#f/o fanfic

[pastelpousay]

‼️HEY HEY HEY‼️

!!BIG ANNOUNCEMENT!!

OKAY SO IK I SAID THIS YESTERDAY BUT I HAD RELEASED MY FIC TO THE PUBLIC AND I POSTED THE FIRST CHAPTER ALONG WITH THE PROLOGUE!! :D (here’s the link :3)

Here’s some art to bait you into reading this bs

I HIGHLY ENCOURAGE YOUT TO READ IT I PROMISE ITS GOOD!! I’m also contemplating on releasing it on Wattpad but yea…BUT DO KEEP AN EYE OUT

[reds-self-ships]

Everyone knows that what they really want for Christmas is a new self insert fanfic chapter

Which you can read above.

Remember: A self insert isn't just for Christmas, they're for life.

[cavillscurls]

wherever you stray, i’ll follow

alpha!joel miller x omega f!reader

Joel resents the choice to allow an unmated omega into Jackson—until he’s the only one who can help her feel at home.

warnings/tags: MDNI. Jackson era. Joel’s POV. Alternate universe: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics. Implied Soulmates. Alpha!Joel. Omega!Reader. SoftDom!Joel. Sub!Reader. Enemies-ish to lovers. Grumpy x Sunshine. Joel is emotionally constipated. Unspecified age gap. Stereotypical gender roles. Fluff. Angst. Self-flagellation. Poor coping & communication skills. Explicit smut. Dub-con elements due to the nature of heats, but everything is explicitly consented to. Size kink/size difference—Joel is huge in this, like 6’5, thick, broad, and burly. Reader has pubic hair. Pet names. Dirty talk. Scenting/scent marking. Man-handling. Fingering. Squirting. Drinking bodily fluids. Oral (f receiving). Multiple orgasms, somewhat uncontrolled. Unprotected PIV. Tummy buldge. Knotting. Breeding kink. Pregnancy implications. Adult Alpha!Ellie, Beta!Tommy, & Alpha!Maria make an appearance. Ambiguous-ish ending. wc: 10.7k

➻ a/n: this fic has been a long time coming & means so, so much to me. this won’t be for everyone, & that’s ok. i pictures game!joel for majority of this, but he is left to your imagination as always. thank you to @kiwisbell for beta reading and supporting me during the writing process. any feedback is so appreciated enjoy. x

playlist | fic inspo tag | read it on ao3 | art by @kiwisbell

Tommy Miller had always been the foolish brother, but even Joel found his particular lack of cautiousness that night out of the ordinary. 

There were three members. What was left of a pack, likely separated or raided. They had entered the walls of Jackson that fateful evening—the walls Joel and his brother happened to be manning—dirty and famished, overly emotional and outwardly grateful for the sanctuary. The first two, an elderly woman and a teenage boy, betas. He could tell just by the way they walked, the monotonous way they carried themselves, crossing the threshold of their haven with Maria at the helm of the herd. 

“The boy’ll be a good addition to routes, whenever he’s old enough,” Tommy had remarked. Ever the optimist, too keen on seeing the good in people to even acknowledge the risk that was posed every time another body came through those gates. 

And a risk it was. 

Joel Miller had experienced a fair share of fear in his life. Real, unadulterated fear, enough to bring a grown man to his knees despite his efforts to rise above it. A fear contrived by something entirely out of his control, forces working against the walls he’d built around himself, the rough exterior that fought, and bled, and killed, and protected. But the fear he felt that ghastly night remained unlike any other. It was entirely from within, something deeply embedded in himself. Fear, once harnessed as a means of survival, reduced to a shackle, left entirely at its disposal. It rose from his toes into his head where his ears rang and his face burned. 

Time stalled. His senses were numb to everything but this walking force of nature that, at first glance, was an indiscernible canvas of shivering limbs. But as it drew closer, the details were impossible to avoid. The shape of lips and sad eyes. The foreboding sound of a beating heart. Oxygen was no longer a necessity of survival, but vanilla and lilac and something so distinctly, uniquely sweet became the vice in his lungs. 

And it happened so fast, the way fear turned to panic and panic into anger—angry that he had no control or say over how the thing inside of him responded to the thing emerging before him. Powerless. He watched at a standstill as each body lining the wall stiffened upon your entrance. Even his brother, whose composure hardly faltered, could be heard inhaling a sharp breath of disbelief.

Omega. 

She isn’t stopping. Why isn’t she stopping? 

Joel’s eyes shot toward Maria, her indomitable gaze remaining forward on the parting doors. He had to fight the sudden urge to jump the gate over how seemingly unfazed she looked. His sister-in-law was a lot of things, but foolish wasn’t one of them. How could she be so foolish? 

A question left unspoken, unanswered, because his body was not his own. The sound of pounding rattled in his chest, blaring in his ears. A flame ignited. A switch flipped. The world as he knew it became mute to the battling voice that rang inside his head. 

Why isn’t she stopping? What is she doing here? It’s not real. There’s no more. There’s not supposed to be any more. It’s cold. It’s too cold, she’s not wearing a proper jacket. Where’s her jacket? She can’t be here. She’s not allowed to be here. How could she survive this long? Alone? She’s alone. No Alpha. Alone—

He vaguely recalled the sound of his brother shouting his name; a growl settled low in his chest and the heels of his hands pressed against his temples as he tore himself away from the perimeter and stormed through town. 

He needed to get away. Put as much distance between him and that thing that poked and prodded at what was to remain untouched. That stirred him, that set him quick to anger as those of his kind were notorious for. What he worked hard to not be. 

He wasn’t sure how long he paced. How many glasses of whiskey he downed, or the number of curses he threw at his walls, but later that evening, when he had subdued himself to some sort of composure, Joel sought after his brother and his wife, making it a point to address the issue head-on. He burst through their door without knocking: 

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?” 

“Joel—!” snapped the younger Miller, bouncing to his feet from the couch where he sat beside Maria, already engaged in conversation over what Joel could assume was the reckless decision at hand. 

“It’s fine, Tommy,” Maria interjected, extending a cautionary hand toward her husband. Her focused eyes took a once over of the fuming man in front of her. “Joel, I’m not turning away perfectly capable people. They pose no threat to us; we’ll find each of them a place here.” 

People. Them. Joel knew his sister-in-law wasn’t so naive as to think he was distressed over a couple of betas. The patronizing calm of her voice stirred him on, and he flashed his teeth at her when he spoke, low and gritty. A fight for dominance. 

“She’s an omega. Unmated.”

“And we’ll be sure to make accommodations for that.” Maria nodded slowly, carefully. She was all too familiar with the taming of beasts. 

Joel shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “There are twelve goddamn unmated alphas in these walls, Maria.” 

“Yeah, you included,” she clipped, and that shut him up good. “And with the way things are progressing, soon enough, Ellie.” 

That made him nauseous. 

Ever since her eighteenth birthday, she had been showing all the tell-tale signs of an emerging alpha. Joel knew—despite his unpreparedness and objections to the thing called nature—there was nothing he could do to stop it. The only other option was to prepare. And up until that point, Joel had thought his adopted daughter's presentation was the worst of his worries. 

He wasn’t prepared to reevaluate his own self-control. 

He hadn’t dealt with a rut since Boston; it was only the start of FEDRA’s reign, before the suppressants had been sufficiently pumped into the population, and fiery instinct was reduced to a dull nuisance. And while his access to the aid was now nonexistent, he still hadn’t considered it possible anymore before you showed up. Upon his and Ellie's arrival, the measly two other omegas in his vicinity had already inhabited Jackson. Both mated. 

Joel assumed the next time he encountered the type, it would be when one in the community presented. And by that point, he hoped he’d be far too old for the monster inside his head to have any more biological control. 

The solution had been to set you up in the cottage furthest from the center of town. It was a decent little space that had been used for storage until late, having cleared the fireplace last fall for ample central heating and restoring some of the rotten infrastructure. As deliriously naive as he saw it, the belief appeared to be that the distance of your dwelling from the rest of Jackson would prevent any complications if they arose. When they did. Joel couldn’t decipher what genius course of action his sister-in-law had for when the time came, but his protests were silenced by the majority. And by morning, you had claimed your corner of sanctuary. 

That was six months ago. 

And while the winds of winter kept the newcomers isolated with adjustment, the summer's heat brings livelihood—and much more of you. 

Your voice, your laughter, your scent. It permeates Jackson’s walls like a disease, saturating Joel’s life despite his efforts to avoid your very existence. 

You contribute your share at the daycare, of all places, often seen with a young pup clinging to your neck. Sometimes, the little ones chase after you in the center of town—running towards you with excited, grubby hands and beaming smiles. You always grace them with an embrace. It’s in your nature, the ability to comfort, to nurture. 

You’re gentle. Kind. Considerate. A smile brighter than a thousand stars. Perfection didn’t appear to have a name until the universe made you, and there is no denying the intrinsic effect you have on those around you. 

Because the rest of the town fucking adores you. 

There is no escaping you. As hard as he tries, you linger at every turn, in every breath of the wind that creeps down his back and stands the hair up on his skin. Most are in awe, admiring the creature that glides before them, whose presence adds to balance the very nature they all endure. A missing piece of a puzzle, something delightful and pure. 

Rare. 

Not diamonds, or rubies, or gold can compare. But in tandem comes those who feed on things that shine, and he knows that some—a very specific some—leer with less adoration and increased selfishness. Some who believe they are owed for the mark you bear, whose pride and lust drive their ambition, whose power is unmatched in the face of something so helpless. 

He’s aware, by the principle of semantics, that he falls into this greedy some. Though he could not identify further from it. And while the monster may heave and thrash within the dwindling confines of his chest, lured to all that is so rare, Joel had decided the moment you walked through those gates he would have none of it. He would not reduce himself to the thing he worked tirelessly to tame, nor would he entertain the force of nature that drove someone like you to something like him. 

You’re aware of his distaste for you. That much is obvious in how you blatantly evade him in town, skirting around when you are forced to share the vicinity, a terrified thing, so easily spooked. 

Once, a few months prior, he had been asked to repair some of the leaky ceiling panels in the schoolhouse. Unbeknownst to him—and you, he assumed, judging by the way your eyes nearly bulged out of your skull at the sight of him and how the honeyed stench of the room turned sour—they were all located in the daycare room. 

What followed could only be described as two hours of slow, burning torture. He tried his very best to stay on task, he really did. But he was hindered by the discernible discomfort you exhibited and all it did to the thing inside of him. You tripped over your words to the fellow attendants in the room, couldn’t seem to locate anything you were looking for, and at one point, had to excuse yourself for what turned into a twenty-minute-long disappearance. And where he stood, high up on the ladder, trying to balance his body and his mind, Joel hated how worried your absence made him. He couldn’t see you, couldn’t hear you, couldn’t smell you for those agonizing twenty minutes, and that anger he felt the first day he laid eyes on you returned. Because he was not a man that gave up control. 

And you, for whatever reason, wielded a great deal of it over him. 

The first day of summer promises a bonfire. Dusk, in the open plain beyond the stables, the laughter of children and the strum of music are bringing the community to life. These are cherished moments amongst the whole of Jackson, and Joel isn’t the kind of man to be so self-absorbed that he can’t understand why. He had, up until six months ago, once enjoyed the camaraderie. It was the first time in decades he felt a semblance of impulse to let go. No more running, fighting, grieving. 

He can hardly remember that feeling now. In its place returns caution, unpredictability. Six months and the work of years lost. He feels insane—the lurking monster that haunts his own shadow. And as hard as he tries to shake it, he fails every time. The feeling is embedded, brought to life by its complimentary fragment that, much to his dismay, walks the very same walls. Lurks in the same shadows. 

He used to feel stable, steady. Not any longer. 

Your hair is tied half up today, out of your eyes—he’s watching you. Not watching, observing. This is the trade-off, the compromise to keep the beast satiated. Always from afar, and never with the intent of action, he observes you and all you are. It’s a part of his routine, studying the way you move, the way you exist in this space you’re both forced to inhabit. Constantly drawn to one another, even in distance, even without trying. Magnetic. 

Frustrating. 

You’re smiling at something. And then laughter, like the sweetest song rattles his eardrums. You sit on a blanket across the mountainous flames, your legs tucked under you, beside two other girls he couldn’t care to remember the names of. Briefly, he wonders what it is that you find so amusing. 

A misfortune at the hand of another? 

No, he cannot imagine you to be so cruel. 

An anecdote from the daycare? 

Seems far more likely. The type to find joy in what you do, in all that is around you. 

He’s envious of this, maybe. The effortless way of being attracted to what is deemed good. He tries to remember a time when he knew another person like that; all that ever follows are brief memories full of sorrow. The hazy outline of something, someone, so perfect in a way no one should be. He always dismisses the thought. He would never know what it means to be that way, after all. 

“Nice night.” 

He damn near jumps out of his boots. Tommy’s sudden materialization beside him diminishes any spirals of imagination, a blessing in disguise. 

Still, Joel is bothered by the disturbance. His little haven of borderline-stalker tendencies crushed under his brother's obnoxious foot. He merely grunts in response. 

“Glad we finally got this event together,” Tommy continues nonetheless, a hand on his hip, sipping his beer bottle and glancing similarly across the flames. Joel’s eyes have already left you, his arms folding taut across his chest while he casts his gaze anywhere else, if only for the sake of avoiding his brother's inevitable chastising. “Good to get the kids out… good to get everyone out, really. Nice chance to mingle.” 

Subtle. Real subtle. 

“Out with it, Tommy.” He doesn’t feel like playing this game tonight. He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the sake of appeasing his brother, or rather, his brother's wife. “Whatever it is you wanna say to me… out with it.” 

Tommy shrugs. “Nothin’ to come out with, Joel. Just that y’all have been here two years already and still seems like you have a tough time with these things.” 

He doesn’t miss the chosen emphasis. And it’s true, to an extent. While precarious in her initial adjustment, Ellie has been far more social than he. He talks to people. He just doesn’t trust them. Not those outside his immediate circle. And why should he? Joel does his work. He lends a hand to the community where he can. He’s polite. Punctual. Reliable. But he’s still living in the end of the fucking world, a world he has seen more brutality and injustice in than he ever would have cared to. So what if he doesn’t want to roast marshmallows and sing campfire songs? 

“What is it that you want from me, Tommy? I’m here, ain’t I?” 

“Don’t want nothin’ from you, brother,” Tommy says with a shake of his head, and Joel still can’t pinpoint just when his little brother finally grew the fuck up. Twenty years of lost time will do that to a person. “Just wanna be sure you’re livin’ this second chance to the fullest.”     

A second chance. 

He can pinpoint a time where he would have killed for one of those. 

And perhaps he did just that, and the real fault lies in being unable to embrace the outcome. Or maybe, the misery he lives in is the price he pays for the choices that led him here. Second chance shrouded in self-loathing. 

His brother persists: “Take advantage of how lucky ya are to be here, how lucky we all are to be here, to have…options.”  

Has he ever been good at weighing those? Twenty years ago, he would have had a different answer. Twenty years ago, he wouldn’t have known the debilitating options of life or death. This isn’t the first time Tommy has presented the topic of conversation, and he’s certain it won’t be the last. He wonders when he’ll find a response that appeases him, if ever. 

“Just try to enjoy yourself a little tonight, alright?” 

He doesn’t answer. He lacks the discipline to say something of substance. Instead, he turns his head forward and strains his arms against his chest, silent and brooding, until his brother sighs, pats him on the shoulder, and slips away. 

