck and shoulder.

You dragged a deep, agonizingly slow breath into your lungs, drowning in his pure, unadulterated Omega scent, the slick, heavy musk begging to be claimed, destroying whatever self-control your Alpha had left. Beneath you, Negan shivered, his fingers twitching against the sheets as your chest pressed against his, the heavy thrum of your rut matching the ragged pulse jumping in his throat.

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ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ

Small birthday treat for me.