This is enjoyable enough; left to his own devices, keen to observe the joy around him, a silent hope that some of it may permeate, keep an eye on—

He’d been too preoccupied with Tommy’s noise to notice you’d disappeared from his line of sight. His brows furrow and he scans the perimeter of the bonfire. Your friends have moved to the beverage stand, but the spot you had occupied beside them is vacant. 

He cocks his head left, then right, scanning for signs; the cadence of your voice, the shape of you, your scent. And he’s frustrated. Because how could he let you vanish so fast? Where? Why? 

It’s something instinctive that compels him to act at the first sign of trouble. It’s the faintest thing, a subtle waft in the wind he’s certain no one would catch unless they were searching for it. Sour and burnt, his nose wrinkles. 

He does a one-eighty and panic seizes his chest.

Your silhouette may be foreign to the common eye, but he’s learned it well. It tramples and scrambles through the foliage, distressed; a good two, three hundred yards away from the crowd and headed in the direction of your dwelling. 

He’s honed in. A nerve fires inside his chest. His heart ticks to a beat that suffocates his eardrums, and there’s a churning in his gut that threatens to yank him forward. 

He turns back toward the flames, only once, before his footsteps fall in stride with you. 

He wonders just how long he’s been blind. How many days had passed since the tell-tale signs began to emerge. When you knew, if you knew, or if this very moment, here and now, is the one mother nature decided to take you by the hand and guide you down the imminent path. 

Joel always watches you. Observes. How could he have let this slip under his radar? 

He’s imagined this exact scenario numerous times before. Though in his head, havoc rained, blood was shed, and carnage laid bare across the whole of town. A wreckage for all to witness, to acknowledge the barbarous creatures that walk amongst them. Twelve starved, selfish alphas seeking a single, undeserved prize. 

In theory, his expectations aren’t all that far-fetched. In a time before, they may have been a reality. When there was no order. When creatures with perceived power could take and take, and others would be remiss to challenge them. 

But here, in the haven he occupies, those expectations are mere theatrics. 

Here, the air is frighteningly quiet, save for the joyous voices in the distance, the whistle of the breeze. He’s aware of the sound of his boots crunching against the ground, how the weight of them seems to melt into the earth with each daunting step. They follow after lighter, fluttering tip-toes; a scared, scampering thing on the run from all that could harm her. Alone.

Vulnerable. 

The closer he follows, the clearer your labored huffs reach his ears. The aroma in the air loses its earthy notes and adopts the sweetness you shed. A trail of seeds yet to sprout, bathed in moonlight, beckoning him closer. A single lantern is left lit on the cottage steps, a beacon. You clamber up them two at a time, and in tandem, his careless foot snaps a twig beneath his boot. 

Your head whips around, sharp eyes pinning daggers to his chest.

“I ain’t here to hurt you.” 

He puts his hands up in careful defense, leaving the vast space of the porch steps between you. Your chest is heaving and your temples are already damp. Your eyes have glossed over, a crazed look, and he knows the fever has taken the reins. 

But there is no urge to pounce. No incessant need to satisfy a selfish craving. It’s there, it lives, but it does not drive him the way he always suspected it would. It’s evicted from the home of fears that feed on his consciousness, and in its place, emerges something just as innate. As plain and clear as all other parts of him he once tried to diminish. 

“What do you need?” he asks softly, carefully. Unprotected prey are easily spooked. 

Your eyes dart every which way, searching for the complimentary predators. They glisten with tears under the porch lights, sweat reflecting off your forehead the more you lose yourself, and he knows that you’re afraid. He can feel it. 

“Omega,” Joel commands, and your wide eyes snap right back to him. Drawn to him and all that he is. If his instincts weren’t so hellbent on curbing your fears, he would’ve scolded himself for abusing such a power. “What do you need?” he repeats, a bit more pointedly. 

He watches the way your throat constricts when you swallow, brows twitching together in study of him. Searching for some ulterior motive, no doubt, but the trepidation is brief. Your nostrils flare in deep inhalation, and he wonders what remedy he must exude to ease you so effortlessly. 

You trust him. 

A terrifyingly naive mistake. 

And yet, there is no denying the way his chest swells with pride and how the monster inside of him roars to life. 

“Keep the rest of them away,” you say finally, and it’s all he needs to hear. The rest is second nature. 

He nods dutifully, lingering at the bottom of the steps. He waits until you blink the haze out of your darkening eyes, giving him a final once over, and scramble the door open and shut, before he climbs to the top of the steps. He turns his back to the door, his arms crossed over his chest like they had been while he watched you through the fire, his eyes forward—focused. An unmatched mode of protection activates. He hears the deadbolt lock, and he’s grateful for your diligence. Though he knows it’s useless. Every alpha in a ten-mile radius would smell you within minutes. 

And that smell. 

It’s only now that he notices its potency. It grows and swells the longer you’re hidden inside; waves of vanilla and citrus that are almost too sweet. They burn his nose. Coat the back of his throat in thick tar, making it impossible for him to swallow without a taste of you. 

The beast grows, a second skin now. It occupies him further as each moment passes by. His fingers twitch, his own brow dampens, and an unrelenting ache settles low in his stomach. 

He gruffs out a breath, shaking his head rapidly. He needs to keep it together. He needs to move. 

He’s stalking the perimeter in a craze, eyes and ears on high alert. He leaves his mark behind wherever he can, brushing up against trees, allowing the dense pheromones that seep out of his skin to pollute the air. It isn’t foolproof, but it’s enough to dampen the sweet nectar radiating off your walls, at least for a time. 

He starts to panic when he finally hears the first little moan slip through the walls. A soft, restless thing, and the ache in his gut flourishes, threatening to send him to his knees. He seeks purchase on the rail of the porch, having made his way back to the door. He squeezes his eyes shut. This cannot be happening. 

Clarity becomes overshadowed by instinct, and the ache expands into his chest, his fingertips, his toes. It’s been years, and the onset is no less overwhelming. He’ll do what he can to prolong it, ensure that he is of his right mind when the height of the fever takes you. He can’t imagine what he’ll do, otherwise. 

But his patience is tested. The soft scratch beyond the front door makes sure of it. 

His ears perk up and his nostrils flare. He can make out a faint creak, weight shifting. Palms to the panes, a body pressing against the wood. Warmth seeps through the cracks. 

“Joel?” 

There you are. 

His body carries him up the steps–he doesn’t have to think about moving. His muscles and joints, his very soul seem to be linked to your command. He stands with his toes pressed to the bottom of the door, and it’s getting harder to breathe. Harder to discern what’s right in front of him. He squeezes his eyes shut. 

“I’m here.” 

Your breath wavers, a sigh of relief. He zeros in on what he can make of you through the barrier, the last shred of sanity. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally croak, and his eyes shoot open, brows laced in confusion. 

“You have nothin’ to be apologizing for–”

“No, I do,” you press, and the words come with great difficulty. Heavy and strained, as if it is critical you say them now. 

Perhaps it is. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows it’s only a matter of time before you’re not entirely yourself. Before he won't be able to get a coherent answer out of you, when every action you take relies solely on relief. 

He’ll take the opportunity to listen to what you have to say while you still can. You seem to realize it too as your words start to pour out, staggered and rushed:

“I know I’ve done something… something to upset you for all this time, and—and I’m sorry. Whatever it is, I’m sorry, and I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it, Joel. I promise. Just please—”

“Stop that.” 

He can't even begin to believe what he’s hearing. Can’t possibly fathom the damage he’s caused, all he’s insinuated with his behavior, his choices. 

Him. He is to blame. 

Yet, you’re the one near tears. You’re the one who begs for forgiveness, where no plea nor apologies need be. You’ve convinced yourself, or rather, he’s indoctrinated you into believing you are the one to blame. 

That you are the monster. 

And oh, does it make his blood boil with well-acquainted self-loathing. 

“You don’t—you haven’t—”

Now he’s the one sputtering. Where does one find the words to right infinite wrongs? 

You’ve reached an impasse, and this is surely the desperation speaking. He’ll have to be the level headed one, steer you in the right direction. A chance to redeem himself, as great a feat it’s proving to be. He musters up the courage, sets his pride aside. 

“You ain’t done nothin’ wrong, you hear me?” His lips are near pressed against the wood, seething through them, desperate for you to latch on to each painful word. “You needa know that, all right? You… you ain’t the one to blame here.” 

The admission is ash on his tongue. Speaking it aloud, bringing it to life. His ears strain for any sign of you, fallen silent. Something inside possesses the urge to break clean through the wood. 

“Help me.” 

Forgiveness. Guilt welded to his chest now shattered and set free by the capabilities of kindness. You hardly know one another, and yet, there is mutual understanding. An agreement that surpasses time, bonded to what you’re made of. 

“Alpha,” you call, and Joel has to brace himself against the frame to keep from falling. His chest beams, his belly stirs, and the sting of desire plagues him. “Please.” 

He had read about the process once, long before. Disorientation. Excruciating aches that make it nearly impossible to stand upright. A tingling sensation so intense, that it replicates that of burning on the skin. 

Pain. 

You’re in pain, and he knows he can stop it. 

And soon enough knowing turns to needing, and he can feel a fraction of the pain you’re enduring. It’s enough to shatter his resolve. 

A heavy hand rests on the doorknob. A beat. And then, as if on cue, he hears the deafening sound of the deadbolt unlatching. 

He hesitates, opportunity served on a golden platter. Sifts through the repercussions of what could follow. But when the door opens and shuts again, he’s on the other side of it. The lock latches, this time, under his own hand. 

You’ve shuffled your way back from the door. Standing, though by the looks of it, with great difficulty. You’re no longer in your pretty summer dress, but a t-shirt large enough to swallow you and little shorts so short he can smell right through them. 

Even from a distance, his height climbs above you in the way only predators leverage prey. But he knows you’re unafraid. He can sense your fascination with him just by observing you; it’s as plain as the air he breathes, something intrinsic and right as hard as he’s worked to deem it wrong. It’s in the way that you stiffen, your body having no other choice than to respond to him. Wide eyes appraise every inch of him, and you trouble your bottom lip with your teeth in a spot he would very well like to taste. 

The aroma is suffocating; it seeps into his pores and wraps its eager hands around his throat. He won’t be able to rid himself of you for days, even if he tries. 

He’s grown pompous, it seems. For the thought of those he passes enduring a whiff of you on his skin stirs his cock in his jeans. The idea that awakens him, the prospect of becoming his. 

“I’m scared,” you hiccup, and he suddenly remembers he has greater things to tend to. 

He has a million questions, torn between action and rationale. 

When was the last time this happened? Do you have enough supplies prepared? How long is it expected to last? 

But none of that matters right now. She matters. And she needs you. 

“I know, baby.” He’s terrified, and the words spill out. “But you’re gonna get through it, ya hear me?” He takes another step closer. “We’re gonna get through it.” 

And there is a glimmer in your eyes, that of hope, and he knows that he is powerless in this battle he’s fought against himself for so long. He’s only prolonging the inevitable. 

“You’ll help me?” It's all pleas and hope and teetering near the symphony of begging, but he can’t hear you beg. He can’t bear the sound nor the implication, as he’s certain it will ruin him. But: “Please,” you whimper, plucking his kryptonite out of thin air and wielding it against him. And it’s only then that he notices the way your thighs tremble together, desperately searching for some sort of friction. “It hurts.” 

And he loses, loses the fight. He is lost to you. He always has been. 

“Turn around,” he beckons, and you obey him because you’re good. You’ll be so good for him. 

Because you know exactly what she needs. 

The floorboards creek beneath his feet, and when he reaches you, fingers drag the bulk of your hair over one shoulder. He watches the muscles flex below his touch, the way your hands ball into tight fists at your sides. He’s hit with the overwhelming scent of your exposed gland, and his mouth waters. 

Focus, the thing inside him chastises. You’ll have plenty of time to taste. 

He takes a final step, flushing the front of his chest with your backside. Greedy hands latch on to your waist, followed by the slump of your body into him. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, and your lips part in a sigh—a pretty little sound, though he’s determined to alleviate the burden it stems from.

He reaches for one of your fists, taking you by the wrist. Your fingers unfurl upon his touch, and he uses it as an opportunity to fold his own overtop your knuckles. He guides your joint hands, settling them low over your belly. 

“Show me,” he murmurs, dipping his head to the crook of your neck. His lips dance over the skin, and your legs begin to tremble. He keeps the hand at your hip firm, an anchor. “Show me where it hurts.” 

Your breath catches and your eyelids flutter, half-open. Your fingers squeeze around his, and without hesitation, he squeezes back. He’s here. He’s got you. He won't let you go. 

And with that reassurance, hands descend, following your lead. You claw away the t-shirt hem, idling above the waistband of your shorts before sinking underneath. A low growl rumbles in his chest at his findings, muffled into your hair. You comb his fingers through soft curls, the flesh below hot and throbbing. Together, you cup the little seam of your cunt, and Joel has to fight the urge to fall to his knees, pry you open here and now. 

You’re dripping. Warm slick pools in his hand, sticky against your thighs. He feels a pulse of it spill out of you when his fingertips prod at your hole, your back arching off his chest, another devastating gasp of air choking you. 

He’s already dizzy, high on the fumes of you. He shuts his eyes when his vision begins to blur. And he’s hard. So achingly stiff against your back, if he thinks about it for too long, he's sure to lose control. You’ll send him into a full blown rut, he’s certain of it. Likely, you already have, teetering at the edge. And as these minutes tick, the less time he has to prepare you. To warm you up and slather you in pleasure before brute nature runs its course. 

“Joel,” you whine. His eyes flash back open, pupils doubled in size.

“Bedroom. Now.” 

He releases you, but only after giving a handful of your ass a terse squeeze. You squeal, nearly leaping out of his touch. You flash him your eyes only once before tiptoeing forward, and he’s hot on your heels, stalking after you. Patience drowned deep, mangled by desire. 

Your room is to be expected, cozy and warm, entirely you. Under any other circumstance, he’d have more appreciation for the homemade candles and delicate tapestries, the various posters displaying your interests and the native plants you’ve taken the care to pot and house. 

But he’s immediately drawn to your mattress, the piles of pillows and blankets strewn about in a fashion only you are to understand. You’ve been busy since you left him on the porch. 

You stop a few feet shy of the bed, glancing over your shoulder at him, uncertain. There’s a shift in your aura, suddenly grown timid. There’s a guilty sort of gleam in your eyes, but he recognizes it for what it really is—shame. That you cannot control your erratic breathing, or the heat that creeps over your brow. That your body faces the impulse of preparation for something beyond your control, and now, you’re forced to lay it bare for him to witness. 

He holds no judgment, only empathy. There is beauty in this vulnerability, and for the first time, he understands the gravity of your trust in him. Something in the shape of fulfillment blooms. 

“Here?” he asks, nudging his chin toward the heap. 

You nod once, and he shrugs the flannel off his shoulders. An offering, and you accept it wordlessly, eagerly. You eye it in your hands, then him, back again, hesitant. You’re shy now that he’s indulged you.  

That’s alright. She just needs you to take your time with her. 

Finally, you slowly bring the wad of it up to your nose and inhale. Your eyes droop shut, lashes kissing the apples of your cheeks, and his chest beams with pride at the notable fall of your shoulders. Tension evades you, replaced with the comfort of his scent. His. 

“Go on,” he instructs gently, once he has your eyes again. He wishes he could peer inside your head, decipher the wary thoughts that live so plainly on your face. 

Nonetheless, you shuffle your way to the mattress, carefully crawling on top of it. It’s painfully adorable, the way you gnaw at your bottom lip and analyze the space, his flannel still clutched in your fist. 

He also recalls reading about this, how it’s imperative that your space be designed to your exact liking. The assistance of a trusted alpha’s scent is a surefire way to heighten comfort. 

So when you drape his flannel over the pillow you lay your head upon at night, and tuck it in tight around the edges, he’s overcome with a mighty wave of emotion. He is strengthened, his affliction no longer a weakness, but a gift. A means of sustaining your well-being. He almost feels unworthy. Almost. But when you sit up on your knees at the edge and give him those expectant eyes, he imagines what it would be like to rid the town of the eleven other hungry beasts who could have ended up outside your door. So that they may never get a breath of you. 

That they may never touch what’s his. 

He approaches with caution���slowly, toeing off his boots in the process, fighting every urge to pounce. Droplets begin to roll down your temples, and he thinks you’re the most beautiful like this; wild eyes, a little frenzied. Awaiting some treat like a starved puppy who's already forgotten how to chew, how to swallow. He will remedy this. He’ll feed you, satiate you. 

You’re an antsy little thing now, nearly bouncing up and down, toes curling and uncurling beneath you. And as soon as his shins meet the bed frame, you’re rising on your knees, nearly his height now. You study one another and the heat between you, the uneven breath and the palpable compulsion to touch. His brows rise on his forehead, surprise, when you reach out first. Shaky, dainty hands coming to rest upon his shoulders that glow under your willing gesture. 

He can’t help himself; his hands splay over your ribcage, curving around your lungs, and yanking your chest against his. You yelp out, but the tiny grin that follows on your lips and the way you wind your arms around his neck flash a million green lights. He can hardly keep up, and he realizes now he’s the one panting; his fingers bruise into your skin, and his tongue seems to swell three sizes with need, starvation.  

And he hesitates, because if he proceeds, he’ll finally know the sensation of kissing you. He’ll have a taste of you. He’ll understand what it means to have your body pressed against his, and how the scent of him will change, saturated by pieces of you. 

But it’s you and your willingness to be so kind, so undeniably what you are, that breaks him from the mold he’s cast. You scratch him gently just below his ear to get his attention, and his worried eyes find yours—a pure contradiction, only certainty and peace to be found. 

It’s alright. She’s ready for you. 

This voice is different, warped. A mixture of two. He’s not sure if he hears it from him, or you. 

He doesn’t care. 

His lean into the kiss is measured, but it’s not long before it descends into madness. You’re wound and fiery against him, clawing at the nape of his neck, baring tongue and teeth. He’s willing, eager to keep up, bending you at the small of the back and crowding over you. Licking you open and shoving his tongue between your lips, until the sharp sounds of saliva echo through the room and his palate is coated in sweetness. 

He loses himself a bit, winding a hand up your back until it’s latching around tendrils of hair and pulling taut. You gasp, arching into him, and he growls at the opportunity of more of you, to taste all of you. 

His lips clamber down your throat, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. You’re mumbling something, indescribable under the mask of your flourishing heat, but the pliancy of your body is all he needs to make way for instinct. 

When he reaches the base, the tip of his nose traces your clavicle, sniffing like a mad dog. He continues up the curve of your neck until he finds the rough little patch behind your ear. Here, he inhales deep, audibly; your scent is most potent here and it clouds his judgment. His tongue juts out from his lips, salivating, searing across the gland and sealing his invasion with a gentle kiss, and oh, you like that. He hears the strangled sound that rips through your throat, feels your sharp nails dig deeper into his skin and the weight of your body shuddering against him. 

He yanks at the hem of your t-shirt. “Arms up.” 

You heed his command, and he pulls the fabric over you, tossing it into oblivion. 

He’s got you on your back, sprawled amongst the nest of your things and his, in no time. He sinks to his knees, huffing at the stiffness of them. He bullies himself between your shaking thighs and drags his paws across your torso. He cups both of your tits in an unforgiving grasp, heaving himself forward and suctioning his lips around one. You howl and pant, pain and pleasure, weaving fingers through his locks of hair and tugging just as hard as he sucks. He switches to the other, leaving welts behind, memories of his ardor. 

He wants them to linger. Knowing that he can’t mark you—won’t, not while you’re like this—in the way he longs to. A greedy act of ownership he hopes will ward off the others until he can map out this newfound territory. 

Your thighs suffocate his hips, radiating warmth. He feels the little gyrations of your hips, seeking friction, and he can’t find it in himself to deny you any longer. He licks a trail down your sternum, the tangy taste of fever, peppering kisses over your belly. His fingers curl over the waistband of your shorts, taking two fistfuls, and he rips them in two. Joel doesn’t think you’ve even noticed the destruction, already pawing needy hands across his shoulders to guide him where you need him most. 

Your legs part instantly, willingly, and his mouth drops open at the sight. He’s suddenly reminded of his own struggle, his cock seeming to swell another size in his jeans at the sight of your bare, swollen cunt. Creamy liquid coats your wet skin, pearly clit swollen and wanting. He rests a cheek upon your inner thigh, latches his hands around the outer to keep you steady, and admires. Lets his eyes fall shut and leans in, burying his nose in the soft curls on your mound. He inhales long and groans; the earthy musk, the inviting sweetness. 

“God, look at this pretty fuckin’ hole.” He starts blathering aloud, but you smolder under his praise. Bucking your hips and grabbing at all the bits of him you can find. “This all for me, Omega?” 

Yes, yes, yes, you pant, speaking with your body and your mouth, nodding so frantically. He enjoys the way your cunt flutters around nothing, each little pulse oozing another drop of sweet slick, coaxing him in. 

He wets his lips, takes another whiff of you. He’s certain he’ll lose his mind if he doesn’t taste you, so he does. Flattens his tongue against your impatient pussy, and watches as you all but combust when he suckles up the nectar seeping out, all for him. 

It’s more heavenly, more euphoric than he could’ve imagined. The stain of you against his tongue, ambrosia, a remedy for all ailments. He laps into you, dehydrated and desperate for every drop, smearing his tongue all over your cunt, your mound, your thighs. A feast for the taking. 

You wail above him when his lips latch onto your clit, and heavy hands force your thighs back against the mattress—he needs you spread, and still. Needs you to understand the severity of this famine he’s experienced for so long; maybe, as long as he’s existed. You yank at his hair and your heels dig into his back, pushing and pulling all at once, and when he finally comes up for air, he’s feeding you his fingers. Catches your eyes and the way they grow when he sinks two, thick digits inside of you, groaning at the squeeze of your plush walls, ripe and ready for him. 

“Gonna open you up for me, darlin’,” he rasps, lips and cheeks and chin gleaming with you. You hastily prop yourself up on your elbows, getting a view of the way he learns you. Moonlight glows across sheen skin, angelic. 

“B-but Joel—” you whine, but he silences you with a thrust of his fingers, curving them up, up, up, and beaming when your legs jerk and your eyes roll back. He taps his fingertips against the spongy little spot he’s discovered.

“Hush, now,” he bites, but his taunting fingers promise a better outcome than his tone. Your head has already fallen back into the pillows, hands mindlessly grabbing and twisting the sheets around you. “M’gonna open you up, get you nice and ready to take me.” He starts his steady pace then, gradually pulling his fingers back and rocking them forward, maintaining the hook, searching for the sweet little spot that makes you cry out every time he bumps it. “You’re gonna be patient, let me make it all better, yeah?” 

“Yes, Alpha. Yes, yes.” 

He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy this descent into submission. How the further you slip away from him, the further he is from himself. Two parts of a whole lost to what nature made them, somehow, finding one another to latch onto. 

He leans into it. Embraces it. He needs to make this last. Take advantage of all that it is, fearing it may be the first and only time he’ll be lucky enough to have it. 

A heavy hand, his free one, presses against your lower belly. He can feel the drag of his fingers inside of you, just below his palm, sending his blood to a boil. Sweat graces his own brow; these are shared symptoms, that of your fever and his rut. Cosmic, burning from the inside out, like stars. Everything he is, created for you. 

He can feel the wave, the buildup of pressure in your gut that makes his own ache. Feels the wet tip of his cock in his jeans when you start to pant his name, when a flimsy hand reaches for the flannel you tucked away so neatly, and yanks it toward your face. Smothering yourself with it, shoving your nose to his scent. 

“Alpha—nghh!” 

“C’mon, baby. C’mon,” he chants; a mantra. Presses harder onto your burning belly, extends his thumb to circle over your throbbing clit in time with his flexing wrist. 

Your body seizes, soft, full breasts rising and falling as you desperately gulp the air. Your poor legs tremble so hard, you can’t keep them upright anymore without his help, so they drape over his shoulders. Squeeze them tight, claws nearly drawing blood against his scalp, and your pussy sucks him into the knuckle. Grips on like a vice before the wave crashes, and you’re gushing around his fingers. Crying out ecstasy, soaking his chin, his chest, your limp legs. 

“Fuuuck,” he’s growling, in awe of the little spurts of cum that keep flowing out of you with each measured jingle of his digits. He wants to see how much he can drain you before he removes them, how much pretty, perfect, omega slick you’ll make for him, every drop an homage to your yearning for what he’s preparing to give you. The thing that swells, and aches, and burns at the base of his cock, and he can’t help but rub it up against the side of the mattress, desperately seeking some of his own relief. 

You’ve lost yourself entirely now, he knows this. The orgasm he’s granted you sets your full heat into motion, and you’ll require more. Can sense it in the haze of your eyes, the delirious babbling of his name mingled with Alpha, Alpha, please. Tears coating your cheeks, an emptiness in the pit of you only he can fill. 

But one taste isn’t enough, and he’s greedy. Greedy, greedy alpha of a man, who needs more. Can’t help it as he watches the liquid pour from around his fingers, so he unsheathes them, quickly replacing them with his open mouth again to drink the goodness right out of you. A fountain of excellence he’s certain he’ll never tire of. 

He must be lost in this, the incessant need to quench his thirst, for some time. Because you start to whine and thrash below him, strings of pleas and sorrow alike. Pulling at his t-shirt, trying to tear it from him at this awkward angle. Telling him over and over that it hurts, Alpha, it hurts—and that just won’t do. 

He quickly replaces your wandering fingers, tugging his shirt up and off of him and retreating to his feet to battle with his belt buckle. You jolt up at this, suddenly alert, perching at the edge of the mattress, wet hair sticking to your face, eyes taking a curious path down bare skin. 

There’s a momentary wave of self-consciousness; he can’t remember the last time a woman saw him naked, let alone after the safety and comfort that Jackson provided. 

He’s aged. Gained a few pounds in his belly, muscles bulky and lined with fat instead of the lean mass they once were. But then, you place your palms on his chest. Flutter your eyes up at him as you glide your hands slowly over his torso, and make sure he’s watching when you lean forward and press a chaste kiss to his sternum. His eyes go dark, his insecurity silenced. 

“Wanna taste it, Alpha,” you demand, voice breaking at the edges. Sounding simultaneously foreign and never more like yourself. Shaky fingers reach down, cupping him through his boxers, making his dick jump, and he sucks the air through his teeth. “Can I taste it, please?” 

He grins down at you, because yeah, you’re good. So good. So polite. Just like he knew you would be. Good, kind, generous little omega, too much so for her own good. You rake at his bare chest, start to palm him slowly, batting dangerous eyes up at him. So tempting. He reaches down, takes your chin between his fingers, and pets your bottom lip with his thumb. Hoping to soothe away disappointment. Because as much as he wants to be selfish, he needs to be inside of you. 

“No time for that now, sweet baby. Not this time. Wanna give it to you somewhere else.” He drops his hand, splaying his fingers low over your abdomen. “Right in here, huh? Isn’t that what you want?”

Oh, yes. Yes, it is. You nod up at him, frantic, mouth hung open and drool spilling out the sides. Ravenous thing you are, just as hungry as he. 

“C’mere. Let me help you.” 

He’s got you by the hips, lowering you properly back against the pillows. He shuffles out of his boxers, and you watch him, dazed; your fingers in your mouth, chewing on them. Knees up to your chest, thighs rubbing back and forth, slipping so easily with all the pretty slick he’s pulled out of you. 

Vulnerable little creature you are, you welcome him into your nest. Pull your fingers out from your teeth and extend them towards him, and spread your legs for him to settle his mass between. And when he does, there’s a shared sounding of pleasure. He sits back on his heels, guiding the weight of his heavy cock over your cunt, and fuck, if you aren’t just perfect like this. 

Your body burns, a fire he must extinguish. He leans forward, exasperating you a bit when he drapes his weight over you, caging you in with elbows on either side of your head. His knees still cradle your ass, and he uses the mounted leverage to grind his cock against you. He huffs, his knot blazing, painful and stiff, and his gut is on fire. You’re so warm, so wet, and he slips so easily between you. He can’t help but growl out when you begin to meet his thirst with needy rocks of your own. 

Your eyes droop shut, hands seeking purchase on his shoulders, and he uses his to cradle each side of your scalp. He presses his forehead to yours, captures your parted lips in a searing kiss. 

“You’re gonna give me another one,” he mumbles, drawing back from you, reaching for his stiff cock and gripping it tight. His eyes drop to where you’re nearly connected, so close. You glisten along his shaft, and he uses it to rub the angry tip of him back and forth over your folds, parted petals that threaten to suck him in each time he catches on the opening. He taps it on your tender clit; you quiver and clench, wailing out frustration. 

“N-no please—please,” you beg, eyes brimming with tears again. You slide your hands underneath his arms, digging your nails under his shoulder blades. “Please put it inside me, Alpha. Please, please.” 

“You can do it, baby.” 

“I can’t, please. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” 

And you do. You chase the high vigorously. The jerks of your hips follow him, taking great precision in the way he slides his shaft up and down your swollen little seam, paying special attention to your clit. He can feel the way it jumps and throbs, all the juices flowing out of you dowsing over him, dripping down onto his knot. 

He can’t look away, an obscenely beautiful sight. And the next time you quiver, clench around nothing, and call out his name, he just can’t help himself. 

He slips inside of you with one, tenacious thrust. Met with no resistance, only warmth and fullness. Your entire body goes rigid, eyes bulged and lips hung open in surprise, before relaxing entirely. You melt into him, the fury of your need thawing with his gift, and you sigh a beautiful sound of reprieve. Vanilla melds with leather, interwoven, and he knows he’s ruined you for any others. 

And he. He’s sweating, and panting, and the shudder won’t leave his spine. He’s never felt anything quite like it, the flutter of a fertile omega’s cunt around his cock. He was dreaming before, and now he’s awake. Startled by all that is perfectly right. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it.” He rolls his hips once, the tip of him bruising your cervix, and you sigh his name. “Promised I’d make it all better, yeah?”

You use the leverage of his shoulders to crane your neck up, pressing your forehead to his. Your thighs straddle his ribcage, clinging to him, needy little pet that you are. 

“S-so full, Alpha. It’s so big.” 

“I know, baby. I know,” he coos. “But look.” He parts with a fleeting kiss to your chin, sitting back on his heels and dropping his gaze to where you’re connected. A thick ring of cream sits above his knot, and it pulses at the sight. “Look how well she’s taking me.” 

You shakily bring yourself to your elbows, peering with drunken eyes and O-shaped lips. Your brows knit at the center of your forehead, and the precious, fucked-out look you cast up is enough to send him into motion. 

He grunts, wrapping his hands around your hips and yanking your bum up and onto his thighs. His pace is slow but deep, focused on kissing your womb with every thrust. Now that he’s inside of you, he can focus on nothing but the result. How imperative it’s become that he fills you. Satiate the ache by pumping you with his seed. He bares his teeth, images of his spend dripping out of you flashing before his eyes. He needs it. Chases it with fury, a conquest. But he won’t let it go to waste. No, he needs to knot you. Be certain that every drop of it touches your womb. How it would feel to have you latched to him, the prospect of its ramifications—a swollen belly, a piece of you carrying a part of him—sounding nothing but appealing.  

“JoelJoelJoel.” You’re repeating his name like a prayer, looking at him with such devotion. 

He’s picked up his pace, instinctive. Hard enough now that your flimsy mattress springs squeak, and the headboard thumps against the wall. You’ve fallen back into your pillows, your hands coming up to knead and pull at your breasts, and fuck, if it doesn’t gratify him to see you lean into the pleasure. 

He knows you're close when the tears at your waterline begin to stream down your cheeks. He scoots you further up his thighs, places a heavy hand back on your belly, and sure enough, on his next thrust, he can feel the bulbous tip of his cock through the skin. He grits his teeth, and he knows you must feel it too because you gasp as if he’s committed some sort of crime, shock and disbelief. 

“Feel you—haa—in-in my stomach, Alpha.”

“That’s right, baby,” he grunts. “In your fuckin’ guts. Just where you needed me.” 

His thumb drops to your clit, circles it with the rhythm of his thrusts, and makes you sing. There isn’t, and he’s sure there never will be, anything like the way you feverishly clench around him. Actively trying to suck him in, the steady flow of tears and cum, your incoherent babbles, beyond your control. He needs you closer, he needs to saturate you with every part of him. 

He rolls onto his back, scooping you into his chest and dragging you along with him. Gets you good and propped on his bent legs before he drives up into you. You collapse onto his chest, desperate hands clinging to his pecs. You burrow your nose into his neck, and he nearly bursts at the seams when you tease your teeth across his beating gland. 

“One more,” he seethes, bouncing you up and down with a great force; you needn’t even help him. He takes palm-fulls of your ass, secures the reins. Your hips will bruise by morning, but he doesn’t care. It’s worth the desperation in the way you cling to him, call to him. “Give me one more, Omega, and I promise I’ll give you what you need.” 

You wail out, half protest, half pledge, and you’re actively clamping down on him. Working your tight cunt over his shaft, milking him closer and close to the shining edge, and he feels his belly begin to boil. His head pounds and his gland aches, and as soon as you release again, unable to curb yourself from the pleasure he vows, the voice worms its way back into his ear. Chanting now, now, now. 

He spills into you with a mighty roar, stuffing his knot up inside of you as soon as it expands. He digs his teeth into your shoulder, pushes your hips further, and further down, nowhere else to go, but he has to be sure he’s filled you tight. That he can keep you here, locked onto him for as long as it takes to eradicate the delirium, as many times as you need him to fill your fertile little womb. 

And you come again, all from just this. Tight, soft, and bruised, you clamp around his knot as if you’re worried you’ll lose it. And he squeezes his eyes shut at the overstimulation, bites on his tongue to curb the pain, and lets it flourish in glorious pleasure. His cock releases another string of cum, and Joel groans. 

You’re hardly lucid on his chest, trembling, breathing heavily. One of your hands wraps around his sticky shoulder, clutching into his skin, trying to steady yourself. He works carefully to soothe you, to nurture the heavy come down, and avoid a dangerous drop. He scoots himself up the mattress, taking you with him until you’re both comfortably propped against the headboard; there’s no telling how long you’ll be united like this, but he has no intention of rushing it. He drags his large palms over the length of your spine, litters kisses along your hairline, and you both share a whining sound each time he stiffens and spurts inside of you. He allows his eyes to shut, focusing on steadying his breath, the sound of your beating heart. 

Eventually, your body settles. You start to breathe evenly again, grow limp, purring little sounds of contentment. He lifts a hand to push away the hair that sticks to your cheeks, and you reach for it, latching your bony fingers around his wrist. You nuzzle your nose into his palm and wrap your lips around two of his fingers. He lets you suck on them like this for a while, humming, the salty taste of him seeming to quiet your nervous system and ease you back into a state of equilibrium. 

There will be consequences for what’s transpired here. The post-euphoric clarity lays his transgressions bare and forces him to examine them. He feels, quite regrettably, the return of war. That between himself and his nature, though here and now, they are far more intertwined than they’ve ever been. 

He has a decision to make, one that months, days, hours ago seemed so clear. That he will not give way for the monstrosity he harbors, if only to save you from a lifetime of horror and regret. 

But the hours, minutes, seconds have passed, and they dwindle to this moment where he realizes, almost jarringly, how wrong he may have been. That the great fight against what nature bestowed him retreats within your stronghold. The worry is silenced, the weight lifted, the burden removed. He isn’t a soldier, but a man. 

Only a man. So simple, and so freeing. 

“Stay with me?” you mumble as if you can read his mind, letting his fingers slip from your lips, and already drifting to a place somewhere deep between sleep and wake. It’s a single question worth a million, holding the weight of your existence, the entire world. 

He knows he shouldn’t. He knows that if he stays, no amount of self-control will prevent him from indulging your needs over and over again. He knows how brittle his distaste is—was, a façade—and how quickly he will devote himself to you. 

You’re all he would require to live and breathe. 

Most terrifying, he knows the primal urge will only continue to spread. And for some purpose far beyond him, while he’s coated in your scent and slick and the haven of your arms, he won’t be able to find a reason to stop himself from sinking his teeth into that sweet spot upon your neck. 

He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, your kindness, you. You’re a chance at redemption, something he is certain he relinquished decades ago. You’re an opportunity, an outlet to release his grief, his anger, his hatred for this world and his place in it, and turn it into devotion, protection. 

He doesn’t deserve it. 

But the way you look at him now, head nuzzled against his chest, pupil-blown eyes the picture of vulnerability, it satisfies the beast. Sets every nerve ending on fire. Tugs him forward frighteningly taut, unable to recoil. 

You look at him like you need him. 

And he needs to be needed. It’s all he’s ever wanted. 

“Alright,” he whispers. “I’ll stay.” 

[stellarstarcelios]

Helios' Imaginary Friend Adventures - "Sleepy Angel"

Another little drabble I finished up today! :D

This one is a little piece featuring me and my imaginary friend of Mercy from Overwatch. :)

Enjoy!

Divider I used can be found here!

Helios looked down, eyes moving to the side of the bed as he heard a small noise. It was a familiar one, a sound of fluttering wings. He smiled as his small, pocket-sized imaginary friend of Mercy made her way to the bed where he sat. She landed with all the grace of a pop culture angel, and those enchanting blue eyes of hers met Helios’ brown eyes.

Helios grinned ever so softly, pulling off his gaming headset. “Hi, Angela.” 

“Hello, Helios,” Mercy giggled. She walked to sit down next to her friend, plopping down onto the mattress and leaning against the human.

A light blush dusted Helios’ face as he moved his gaze down to the tiny doctor. His brown gaze met her blue one once again. Mercy was just so adorable.

The angelic looking hero asked her friend, “Do you have any plans for today, Hübscher?”

The human chuckled. “Nothing really, other than… well, I was going to go watch TV once I’m done here. Did you want to come with me?”

The doctor answered, “I’d love to watch TV with you. What are we going to watch?”

“I guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we?”

*****

Mercy shifted a bit on the blanket where she sat, waiting for Helios to come back to the couch with the popcorn he was making. The sound of the human’s footsteps finally reached her ears and she watched Helios come around the corner, bowl of popcorn in hand.

When he sat down, Helios placed the bowl beside him, making sure it didn’t land on Mercy in the process. Though it would just move through her like a ghost, it wasn’t pleasant just from what he had been told.

The tiny doctor scooted a little closer to the taller human and reached a hand up to hold onto one of his fingers. She could see him pick up the remote and click on a show called, “To Catch a Smuggler.” Mercy moved to lean on his side and asked, “What’s this show about, Heli?”

“It’s about the customs and border protection officers in airports and at borders in the United States. They mostly catch people trying to smuggle drugs or transport food or merchandise they can’t bring in.”

Mercy nodded. “Sounds fun to watch.”

Helios grinned. “Well, it is kinda fun trying to guess if they’ll find anything on the people they stop. My mom and I love watching this together.”

“Then I’ll give it a chance.” The blue eyes of the doctor moved up to the bowl as her friend placed a piece of popcorn next to her. She took a small chunk off as the episode of the show started. 

After a few episodes, Mercy and Helios had both had their fill of the popcorn and sat back into the cushions. There was a comfortable silence between them as their eyes stayed on the screen. 

That is, until Mercy let out a small yawn.

Helios blinked in surprise and moved his head to see his little friend struggling to keep her eyes open. He raised a brow. “Angela, you good?”

She let out a tired, “I’m… trying to stay awake, Helios. Key word is ‘trying.’”

“Wow, Angie, I’ve never seen you look so exhausted. Usually I’m the sleepy one around this time of night.” Helios gently pet Mercy’s hair with a finger. “You look absolutely wiped out. What did you do today?”

Mercy sighed. “I had to go on a mission today. And let me tell you–Ramattra was attached to me like a moth to a flame.” She rolled her blue eyes. “I don’t know what it is with Rama, but he’s so clingy when it comes to me. I know I’m our medic, but he doesn’t have to always be attached to me at the hip.”

Helios giggled at that. “Maybe he likes you?”

She closed her eyes and laughed, and how that sound made Helios’ heart soar. 

“Ramattra? Liking me? That’s silly, Mein Herz. He doesn’t like any humans.”

“I don’t know, Angie. You’re pretty likable to me.”

That made the little doctor smile up at Helios, though she was still struggling to stay awake. She leaned against him and nuzzled her head into his hand. “I suppose so.”

Helios watched Mercy’s eyes fall, slowly, ever so slowly, her lids fell lower and lower. After a few moments, she was peacefully asleep, breathing slowly and hands unconsciously holding onto the human. He carefully scooped Mercy into his hands and rose from the couch. The doctor stayed asleep, surprisingly enough, as Helios walked to the bedroom and placed her onto the bed in his dollhouse. She fit perfectly into it, and a tiny blanket was pulled over her.

Helios chuckled ever so quietly, pet her hair again, and whispered, “Good night, Angela. Sleep well, my friend.”

Mercy awoke later that night, surprised at first to be in the bed. However, when she saw the quiet, peaceful face of her friend, she beamed, laid back on the bed, and fell back into a blissful rest. She knew Helios would always love her as her friend, and she would always do the same for him.

[melstinybrain]

sirius: hello, betrayer.

james: merlin, pads, i've been married to your brother for 25 years!

[the-bar-sinister]

Obsessed with villainous displays of affection.

violence on their beloved's behalf.

deranged compliments and praising bad deeds.

stealing nice things for their beloved.

jealousy and possessiveness.

encouraging their beloved to be worse.

crimes together.

[melancholicstation]

HUSBAND JACK SCHLOSSBERG HEADCANONS 𓍼 𓇢𓆸

taglist: @remotewatch @bloxholden35 @kennediva @h-l-vlovesvintage @absurdlyvintage @chemicalw0rld @fortheloveofjos @kimcrystal123 @astro-vibes-bro @tsloverr-13

might make this into a couple of one-shots??

imagining WIFE!READER as an orion carloto type, who balances modelling and writing, and makes tiktoks in the same vain of alanabananaxox on tiktok (she's been my no.1 tiktoker since 2021) and sotce.

met wife!reader at a runway after party of an up and coming new york indie brand ( sandy liang, khaite, bode etc. )

proposes to you with the blythe doll you had been obsessing over, dressed in a wedding dress and hand-customised by a popular etsy dealer with quite a high rate like this girl on tt

encouraged by jack to do a ‘what’s in my ( miu miu joie leather ) bag’ video on tiktok to help campaign for kamala akin to this video of anne hathaway but with a different vibe.

jack is ultimate embarrassing hard launcher bofy, leaving in all his girlfriends giggles that come from his chaotic antics when filming his videos.

wife!reader loves to slather jack’s face in biologique recherche’s “masque vivant”, he complains that it smells like rotting meat😹😹😹😹😹.

jack would be always on that damn phone during your runway shows, recording each time you pass him by in the catwalk.

would be the absolute opposite of marriage-shy.

unpopular opinion this man would be asking about marriage, a solid 3 months in ( jfk and jackie married in a YEAR )

fucks UP a rotisserie chicken.

forwards you his tweets before and asks if they’re good enough to post.

smells like aesop musk and of herbal deodorant.

wife!reader buys rick owen’s black and white t-shirts and slacks for jack, and jack’s absolutely baffled when he learns the price tag.

love language is buying wife!reader drinks whenever and wherever they are: hot chocolate in central park, home-delivers you a sab benedetto sparkling water because he had a meeting at cipriani downtown, and always orders a polo bar punch for you prior to your arrival to your shared weekly dinner date at the polo bar on 55th st.

instigates a24 marathons on friday nights, much to the dismay of your prior night plans ( you are more of a criterion collection girl and have held a subscription since you were a freshman in college )

( clumsily ) slips lana del rey lyrics into sexting and dirty talk.

husband!jack and wife!reader texts go like this:

jack is horrific at low impact pilates, he needs to be near a body of water.

he wears your prized doublesoul x orion caroloto ‘lamb’ socks around your woodfloored high-rise despite your varied attempts at hiding them from him.

constantly frets over you during society galas, which is quite convenient due to your tempered social anxiety and your forgetful memory of high society etiquette.

immediately brings you to meet the family, for which you were completely unprepared for ( i’m imagining something reminder of that one story of meghan markle meeting princess kate middleton in ripped jeans and bare feet )

jack loves to wear your 100% cotton brandy melville pointelle tanks despite them being comically tiny for his frame.

would have an innocence kink.

he gets intensely flushed when called his proper full name: john bouvier kennedy schlossberg, wife!reader abuses this to the HIGHEST degree!!!

the first time he entered you apartment he was constantly paranoid of breaking anything because your house was littered with ceramics from brooklyn under-ground designers and clay lamb figurines.

he NEEDS his beauty Zzzzzzz or else.

plays with your very expensive westman atelier blushes like a toddler.

sickly devoted to you.

you both want to adopt a lamb despite living in a HIGH-RISE apartment.

sends pics captioned with anaïs nin lewd quotes.

he would think whole foods was stupidly over priced but would purchase his groceries there in spite of his opinions.

has hyperfixations on old-hollywood women which causes you to be snippy at him for exactly 2-3 hours ex. jack’s current hyper fixation on audrey hepburn being his doppelgänger.

wife!reader definitely participated in that egg cracking trend where girls would crack an egg on their boyfriends head.

would love caring for your hair and doing your curly girl hair routine if you had one.

wife!reader does small yet viral shoots for brands like mirror palais, the row, and loewe.

manhandles you ( lovingly ) without even trying.

mans is a chronic diptyque candle lighter.

loves to be coddled and cradled as a grown man…

plays with your van cleef stack before stage when he’s nervous about his speech landing correctly

uses his family connections to get his girl courted by the high-ticket fashion brands: schiaparelli, chanel, dior, yves saint laurent etc.

[kimiko24-art]

Please please I'm begging you let's explore more adult/darker themes in self shipping

[angels-of-horror]

Writing what you think other people want to read over what you want to write will slowly kill your creativity.

Write those self indulgent fics! Write those self-inserts. Write what you find joy in creating—not what you think is an objectively “good” story. If you have fun writing it, it is good. I promise there’s someone out there who will enjoy reading your stories as much as you enjoy writing them.

[absurdthirst]

The Mismatch {Alpha!Dieter Bravo x Omega!F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.1k

Warnings: Alpha/Omega dynamics, mentions of social structures, classism, drug use (it's Dieter), mentions of bisexuality, deceit, jealousy, mentions of knotting, fighting, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, knotting

Comments: Tired of living a life of debauchery, Dieter decides to use Omega Finder, to discover who is omega is. Witnessing this folly as his assistant, you know that he won't find her. Until he does, confusing you since you are his omega.

*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia.

Co-written by @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

"Dieter. It's a pleasure to sit down with you today." The interviewer from The New York Times sits down with the actor. 

"It's a pleasure to be here." He smiles, his wedding ring flashing from the bright lights that have been set up in his living room.

"So, you've been married for ten years now. How are you enjoying married life?" The interviewer asks and Dieter grins, "it's amazing. I love her more and more every day. I never imagined it would be  like this." He declares and the interviewer nods, "you had an agency find your mate, correct?" Dieter nods, "yes...but it wasn't smooth sailing."

****

Everyday it surprises you that Dieter Bravo is an alpha. The neediness, the whining, the childish pouts when he doesn’t get his way or someone doesn’t recognize him on the street. You would have never guessed that he was an alpha before you started working for him. The alarm on your phone goes off, reminding you to take your suppressants and you pull the pill bottle out of your purse, popping one into your mouth as the trailer door flings open and Dieter rushes inside. The set makeup looks comical considering his eyes are widened and excited but the makeup is bold and dramatic. “I’m going to do it!” He cries out enthusiastically, making you frown. 

“Do what?” 

He huffs and rolls his eyes, expecting you to read his mind, you already anticipate every single one of his needs - right down to his drug resupply. “I’m going to find my mate!” 

Your eyes widen in shock, surprised that he would even consider that. “What? Why?”

Dieter looks up from his phone, "I want to find my omega. This agency...they will find them. They track the DNA data and find your mate...for a large fee of course." Dieter says and you sigh, knowing that the man is incapable of being monogamous. "Not available to the normies...you guys have MateMatch or whatever. This is for the elites who don't have time or the capacity to go out on dates sniffing for their omega." He snorts and looks in the mirror, "I want to settle down. Getting too fucking old now. I want my mate. My person." He declares, frowning at the wrinkles on his face.

Normies. Dieter thinks you are a beta. It doesn’t help that you have been on suppressants since before you worked for him, and you’ve never corrected him on his mistake. For good reason. Dieter does not need to know that you are an omega. “Dieter…” you sigh. “Your mate will expect you to be monogamous.” You remind him. “Biology will expect you to be monogamous. Once you are bonded….you can’t sleep around.”

Dieter rolls his eyes, “duh. I know that. I’m tired of waking up in a pile of bodies covered in cum and no one. No. One. Wants to cuddle me when the daylight is coming in the window. I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life. I’m not stupid. I know that my looks and money will take me so far but when I’m shitting myself, who is gonna love me? My mate would.” He says dramatically, “I’ve made up my mind. The agency is already trying to find them.” He declares, “I’ll be a mated man in no time.”

You try not to huff, knowing he would pry and when Dieter wants to know something he will pester you until you give in. The truth is, he won’t find his mate easily, because she’s already standing in front of him. “Just…don’t get discouraged if it takes some time.” You offer, feeling slightly guilty about not telling him the truth and costing him a lot of money. You know he wouldn’t want you as his mate, you’re his assistant. The only reason you know that painful truth is because of a week he was away and your suppressants had run out. The shirt he had stuffed in your bag one night had called to you, making you go into heat until you could get a refill on your prescription. Blocking your scent again for when you were around him.

Dieter scoffs, "they are professionals. I bet I am married off before the end of the year. Dieter Bravo...serial monogamist. Now that would be a headline." He chuckles and reaches up to adjust his hair before he heads out onto set. 

It takes a couple of weeks but finally, Dieter gets the call. It's late after a long day of press junkets and Dieter is in the back of the town car beside you when his phone rings. "Hello?" He answers, putting it on speaking because he doesn't like the phone on his face. 

"Hi, Mr. Bravo. We have news." Shelley, the agency advisor says and Dieter bites his lip, nervous as fuck. "We found her!" Shelley declares and Dieter's eyes widen. 

"Oh wow. It's - it's a woman. Not that I'm complaining. I don't mind but - wow." He chokes, shocked that this is suddenly real.

You can hear everything, fingers twisted together and you hate how your gasp makes him turn towards you. They found you somehow? How did this company manage to get a sample of your DNA? You never allowed any of your blood to be put into a database. Shifting in your seat, you prepare for a difficult conversation with your boss about why you hid your omega status, and the fact that you are his mate.

“They found my mate.” He declares and Shelly continues to give Dieter the details. 

“Her name is Polly and she lives in San Fran. We are arranging for her to come here to L.A this weekend. She’s younger than you. 28. Blonde. Blue eyes. She’s fertile and ready to find her forever.” Shelley declares and Dieter shakes his head. 

“I can’t - I can’t believe it.” He grins and bids Shelley goodbye after confirming she will email the details. “Can you come with me to meet her? I’m- I’m fucking nervous.” He admits, his hands shaking slightly.

Stunned silent for a moment, you don’t know what to say. They couldn’t have found someone else, there’s never been a case of anyone having two mates. “I-um- Dieter….” 

He frowns, grabbing your hand. “Please, I need you. You know what to do to keep me calm. I can’t be high when I meet my mate.” He begs, making you bite your lip. 

“Yeah, I guess.” You murmur quietly, unsure if you need to tell him this company is lying to him.

He exhales shakily, squeezing your hand, “thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He says, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. He feels a spark from your skin but he thinks it’s the tab he took before he left his trailer. “I need you there because I can’t afford to mess this up.” He stresses and you nod, a frown still on your face but he doesn’t notice.

You need to find out what company Dieter hired to find his mate, because they have fucked up royally. He lets go of your hand and you immediately start going through his schedule. If you know anything about him, he will want to have a chemical peel, to rejuvenate his skin and meet with that spiritual hack that he is convinced works miracles on his aura.

Dieter panics every single hour of the day until the moment arrives. He exhales shakily, his hands shaking and he's stone cold sober, not even a swig of booze. He looks over at you as he waits for his mate, dressed in a blue suit and his hair styled. "How do I look?" He asks, needing some reassurance.

He looks incredible. You’ve managed to never feel jealous throughout all the lovers that have come through Dieter’s bed. Never let yourself be jealous. Now you are. He’s excited and hopeful, a light in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. “Dee….” He turns that expectant smile on you and you know it’s not the time to talk to him about this Omega Finder agency, “you look great.” You admit. “All Alpha-y.”

He pushes his shoulders back, puffing out his chest with pride that you think he looks like an alpha. He has never conformed to what an alpha should be. Some extreme groups dictate that alphas should become first class citizens like it was before the Omega/Beta Civil Rights Act in the 50s. He has fought hard for equality in the wake of his biological makeup and he hopes he has provided a good road map for younger alphas looking to break the mold. He has a tugging in his chest, his eyes meeting yours, and he disregards it as nerves. 

Shelley from the agency enters the room and Dieter swallows down the words that were bubbling in his throat, words that were foreign to his tongue. He wanted to thank you for helping him with everything. "It's time." Shelley declares and Dieter adjusts his jacket, rolling his neck as he follows Shelley to meet his mate.

You trail along behind him, curious to find out what kind of person they have gotten to play Dieter’s omega. You hate how excited he is, knowing that he would never be this happy if he knew you were his mate.

Dieter enters the room that was set up to meet his omega and she is facing away from him until he is a few steps away. She turns just as he approaches her, a wide smile on her face. "Dieter, baby! My alpha!" She cries, throwing herself in his arms. His arms wrap around her. She's gorgeous. Like supermodel gorgeous and Dieter buries his face in her neck, breathing her in. Her scent is warm and inviting, making him melt against her, and he feels like this is right. This is his omega. He's read about how this moment should feel. How it should make him want to drag her off to bed right away, make him want to cover her in his scent, but maybe that was the old method. Times have changed and you can't just fuck someone you meet seconds before. He squeezes her waist and pulls back, leaning in to kiss her softly. "Omega." He declares, knowing the agency must know who his match is and he won't doubt it. He wants this. He wants to be settled down and if it's Polly, then it''s Polly.

You can smell her. You frown when the scent is one that you know well. It’s your scent! Your nose curls slightly, aware that something has been manipulated and you aren’t sure what. There is no way that she should smell like you.

Polly kisses him back, her eyes wide and a smile on her face as she takes in the appearance of her alpha. "You're so handsome." She coos, cupping his cheeks, and he smiles at her. "You're beautiful." He declares and she smirks, "oh I know." He chuckles, a little awkward at her confidence but it's not a bad thing.

You instantly dislike her. It’s the conceited aura dripping out of her pores, along with the fact that you know this woman is lying to Dieter. You swallow back the jealousy, wishing you had told Dieter the truth before now.

“So…should we go get dinner? Get to know each other?” He suggests and she nods. Dieter feels a little more confident as he takes her hand in his and turns to look at you. “You booked the restaurant, right? I booked the whole place. I didn’t want us to be interrupted and it’s early days so the press would disturb us.” He explains to Polly who beams at the news that Dieter rented out an entire restaurant for her.

You snort, knowing you are the one who had called the restaurant to reserve the entire thing. It hadn’t been easy and you had to promise the entire staff exorbitant tips to make up for there only being one guest. Dieter’s LLC would pay it. You’ll have Dieter sign photos later on to give the staff too on the promise not photos or autographs tonight.

Polly squeals in excitement and Dieter’s smile falls slightly at the annoying sound. He doesn’t want to rip her clothes off. She’s beautiful but she’s like a lot of women his PR team set him up to date. Still, she’s his mate, his omega. You can’t deny science and biology. Her scent was mouthwatering and he can’t wait to get to know her more. “Shall we go?” Dieter asks, holding his hand out to Polly who nods and Dieter turns to look at you, “you’re dismissed. Thanks for helping.” He says, his eyes flat as he looks at you.

“Of course.” It hurts, it cuts deep when he looks at you like you are a piece of furniture but that's what you deserve for not being honest with him. “It’s my job.” You can’t watch the gorgeous woman drape herself over him for another second so you turn and walk to the door, wanting to get away from them and figure out what to do next.

****

“So…what’s it like being an Oscar winner?” Polly asks Dieter over dessert. 

Dieter sighs, setting his fork down, “it’s…a lot of pressure. The expectations are higher. When I was just getting started, I was constantly fighting, battling for screen time and now? I don’t even need to audition. It feels like I have let myself get lazy.” He admits and Polly shakes her head, “that just means you get the bigger jobs. More money. That’s success baby.” She winks and Dieter nods, “I guess so but I miss being a struggling artist sometimes.” He confesses and Polly giggles, thinking he’s joking. He chuckles alongside her, going along with “the joke.” When the date is over, Dieter pulls her close to kiss her, his head tilting to deepen the kiss and she cups his cheeks, sliding her tongue against his. Neither of them know that one of the kitchen staff that didn’t sign an NDA snaps a photo that will be splashed over the papers tomorrow. “Dieter and his omega” the headlines will read. 

****

“So did you know when you met her that she was your mate?” The interviewer asks, tilting his head, and Dieter chuckles. 

“No. Not really. Everyone talks about how you instantly connect. The romance movies that show the alpha and omega immediately kissing but that wasn’t what happened with me. It was slow. It took a while to recognize her and when I did, it was spectacular.” 

****

Dieter kisses Polly when she arrives at his house, ushering her inside. They have been dating for a few weeks, commuting between San Fran and L.A. “You got those spring rolls that Pol likes?” Dieter asks you when you set the take out bag down. It’s been chaotic since the press found out about his mate but he’s handled it, leaning into the story about wanting to find his omega. Polly handled it with grace and he’s ready to take the next step if she is tonight.

“Yes.” The answer is clipped, short. Annoyed that his ‘omega’ has started texting you demands like you work for her. When your priority is Dieter. 

“What’s wrong with you?” He huffs, pouting that you are being short with him. Dieter loves nothing more than to be adored and since Polly has shown up, your temper has been easily provoked. 

“Nothing.” You sigh, reminding yourself that you signed up for this. You didn’t tell him the truth. “Dee….are you sure the company is right?” You venture. “That she’s your omega?”

Dieter glances over at Polly who is on the phone to her friend and he shakes his head. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? I paid five hundred grand for them to find my mate and you think they are wrong? No way. She’s - she’s perfect for me.” His voice wavers slightly as the doubts that he keeps in the back of his mind jump out in the form of his assistant.

Your eyes widen slightly when he tells you how much he paid, making your stomach churn and your gag reflex almost make you retch. “Sorry.” You mumble quietly, looking down at the bag and pulling out the food that he had requested for an at home date. He’s become more closed off since ‘finding his omega’ and you miss the boss that you could ask him anything and get an answer. “Do I need to go see Tommy?” You ask quietly, wanting to know if he needs a resupply on his drugs.

Dieter glances back over his shoulder at Polly. Dieter nods, knowing he needs to restock. “Yeah. Tell him to send an invoice. He knows I’m good for it.” Dieter whispers, not wanting Polly to know he’s still doing drugs. She told him when they were having dinner that he needed to change his drug habit…and his wardrobe.

You nod, although you don’t say anything. Dieter has changed and while you are proud that his drug usage has lessened, he’s not doing it for himself. There will be a moment where he over indulges and you hate that. It’s another reason why you had never let him know that you are his mate, you didn’t want to demand he stop doing what he wanted. “I will arrange it, sir.” You revert back to the more formal interaction, knowing that Polly prefers that. “Will that be all?”

Dieter stares at you for a moment, tilting his head as his stomach twists with something unknown. “Dee Dee, I’m starving.” Polly groans as she walks into the kitchen. 

“No. That’s all.” Dieter murmurs and you nod, glancing at Polly who hums at you, narrowing her eyes. You don’t say another word as you leave and Dieter stiffens as Polly’s hand slides down his back. 

“I want you, Alpha.” She coos and Dieter sighs, knowing this moment would come and he hopes it’s everything he has heard sex between mates is. He guesses his venture into drugs and multiple partners was in vain to recreate that feeling that so many have described as unlike anything they have ever experienced. Tonight, he’s going to have that with Polly.

Out in your car, you sigh, closing your eyes to hold back the tears that you don’t deserve to shed. You chose this, you let all this happen and Dieter couldn’t be happier with a woman who wasn’t you. His ‘mate’. You think you know what’s going on, but you can’t prove it, and hating that you can’t just go off your suppressants to prove that you are his mate. He would accuse you of manipulating your scent, which is exactly what Polly is doing. “Fuck.” You hiss, leaning back and starting the engine. You need to get away from here before you go back inside and beg Dieter to knot you.

The dinner is cleared away and the TV plays some show but Dieter isn’t paying attention. Polly notices and leans in to kiss him, straddling him, and it progresses from there. Dieter can be a selfish lover, he’s ashamed to admit that, but this is his mate so he goes down on her. Her arousal doesn’t make him ravenous like others have described but he guesses it’s him. He’s killed his taste buds with acid. He makes her cum and then finally, he’s sliding inside of her. His head feels heavy but he kisses her, rocking into her until she clamps down on his cock and he grunts when he cums. No knot. He pulls out of her when he goes soft moments later and she kisses along his chest as she curls around him. He didn’t knot her. He frowns as she coos his name and he doesn’t know what he did wrong.

“That was amazing.” Polly makes sure that her tits are against his chest, her leg thrown over his as she toys with one of his nipples. She's heard a lot of wild things about Dieter Bravo over the years and while he wasn’t as unhinged as she’s heard, maybe it’s because this is the first time. It’s supposed to be romantic. “You are amazing and I’m so glad I’m yours, alpha.”

Dieter hums, turning his head to softly kiss her, his hand sliding along her spine. She’s his omega. He can’t deny that since the agency found her based on her DNA. He is hers and she is his. “Me too.” He murmurs, trying to push aside the feeling that something is off. 

****

“So why did you decide to speak to us now? You’ve won seven Oscars. Produced multiple movies. Why did you decide to tell your story?” The interviewer asks and Dieter smiles, “because it’s about her. My omega. I wanted to tell the world and explain what happened. In my own words.” He looks down at his wedding ring with love in his eyes.

****

Dieter hisses your name from across the room. Polly is on the computer in the office across the house, shopping with his card. She’s moved into his home within the past three months and Dieter is happy. He’s happy to have someone to talk to. Even if that person was you before Polly was found. He loves her, he does. She’s beautiful. You walk over to where he’s standing in the kitchen and he opens the cabinet door, pulling a small velvet box from the cereal bowl that never gets used. “What do you think? Think she will like it?” He asks, opening the box.

Your mouth goes dry, eyes fixed in the ring in his hand and you can’t believe how much Dieter has changed. You had expected him to screw up, honestly. You had been there for the end with Anika and Kate, witnessed firsthand the self-destruction that he was capable of. It was one of the reasons you had not admitted your discovery to him. The ring is beautiful and you hate it. You hate that Polly is lying to him and telling him the truth is going to break his heart. “You can’t marry her.” You blurt out, looking up into his eyes. “She’s not your mate.”

Dieter narrows his eyes, “what did you just say?” He hisses, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Polly isn’t nearby, that she hasn’t come into the room. 

“She - she isn’t your mate.” You stammer at the look in his eyes as he glares at you. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Questioning my mate? How fucking dare you.” He hisses, “you’re just jealous. Is that it? Because you’re alone and you haven’t found anyone. Fuck, I can’t - you are fired.”

Your mouth drops open in shock, unable to believe that Dieter just fired you. You’ve been with him for years. “Dieter-“ he shakes his head and holds his hand out. 

“Give me your keys.” He demands, his voice rough with anger. “Please- just listen to me-“ he cuts you off. 

“I don’t want to hear it!” He shouts, chest heaving with fury. “You’re jealous that I’m happy, that I found my mate!” He yells. “That you don’t even have a mate, since you’re nothing but a Beta.” 

Your chin trembles, never imagining Dieter would insult you for his (wrong) idea that you are a beta. “Fine.” Tears are pooling in your eyes and you dig into your pocket to pull out your keys. “Don’t blame me when you are miserable.” You hiss. “Or when you are fucking unhappy when you can’t knot her. Because she’s not your mate.” You slap his key into his palm and start to gather your things.

Dieter falters because he didn’t knot Polly last night or any night before that. How the fuck did you know that? He stares at you and clenches his fist around the key. His eyes narrow and he shakes his head, “get the fuck out. I can’t - she’s my mate. She’s my omega. How dare you argue that.” He growls and hates that you leaving is more upsetting than him not being able to knot Polly.

You sadly shake your head and sigh. “I’ve never had anything but your best interests in mind, Dieter.” You remind him quietly. “I hope you are blissfully happy with your ‘omega’.” You turn around and walk towards the door without saying anything else. You will have to call his manager and let him know, Dieter will need another assistant. You open the door and pause, looking back at the handsome alpha. “Goodbye, alpha.”

Dieter watches you go, his heart aching from losing you. You're not only his assistant but also his friend. "Good riddance." He tells himself as he sets the key down just as Polly appears with a smile on her face. 

"Hey baby." She coos, leaning in to kiss him and Dieter sighs, barely able to kiss her back. Polly pouts as she pulls back and runs her fingers through his hair. She needs to make him cut it, he looks better with it shorter. And to take that ridiculous earring out. “What’s the matter, baby?” She asks, pressing up against him. “You look sad. Can I cheer you up, somehow?”

Dieter turns his head to press his lips to hers. Maybe he was in his head last night. He slides his tongue against hers, deciding that he will be taking her to bed again. “You can cheer me up by letting me make my little omega cum.” He murmurs against her lips and she giggles, grabbing his hand to drag him into his bedroom. The ring is still in the drawer and he will give it to her in the next few days. He wants this. He wants to be settled.

****

“I was afraid of that.” Dieter’s longtime manager, Martin, sighs on the other end of the line. “His…omega has made comments about being ‘uncomfortable’ having an unattached Beta being his assistant.” 

You grit your teeth, wanting to tell him that you aren’t a beta and that Polly was a fucking scheming liar. Except you will just look pathetically jealous. “I’ve updated his calendar, but I guess I need to mail the laptop and the phone to you.” You tell him. “Unless you want me to drop it by?”

Martin really hates losing you. You managed to keep Dieter on schedule and on time. “Yeah. I guess you can mail it. Use the card and put the card in there too.” He says, rubbing his cheek. “You know he wants to marry her?” Martin asks and you hum, trying to not let your feelings show through. “I think it’s a mistake.” Martin admits, “but you can’t deny biology.” 

****

“So how was the proposal? When you asked her to marry you?” The interviewer asks and Dieter smiles softly, “it was perfect. I couldn’t have planned it better and when she said yes…I swear my heart was gonna explode.” He sighs and the interviewer chuckles at the look on his face. “I was the same with my omega.” 

****

“Will you marry me?” Dieter asks as he kneels down in front of Polly. The display on a private beach is all for her. The display of roses, the sign, the fireworks, the candlelit dinner. All for his omega. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Polly squeals and Dieter grins, standing up to kiss her. She wraps her arms around his neck and he breathes her in, that smell that has become familiar to him but doesn’t feel like home. Not like he’s been told. He ignores that and poses for the photos that will be published in the magazine. “Give them something and they will leave you alone.” His PR girl, Sally, told him when he protested having the engagement photos published. They will be printed tomorrow for the world to see.

You groan as you close the page on your phone, unable to stomach the sight of that smiling little fake, the gorgeous diamond ring gleaming in the photo as she caresses his chest. You’ve done a little research on Polly and she’s a failed actress. She’s been obsessed with Dieter and you think that she’s somehow gotten the agency to tell Dieter that she’s his mate. It’s frighteningly easy to clone the pheromones for a mate and they even do gland implants for those that wish to be an Omega and aren’t. You can’t help yourself and open the article again, looking at Dieter closely. Wondering if you are just imagining the uneasy edge to his eyes.

****

Dieter stares in the mirror, his hair cut shorter than he likes, and he sighs, wondering who it is staring back at him. Ever since he proposed to Polly three months ago, he’s gotten whiplash from how fast the wedding was planned. He barely got a say in the wedding plans after he paid for her to hire a planner and now here he is. His tux is pristine and he brushes down the non existent dust. So different from the man who would wear stained and hole ridden sweats. He still hasn’t knotted Polly. She said it could be because of the drugs so he’s given up everything but weed and the occasional molly. 

He invited you, wanting you to be here even if you are upset. He hasn’t spoken to you since that fateful day and he hopes he can reconcile with you. His chest has been aching since the day you walked out the door.

The invitation sits like a spector, mocking you as the elaborate gold leaf script announces the union between Dieter and Polly. An ‘amalgamation of love between an alpha and his omega’. The description makes you want to throw up. Still, you are touched that you received an invitation, feeling like it’s Dieter’s way of extending an olive branch. There’s no way Polly would have invited you willingly. You think about your closet, wanting to be well dressed while you witness your mate marry someone else.

****

“It sounds like a true romance between you and your leading lady. So, how was the wedding day? Everything you both dreamed of?” The interviewer asks Dieter who sighs with fondness of his memory of the day. 

“It was perfect. We declared our union in front of the world and it was intimate and everything I wanted.” He admits, “I can’t believe it’s been ten years since we ever married. What is the anniversary? Tin?” Dieter asks the interviewer who nods, “and the traditional gift is a diamond.” 

Dieter chuckles, “oh I know. I got her a beautiful new ring.” He says, proud of himself.

****

“I’m sorry ma’am, you aren’t on the guest list.” You frown at the security and reach into your clutch to pull out your invitation. 

“I have an invitation, right here.” You protest, showing them your name on the heavy card stock. “I can show you my license, I’m not crashing the wedding, I’m invited. I used to be Dieter’s assistant.” 

The larger man shakes his head and shrugs. “I guess you’ve been uninvited. No one gets in that isn’t on the list. By order of the bride.” 

You hiss in annoyance and take a deep breath. “Then I guess that I got dressed up for nothing.” You smile and turn from doors and walk back towards your car, wondering if there’s another way to talk to Dieter before the ceremony.

Dieter adjusts his cufflinks that Polly picked for him. She picked the most expensive thing for every detail of the wedding. It’s not like Dieter couldn’t afford it but he didn’t get to decide anything. It’s also being filmed for Vogue. Something that Dieter was against but Polly begged him and he couldn’t deny his mate. His mate. It sounds wrong but how can he deny biology?

Sneaking around the side of the building, you have slipped your shoes off because the heels are killing you and grabbed a bouquet of flowers to bring in, like you are a part of the florists crew. The staff is hurrying around and some of them throw you a grateful look as you set down the beautiful place setting where the others are clustered. Slipping down the halls to try to find Dieter.

Dieter exhales when the wedding planner comes over to tell him it’s nearly time. He sighs and adjusts his bow tie just as he looks over at the French doors in his groom’s suite. His eyes widen when he sees you standing there, heels in hand. He opens the doors and he gasps, “what are you doing here?”

“Dieter..” You drop your shoes and rush towards him. “You can’t marry Polly. She’s not your omega, she’s lying.” You stress, trembling with fear that he will just throw you out. “I know she’s not your mate, because I’m your real omega.” You had stopped taking your suppressants after Dieter fired you, letting your true scent come out as your glands started working again.

Dieter’s jaw drops and then he inhales. It hits him like a train. Your scent. More concentrated than Polly’s and more delicious. His cock hardens and his heart is pounding as he takes another breath. “What - how - but Polly- she?” He chokes, confused and torn. He wants to rip your clothes off right now. He closes his eyes, rubbing them to try and stop his head pounding.

“She lied to you.” You tell him quietly. “She had a gland transplant.” You had researched the procedures and you are sure that’s what she’s done. “I- I knew you would hate that your assistant was your mate, so I didn’t say anything when you used the agency. I thought they would never find me.”

He is so confused. You smell delicious but how does he know you’re not lying? The thought makes his stomach twist and he inherently knows it’s not true. “Why didn’t you - shit. She / the agency and Polly. How - I don’t understand.” His chest tightens and he starts to shorten his breath as his mind goes foggy.

“I don’t know how she did it, but she got them to lie to you.” You step forward, biting your lip. “I tried to tell you, I didn’t know how.” You admit quietly. “When I tried, you fired me. I thought you were happy, that you enjoyed still having that freedom that comes with not being with your mate.”

Dieter feels like he’s going to throw up. Your scent wafts over him, his cock hard in his pants and he shifts to sit down on the end of the bed in the groom’s room. He heaves, trying to process the mess he’s made by buying into Polly’s lies. 

He squeezes his eyes and that’s when you sing. “When I get older, losing my hair. Many years from now. Will you still be sending me a Valentine?” He opens his eyes, shocked that you’re singing his song. His comfort song. “Birthday greetings bottle of wine. If I'd been out till quarter to three Would you lock the door?” You sing and stand in front of him. “Will you still need me, will you still feed me?” You sing and he raises his head and sings along with you “when I'm sixty-four.” 

His eyes are wide, “how - how did you know - that song?” He chokes, his heart pounding in his chest.

“It’s your favorite song.” You whisper quietly. “You listen to it when you think no one is around. When you’re feeling lonely.” Swallowing harshly, you shake your head. “I fucked up, Dee.” You admit. “I was so convinced you didn’t actually want to find your mate that I didn’t trust you with the truth. It’s hurt so badly to deny what I need, on the basic, biological level.” You close your eyes. “If you love Polly, really love her and want her to be yours, I’ll leave.” You promise. “You’ll never see me again. You can have your happy future. I just-“ your eyes open again and you find his dark conflicted ones. “I want my alpha to be happy.”

Your words hit him like a brick wall and he stares at you. You stare back for a moment until you think you have your answer and you turn to leave. Dieter’s hand reaches for yours and he pulls you down into his lap, his nose buried in your scent gland so he can breathe you in properly. You’re his. His omega. He can’t get enough, inhaling your scent and he kisses your skin, making you whimper. That’s when he can’t hold back. His lips find yours and he cups the back of your neck, pressing you against him so he can slide his tongue into your mouth.

The shiver that runs through you is powerful, your body lighting up in pleasure as his tongue flicks inside your mouth. Nipples hardening and your cunt starting to get soaked from the scent of your alpha and the electricity that runs through your body as he touches you. Moaning quietly as you immediately submit to him, whining slightly when his fingers press against your glands at your wrist.

It’s indescribable how you feel, how he feels. Your scent clouding his senses and he can’t seem to get enough of you. His tongue slides against yours and his hands slide down to grab your waist, pulling you to straddle him and his cock is throbbing as you grind down against him. “Fuck. Omega.” He pants, “my omega.” He murmurs, his body recognizing you in a way it never recognized Polly.

You are caught up in it for a moment. Your heart racing with pure joy that he recognizes you, he sees that you are his mate. “Dee, Dieter-“ you pant as you pull away from him, aware that he is still technically engaged to another woman. “We - we can’t. You’re still- Polly.” Despite her deceit, you aren’t the kind of woman who betrays. 

He pants, resting his forehead against yours. “Shit.” He hisses, knowing he has to go out there and tell the world Polly isn’t his omega. “Baby, I have an idea. Revenge. A dish best served cold.” He smirks and cups your cheek, “I have a plan.” He declares, “I am going to wait for her to walk down the aisle and tell her what I know.”

“You are?” Your eyes widen dramatically and you know how embarrassing it will be for her to be exposed to the world like that. She deserves it though, she knows that she’s not his mate and she tricked him. “Dee- that means people will be asking how you didn’t know. Questioning that you didn’t knot her before now.”

Dieter nods, “I know. I’m going to tell them the truth. I thought I’d taken too many drugs that I couldn’t knot anyone. That could still be the case.” He warns you, “I just don’t know how she managed to fool me with your scent. How did she know? How did she get the agency to believe she was my mate?” He asks, pondering the situation while his hands caress you, comforted by your presence.

“I don’t know.” That’s the part that you haven’t figured out, no one at the agency would talk to you now that you aren’t Dieter’s assistant. “But I’m sure that you can find out, especially since you will be damaging their company image.” Your fingers sink into his hair and you scratch his scalp gently. “You cut your hair.” You hum. “I like it longer.”

He scoffs, “Polly likes it shorter.” He hates that he changed for her. “Come on, I have a wedding to ruin.” He smirks and helps you off his lap. “After it’s over, I want you, omega. For as long as you’ll have me.” He murmurs, caressing your cheek just as the doors open and the wedding planner walks in. Her eyes widen at the sight of you and Dieter so close and he lowers his hand. “We ready?” He asks, his back straightening and his voice taking on the alpha edge that he rarely uses.

You shiver slightly at the command that he has in his voice and you know that it’s inevitable that Dieter will have you tonight. You still wonder if he has ever wanted you or if it’s just because of your biology, but you can talk about this later. Right now, you have to stop Polly from scamming your alpha.

The wedding planner looks down at your bare feet and she looks back at Dieter who narrows his eyes at her, “we are ready.” He repeats and the wedding planner nods, jarred by his commanding tone, and they escort him through the halls. Dieter walks down the aisle without finesse, his hand holding yours and he sits you down on the front row, ignoring the murmurs and curiosity from the crowd. Half of whom he doesn’t even know who they are. He adjusts his jacket and stands straight, waiting for Polly to make her entrance.

You turn to look at her, having to admit that she looks beautiful. Her smile is beaming and bright as she walks serenely down the aisle. Obviously happy to be the center of attention. Until she spots you. She freezes for half a heartbeat and then her smile turns slightly wooden. Not that good of an actress as she picks up the pace slightly to meet dieter in front of the priest.

Dieter takes her hand when she approaches the floral arch that cost Dieter more money than he knows and he offers her an Oscar winning smile. He lets the officiant begin, speaking about the sanctity of marriage, of mating, and the unbreakable bond between Alpha and Omega. The words are ironic to Dieter but he doesn’t let that show. Cameras taking in his expression and when the officiant asks if anyone knows why they shouldn’t be wed, Polly turns her gaze to you. You remain silent and she narrows her eyes slightly, relieved that you didn’t make a scene. “Do you, Dieter Damian Bravo, take Polene Marie Smith to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The officiant asks and Dieter drops her hands, “no.” He declares and the crowd gasps. 

“Dieter. I don’t - what-?” Polly chokes and Dieter scoffs, turning to address the crowd. “This woman is not my omega. She somehow conned the agency I hired to find my mate into putting her forward. She had a gland implant and manufactured the scent of my real omega to fool me into believing she was mine. She’s not. She’s a fraud.” He growls, pointing at Polly.

“That’s not true!” Polly cries, shaking her head furiously and grabbing for Dieter’s hand, but he jerks away from her. “I am your Omega! I am! I have always been yours, from the moment I met you, saw you, I knew you were my mate!” She presses her fingers to her scent gland and holds it out to him. “This is real, my scent - it’s your mates!” She technically is right but you scoff and shake your head.

Dieter rips his hand from hers, shaking his head, “you’re right. It is my mate’s but that isn’t you. It’s her.” He points to you on the front row and the crowd gasps again. “You’re not my omega. Fuck, I couldn’t knot you. I thought there was something wrong with me but it’s you. It’s not me. You’re not my omega.” Dieter hisses and the crowd murmurs as shock ripples through the crowd.

Your eyes widen when he admits to the world that he hadn’t knotted her. The fact that this is being broadcasted live because of her obsession with Dieter’s fame means that there is no way that this scandal is going to be swept away. “How did you do it?” You demand. “Did you trick the company, or did Omega Finder knowingly scam a rich and famous client?”

Polly slumps, knowing the jig is up. Tears in her eyes as she looks at you then her eyes slide over to Dieter. "I have loved you since you were in Hunger Strike. I knew you were mine. I just needed to get close to you. My friend started working at Omega Finder and he - he messed up so I blackmailed him. Made him match me with Dieter in the system. I got a gland transplant when he found out who Dieter's actual omega is and I - I copied the scent listed. I am a beta. I just - I love you so much." She chokes, stumbling towards Dieter but he shakes his head, stepping away from her in shock.

You close your eyes in relief that she has admitted it. Now no one will think that you are somehow tricking Dieter. You sigh quietly and step forward, reaching for your alpha and placing a hand on his chest. “Since Omega Finder messed up, I’m sure they will give your money back,” you tell him, sure the company will face major backlash.

Dieter wraps his arm around your waist, “I don’t care about the money. They did end up helping me find my omega in the end.” He offers you a smile and leans in to kiss you softly. Polly sobs, throwing her veil down on the floor and she rushes down the aisle followed by her bridesmaids. Dieter caresses your cheek and inhales your scent, not tainted by chemicals. “Since the wedding is all set up…would you like to marry me?” He asks, “I know this isn’t what you picked out but I want to be joined to you in every way.”

“It is a little gaudy for my taste.” You admit with a small laugh. “More formal, but I don’t care about that.” You reach up and caress his cheek. “I’ll marry you now, alpha. I don’t want anything more than you.” You know that he can be immature and needy, but he is also kind and loving. The yearning in his eyes for you makes your heart melt.

Dieter grins, leaning in to kiss you once more until he pulls back and addresses the chattering crowd. “I know you all came here today expecting me to marry my omega and plans have changed but the reason for you all coming here today hasn’t changed. I am going to marry my omega. If anyone wishes to leave, please do it now because in five minutes, this gorgeous creature will be mine in the eyes of the state of California.”

You turn towards dieter as everyone starts to chatter amongst themselves. You know people will talk, and leave the wedding. Mostly Polly’s family and friends but a lot of people will stay merely to be curious. “I know it’s not a wedding dress, but this is okay?” You ask, gesturing to your outfit.

"You look fucking gorgeous. You always do. I know that I didn't treat you the best and I - I have learned a lot of lessons from this faux mating. You have always been gorgeous and I noticed but I was terrified to lose the best woman I've ever known. You are an incredible assistant and I didn't want to overstep and lose you so I never mentioned that I thought you were gorgeous and smart and funny and so, so sexy." He rambles slightly, unsure now that the drama is over.

You laugh at how ridiculous you both have been. “And I didn’t think you ever even looked at me that way.” You admit, smiling broadly. “I was afraid that you would be disappointed I am your omega, so when I found out, I didn’t say anything. I have always thought you are sweet, goofy, funny.” You promise. “But I also believe that you are a good alpha. You strive to not dominate, but you still have so much strength. It’s sexy, you’re sexy, but you know that.”

Dieter flushes slightly at your words and he reaches for your hand, bringing your wrist to his nose so he can breathe you in. “Fuck, you smell good. I bet you taste delicious.” He murmurs, kissing your pulse. The wedding planner, frazzled, comes over with a wedding license for you to sign. You should have your passport but Dieter can pull strings.

You sign your name eagerly, unable to believe that this is happening. You had thought you would have to watch your alpha marry someone else. Watching as Dieter signs it too and hands it back to the wedding planner. “Let’s get married!” He shouts, making the crowd of wedding attendees laugh. You wish you had put on your shoes, but it doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters but you and Dieter bonding and mating.

The officiant settles everyone down and you and Dieter hold hands as he begins his speech, modified for this new twist. "I gotta say I have never done a mating ceremony like this." He chuckles and the crowd laughs. Dieter only has eyes for you, his focus on you as he repeats the vows and when the officiant asks for the rings, Dieter shakes his head. "I don't want her to have that ring." He says, gesturing to the gaudy ring Polly picked out. He reaches up to take his necklace off, a small delicate ring looped through it. "This was my mother's. I want you to have it. I'll get you a proper ring later." He promises, sliding the ring onto your finger.

“It’s beautiful, Dee.” You promise, knowing that while it may not be flashy, its sentimental value makes it priceless. Instantly falling in love with it. You bring his hand up and kiss his knuckles, “I will keep it safe for our son or daughter to have one day.”

His grin is blinding and he kisses the back of your hand. You slide the ring he picked out onto his finger and moments later, the officiant declares you husband and wife. Dieter wastes no time surging forward to press his lips to yours.

Dieter’s lips pressed to yours makes every nerve in your body light up. Feeling like electricity is coursing through your body and you cling to him while the audience starts to clap and cheer for you. You don’t even care that the entire thing is being televised, just that you are where you belong.

Dieter pulls back and grabs your hand, guiding you down the aisle and you are still barefooted. When you are alone in the hall, he grabs your waist and presses you against the wall, his mouth descending upon yours once again.

Your hand curls around his neck as you drag him impossibly close. Moaning when his tongue slides into your mouth and tangles with yours. It’s completely overwhelming and beautiful. Feeling his cock harden against your hip, you whimper as you imagine actually taking him, your alpha, for the first time. “We have- the reception.” You pull away to remind him breathlessly.

He sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “Shit. Let’s - let’s have a dance. Have some cake. Then I want to take my beautiful wife to bed.” He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. He’s excited, his cock throbbing, but he has to be patient. “And I want us to take photos for our kids.”

You can’t believe that Dieter is talking about kids. You’ve never known him to do that, but maybe it’s different with you, his omega. “We won’t stay too long.” You promise. “They can party without us, while we do our own kind of celebrating.”

Dieter smirks, “I like the way you think, baby.” He kisses you again just as the wedding planner comes over to usher you over for photos. You pose with Dieter, knowing these photos will be splashed over every magazine and social media page but you take them with your future in mind. After the photos are done, you and Dieter enter the reception hall to loud cheers and he guides you onto the floor for your first dance. “Don’t worry. I told the wedding planner to make sure the song was changed.” He and Polly didn’t have a song so he let her pick it but now he’s picked out the first dance. “When I get older, losing my hair.” The Beatles begins to play and you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck and he starts to sing along.

You smile as Dieter coos off key to the lyrics of the song. Not caring about that at all, but the sentiment behind the song. “I love you.” You admit quietly. “I’ve always cared about you, always liked you, but when I found out you were my mate?” You shrug slightly. “I couldn’t help but fall in love with you.”

“Even with the chaos I embody?” He asks softly, swaying you to the song. “I was a mess. An asshole. Fucked whatever I fancied and took any drug I wanted. I don’t want that anymore. Well, maybe weed and the occasional pill but it’s not what I want to live like. I want you. When I sought out the agency, I wanted to settle down, to find my mate, and I found her. I’m all in.” He promises, “all in baby.”

All in. You know that he means that. His eyes are full of excitement and you reach up to brush your fingers through his hair. “I’m all in too. I still want to work, to be your assistant if you’ll let me.” You know he’s hired someone else, but you liked organizing his life.

Dieter nods, knowing he’s selfish but he doesn’t want to find another assistant when you know everything down to his bowel movement schedule. “I don’t want you to leave me alone at work.” He confesses, sliding his hands along your back. “I love you.” He murmurs, pecking your lips when the song ends and the crowd applauds. “You hungry, ‘mega?” He asks, holding your hand.

It feels good to know that he is an alpha that will take care of your needs when you have taken care of him for so long. “I think we should eat.” You admit softly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone and I’m sure that I will go into heat during our honeymoon.”

Dieter holds your chair out at the head table so you can sit down together. He takes his seat moments later and reaches for your hand. “I’ll look after you. No matter what. Tonight-” His hand finds your neck, “I want to make you as mine. My ring on your finger. My mark on your neck. My cum inside of you. My omega.” He growls softly, his dark eyes flashing with possession.

His fingers press against your scent gland and you whine submissively. “Yes alpha.” You agree, slightly breathless at the thought. “I’m- I’m not on anything.” You confess quietly. “No suppressants, no birth control. I stopped them when you fired me.”

Dieter inhales deeply, loving your scent, untainted, and he nods, “that’s okay. I- I’m ready for a child if it happens. Are you?” He asks, “if not, I have condoms.” He says, not wanting you to get pregnant if you’re not ready.

“I want to feel your knot inside me. Just you.” You admit. “No barriers between us.” You don’t mind the idea of Dieter knocking you up the first time you have sex with your mate. It would actually be a really sweet little story for your personal lives.

Dieter offers you that soft, love struck smile that has appeared with the knowledge that you are his omega. “Good.” He murmurs, caressing your cheek just as the food arrives. “Now, eat omega. You’re gonna need it.” He winks at you and digs into his own food.

You hum as people come up to congratulate DIeter while you eat, most of them not even knowing who you are. Your phone is in your car and you know your family will have heard the news. You will have to have a reception with them or something to make up for the spur of the moment wedding.

Dieter knows he needs to speak to your parents after today to explain himself and he hopes your father doesn’t hate him. After you finish eating, you are invited to cut the cake. “I know you didn’t choose any of this, baby. We can have another bonding ceremony.” He promises, “another wedding where you can pick everything.”

“I don’t care about these things.” You admit with a small shrug of your shoulders. “We can do something small, that is more our speed.” You know Dieter would have chosen none of this himself either. Leaning in, you press your lips to his. “All that matters is that we are together. And happy.”

Dieter hums, pecking his lips against yours, “I love you.” He murmurs, knowing it’s true. He didn’t realize it before today but you’ve always been special to him. “You want to bail? They can enjoy the party.” He smirks, kissing your jaw.

You know that you should probably stay, the cameras are still floating through the crowds, the reporters are interviewing any and everyone to get their reactions to the change of plans when it comes to Dieter and it's honestly very on point for him. You grin, pulling away and nodding. "Let's go."

Dieter takes your hand, guiding you towards the back of the room and you giggle as he drags you out of the emergency fire exit door. He chuckles as you both rush outside. You still are barefooted, and he escorts you to the car that was going to take him and Penny back to his house. Dieter opens the passenger door to help you inside before he gets in, the driver off somewhere but the keys are in the ignition. “Let’s go.” He winks, turning the engine and putting the car in drive.

You should be surprised by Dieter basically stealing his own car, but you’re not. Giggling as he speeds off, you know it’s been caught on camera, another crazy story for today. Right now, you just want to be with Dieter. “Is Polly going to be at the house?” You ask suddenly, not wanting a tearful apology or confrontation with the other woman. You don’t care to ever see her again.

Dieter shakes his head, “no. She won’t be at the house.” He promises, “and if she is, I’ll call the police.” He reaches for your hand, caressing his mother’s ring that he placed on your finger.

“Okay.” You nod. “If you had, I was going to suggest my apartment.” You tell him. “I know it’s not as fancy as your house in Sherman Oaks.”

Dieter snorts, "fancy? Like a goddamn status symbol. That's all it is. My apartment when I first moved here had mold. It was bad. We can buy another home if you want? Have you pick it out?" He suggests, "I know a lot of shit has happened in that house."

“Why don’t we figure that out after our honeymoon?” You are thrilled that he is so open to making you comfortable but his past doesn’t bother you. “I don’t mind you having a history, Dee. I know all of it, hell, I witnessed most of it.” You snort. “It’s in the past. That’s the important thing.”

Dieter nods, bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it and he loves your scent, breathing you in. It's unfiltered and he realizes that Polly didn't smell this good, it was impossible. He drives back to his house, pulling up on the drive in no time and he cuts the engine after putting the car in park. "Your abode, Mrs. Bravo." He declares after he opens your door.

“Mrs. Bravo.” You hum as he helps you out of the car. “I think I like the sound of that.” You admit, looking down at your bare feet again and laughing. “I can’t believe that I married one of the most famous men with no shoes on.”

Dieter chuckles, "I like it. Didn't I tell you about my foot fetish?" He jokes, taking your hand to guide you into the house. You've been in here a million times but it feels different right now. The reality of finding the person he is meant to be with settles on his chest and he inhales deeply. The door is locked behind him and he steps closer, tenderly cupping your cheeks. "My beautiful omega." He murmurs, leaning in to press his lips to yours.

“Alpha.” You murmur softly against his mouth, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and bringing him closer. Now you get to experience what so many others have giggled and gossiped about. But it’s more than that. It’s mating with your Alpha. “I want-“ you push away slightly so you can think. “I want to suck your cock.” You admit breathlessly. “I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like.”

He groans, having imagined it himself if he’s being honest. High and jerking off while thinking about your mouth wrapped around his cock. “Fuck baby. I want to taste you. Want to claim you as mine for the whole fucking world to see.” He admits, kissing along your jaw. “I’m yours. You want my cock? It’s yours.” He promises against your skin.

You tilt your head. Moaning softly when he nips your skin. “I want to be in your bed.” You tell him. “Our bed, where I’ll make a nest.” You have been feeling the need to make a nest, but without your alpha, there wasn’t a point. You’ve never liked being in one by yourself.

He groans, sliding his hands down to squeeze your ass through your pretty dress. “Our bed.” He murmurs, sliding his hands lower to grab your thighs. He lifts you up into his arms and groans when you wrap your legs around his waist and his hard cock presses against your core. “Want you in our bed.” He groans, carrying you through the house to his bedroom.

You love the show of strength. Despite whining about working out for roles and how it doesn’t fit into his life, Dieter is surprisingly strong. Which, it shouldn’t surprise you, honestly. He’s carried plenty of women around during scenes. You kiss along his smooth jaw, surprised he shaved. “Do you like your facial hair like this?” You ask as you kiss, inhaling his own intoxicating scent.

“Fuck no.” He admits, “Polly wanted me to shave it. I hate it. Makes my wrinkles show more.” He confesses as he lays you down on the bed, hovering over you and he shrugs off the suit jacket.

“I like your wrinkles.” You admit shamelessly. “You’ve gotten hotter as you’ve gotten older. Aging like a fine wine.” You tease, biting your lip. “My own Harrison Ford. You can’t deny he has been handsome right through until old age.”

Dieter snorts, “I’ll take your word for it, baby.” He reaches for the hem of your dress. “Do you want to get naked and get your nest ready?” He asks, wanting you to be comfortable this first time.

“Of course.” You don’t have any issue getting naked with him, he’s your alpha. Any insecurities you might have had with anyone else seemingly melts away in the face of this being your biological mate. You pull the dress off of you and reach for your strapless bra, ready to reveal yourself to him.

Dieter sits back, watching you strip off, and his cock is throbbing in his tight pants. He reaches for to unbutton them to release some pressure but his dark eyes are hungry as they take you in. “Fuck, omega, you’re so gorgeous.” He murmurs, “so fucking gorgeous.”

You’ve heard those words before, but they are more potent coming from the alpha who is yours. Making you whine in pleasure as you lift your hips to peel your panties down your thighs. “You’re gorgeous, alpha.” You tell him. “I want to see you. All of you.” It’s not like you’ve never seen Dieter naked. You couldn’t possibly be this man’s assistant for so many years without catching sight of him one or fifty times. This time is different, this time he’s stripping off for you. “Please.”

He nods, shifting off of the bed to take off the restrictive bow tie and he tosses it to the floor before he starts to unbutton his shirt. His eyes take in the sight of your body as he shrugs off his shirt, kicking off his shoes, and he shoves his pants down, hooking his fingers in his boxers to push them down too. “Fuck. Nothing compares to this.” He declares even though nothing has happened yet. It just feels right. He covers your body with his and presses his lips to yours.

You shudder in pleasure, your hands immediately starting to map his body as they roam over his hot skin. The arousal and need pouring off him and mixed with his scent. “Fuck.” You whine, closing your eyes as he kisses down your throat and presses his tongue to your scent gland. “Never felt like this.” You gasp out.

He groans, scraping his teeth over your pulse, “never.” Dieter murmurs, kissing down your clavicle until he is sliding his tongue along the swell of your breast. He cups your breast, lifting it so he can take your nipple into his mouth. His other hand squeezing your other breast.

“Dee!” You arch your back into his touch, thighs shifting apart to let him settle between them. Rubbing your foot up and down his leg as you grind against the hard cock pressing into your skin. “Yes baby, fuck, you- you’re a tit man, aren’t you?”

“I’m an everything man when it comes to my omega.” He murmurs against your skin, switching to your other breast. His hand slides down to squeeze your thigh, lifting it so he can press his cock against your folds. You’re not ready for him yet but the wetness that coats his skin makes him groan into your flesh.

You’ve seen Dieter beg for sex, to be completely debauched and utterly whiny for attention. This man right now is completely in charge. Overwhelming your senses on a mission to touch and learn every part of you. He’s steady and sure in a way that makes you even wetter as he suckles at your breasts and squeezes your flesh. Making you squirm for more underneath him. “Deeee.”

He sucks and bites until your nipples are puffy and stiff and he continues his exploration of your body, kissing down your stomach. His heart hammers in his chest when he gets to your belly, knowing that one day, you’ll be carrying his child. He pushes your legs further apart and gets his first look at your pussy. “Fuck.” He hisses, leaning in to press his nose to your folds, breathing in your heady scent. “How the fuck have I lived without this?” He grumbles and slides his tongue through your folds, groaning at your tangy taste.

You whine his name loudly, your entire body trembling at the first touch of his tongue. You know that Dieter is talented, you’ve heard the rumors. He’s a dick and sometimes selfish, but he makes up for it with his skills. Closing your eyes, you let him do whatever he wants to your body.

He squeezes your thighs, lifting one onto his shoulder so he can push his tongue into your pussy, groaning when you reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair. He loves the way you tug on it and he presses his nose to your clit, wanting to hear you moan his name again.

“Grow it out again.” You beg, tugging on his hair again when he gives you such beautiful sounds. You love his hair a little longer and it’s going to be your favorite thing to tangle your fingers in when you are knotted together with him. “Oh fuck, Dee.” You moan. “I can’t believe you are eating my pussy. I’ve thought about this so much.” You confess breathlessly. “I want to suck your cock too. Feel you at the back of my throat.”

His cock presses against the mattress, leaking pre-cum from the thought of you sucking his cock. He pulls back for a second, his chin shiny with your slick, and his fingers slide inside of your tight pussy. “I’ll grow it out again.” He promises, “and you can have whatever you want, omega. Whatever you fucking want.” He promises then leans down to wrap his lips around your clit.

Your wail of pleasure is loud, unrestrained. Free to be however you want with Dieter, you know he loves the praise and you give it to him so willingly. His thick fingers feel so good, stretching out your walls and you know his knot will feel even better when he’s finally inside you. “Oh fuck, oh fuck Dieter, baby, my alpha.”

He loves hearing you call him Alpha. A designation that not many believed he had. Apparently he gives off “omega” energy because he’s whiny but that’s not accurate. He might be demanding but his mother always raised him to be spoiled, giving him whatever he wanted. He never had to command anyone to give him anything. He groans and curls his fingers, loving the praise, and he sucks harder on your clit, wanting more.

On and on, the moans and praises pour out of your mouth as he works you up. Feeling high off the endorphins, you wonder if this is what Dieter is chasing with his pills. Your body pulls taunt, a clear warning that you are about to cum. Making him growl into your folds and press his fingers against that spot inside you that makes you instantly break. “Dieter!” You cry out, thighs shaking around his head as you unravel.

He works you through it, reveling in the first orgasm he’s given his omega. He pumps his fingers until you’re pushing on his head so he presses kisses to your thighs, waiting until you relax around his digits. “So fucking beautiful, omega.” He murmurs, withdrawing his fingers and he wraps them around his cock as he shifts to his knees between your legs, needing to release some pressure.

His chin is slick with your juices and you love the way his short curls stick up in all directions. The smell of need and desire is thick between you and he has never smelled more delicious. “Knot me.” You beg, spreading your thighs wider. “Alpha…I need your knot inside me. I want you to mark me. Mate me so the rest of the world knows I’m yours.”

Dieter nods, his heart pounding in his chest and his aching at the thought of finally getting to have you like this. He shifts to hover over you, bracing himself on one arm as he guides his cock to your dripping entrance, positioning himself there, he starts to slowly push inside of you. His eyes fixed on yours, he inhales sharply at how you feel squeezing his cock.

Eyes blowing wide, you feel everything. Every ridge of his cock scraps against your sensitive walls, your entire body leaping in delight that your Alpha has slipped inside you. Making you moan loudly as he pushes in inch by inch. “Alpha….Dieter….oh fuck, it’s so good. I’ve never felt like this before.” You’ve had sex, alphas and betas alike but it’s never been this good before.

Dieter can’t even speak. His heart feels like it’s about to pound out of his chest and he can’t believe he has you like this. His omega, his mate, beneath him and taking his cock. It’s more than he could’ve ever asked for. He chokes and leans down to press his lips to yours, his cock twitching inside of you.

When he kisses you, it’s like you’ve become ravenous. Kissing him back passionately and feeling like you can’t get enough of him. Wrapping your legs around his waist and grinding up to make him push even deeper inside you. His cock hits your cervix and it’s the most pleasurable sharp stab you’ve ever experienced. Almost painful, but so incredible at the same time, making you gasp into his mouth around his tongue.

He pants into your mouth, the kiss is sloppy but unbelievably sexy to him. He slides his tongue against yours, his hand squeezing your thigh as you cling to him. His other hand finds yours, the ring that proclaims you as his on your finger and soon, you’ll bear his mark on your neck. He rocks into you as slow as he can manage but it’s hard when he’s so overwhelmed.

“Fuck.” You pant, every thrust filling you so completely that tears prick your eyes and you are blown away by the emotions that rocket through you. “I love you.” You whimper, tilting your head and exposing your scent gland to his teeth. Submitting to him completely.

He feels the alpha part of himself take over, a growl escaping his lips as he leans closer to scrap his teeth along your scent gland. This is something he never felt the need to do with Polly, figured it was something he’d feel when they were married but right now, he doesn’t care about the ring on your finger, he only cares about primally making you his. “I love you.” He declares and sinks his teeth in, claiming you as his omega forever.

You cry out, fingers digging into his shoulders as the pain rushes through you, along with the heat of being claimed. You had heard it is a moment that completely possess you, but you hadn’t believed it. Now that it’s happening, all you can think about is Dieter, your alpha, and his claim on you. His teeth buried in your gland, you start to cum around his cock.

He groans against your flesh, “you’re fucking incredible.” He says as he laps at your new bite and he loves the way you grip his cock inside of you. He can feel his knot swelling now and it’s harder to thrust into you but he presses his lips to yours.

Your nails dig into his back, whining when you feel the pressure of his knot start to fill you. “Oh god, fuck, please.” You beg. “Knot me. Fuck I want it, I want it so badly, baby. Please alpha, I want to take it.” Your hips rock up, eager to take the thick knot inside you, locking you together while he floods your womb with his seed. “Fuck, Dee!”

His grunts fill the bedroom, sweat beading on his brow and he roars when he cums, his knot locking in place inside of you while he paints your walls with hot seed. “Fuckkk.” He roars, eyes squeezed shut as the most intense orgasm he’s ever experienced hits him hard.

He shudders and shakes above you, looking amazing as he fills you with a flood of warm cum. Making you moan again, biting your lip at the sensation and you clench down around the thick knot that is firmly embedded inside you. The final proof that you are an omega, his omega. You knew it all along, that he hadn’t knotted her, but there’s a sweet relief in proving to him that it was because Polly wasn’t an omega and not because there was something wrong with him. “Dee, fuck, that’s-“ you pant softly, smiling at the sensation.

He’s relieved he knotted you. He was worried that he’d taken too many drugs and he couldn’t knot anyone. He pants, leaning in to kiss along your jaw, “I love you, baby. Mine. My omega.” He coos, wanting to comfort you in this moment.

“Fuck.” You whimper and smile as he kisses your skin. “My alpha. You’re so good. Did you like it?” You ask, stroking his back lovingly while he settles into your embrace.

He sighs, shifting onto his back, mindful of your connection, so you can lay on his chest. His hand slides along your spine, a smile on his face. “I loved it. I loved you. Never ever felt like that before.” He confesses, “I’m so fucking happy to came to me before I married that psycho. My brave omega.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead.

“I couldn’t let you do it without knowing the truth.” You murmur softly. “If you didn’t believe me, rejected me, I could live with that. As long as you knew what you were doing. She was taking that chance away.” Your fingers trace a tattoo and you sigh softly. “But I’m happy you believed me.”

He hums, “me too. I know I haven’t been the best boss in the past but I promise you that I will be the best Alpha. I wanted to settle down and I wanted to find my mate. I found her and I want to be the best husband I can be.” He reveals, “I love you. So much.” He murmurs, “I just didn’t realize how much until today.”

“You’re a good man.” You remind him softly, just like you have many times before when he’s been wallowing in self pity. “You will be an amazing alpha, I know it.”

****

“So you have been married to your beautiful wife for ten years. The whole world watched as you exposed Polly who we hear is now married to another beta. Yet, you still got your happy ending with your omega.” The interviewer says and Dieter nods, offering the interviewer a smile, “she’s incredible. My rock. I couldn’t have won my Oscars without her.” Dieter confesses with affection. 

“Knock knock.” You knock on the door to the family room where Dieter is being interviewed. “I’m sorry to interrupt. The kids wanted to see their daddy.” You confess and your three children rush over to Dieter. Aged three, six, and nine. 

“Daddy! Guess what?” His eldest son clambers over Dieter and he gestures for you to come and sit down. 

“What, my love?” He asks his son while his six year old daughter wraps her arms around his neck. Your three year old son struggles to get onto the sofa so you pick him up while your eldest tells Dieter about his dinosaur project at school. 

“The perfect family.” The interviewer coos and Dieter nods, leaning over to kiss your lips. 

“We aren’t perfect but it’s my family and to me, they are perfect.” Dieter declares on camera. The interview is aired a week later during prime time and Polly watches while she sits beside her husband who tricked her into believing he was a rich man but it’s his mom who had money. She scoffs, turning the TV off while her husband snores, head tilted back against the sofa. She got her karma and you got your alpha, much to Dieter’s delight. He wanted to find his omega and he did, he just didn’t realize she had been in front of him the entire time.

[punkshort]

Can You Remember Who You Were?

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: When you struggle to stop obsessing about the handsome stranger you met at a coffee shop who ghosted you after one date, fate eventually forces you back together.

Warnings: language, possessive behavior, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, oral sex (f!receiving), omegaverse dynamics, alcohol consumption, minor physical altercation

WC: 9.1K

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: For @burntheedges's Roll a Trope challenge I got reincarnation. I also mixed in some a/b/o stuff because I've always wanted to give it a try. Go easy on me, I'm nervous about this one - hope you enjoy. And thank you to @txtattoostark for holding my hand.

When you first met, it was happenstance. An awkward run-in at your favorite coffee shop where he thought your coffee was his until he read your name written on the cup aloud and had the grace to look bashful when he handed it over. A moment later, his own order was ready and you caught the name Dave scrawled on the side. He smiled and raised his cup to you before taking a sip and wishing you a good day before disappearing out onto the busy street.

It was a simple interaction. Nothing terribly special. But you couldn't stop thinking about him the rest of the day.

Dave, Dave, Dave.

Dave, with the soft, gentle brown eyes. Dave, with the chiseled, clean shaven jaw and strong, angular nose. Dave, with the broad shoulders that strained underneath his blue button-down shirt. Dave, with the bare ring finger that still had a visible, yet faded, tan line.

Something about him stuck with you. You felt drawn to him. Connected, somehow, yet you didn't even know him.

After the weekend passed, you managed to clear him from your mind, if only because you stayed as busy as possible. You cleaned your apartment top to bottom. You went to a concert for a band you didn't even like with your friends. You even called your parents and suffered through another phone call where you heard about your brother and sister's lives, how their respective children were, how your brother got a promotion and your sister was thinking of having a third baby. The unspoken question hung heavy in the air, your parents already knowing the answer and predicting your negative reaction by now, so it remained unsaid. But it still stung to be compared to your siblings in that way. Your parents had a skewed notion that maybe it would encourage you to try a little harder if they kept pointing out your brother's success and your sister's natural instinct for motherhood, but it only made you draw into yourself tighter.

Once it was Monday again, you dragged yourself to work. You were so tired from your overly busy weekend that you didn't even think about Dave when you entered the coffee shop. You stood in line, zoning out and in desperate need of caffeine when the door swung open and shut behind you and the sound of dress shoes tapping on the hardwood floors neared.

"Promise not to steal your coffee again."

You swiveled around, eyes wide and heart rattling in your chest when you fixed your gaze on none other than Dave. And much to your dismay, he looked even better than you remembered.

"Oh," you squeaked, subconsciously fixing your hair and glancing around to buy yourself a moment to recover. "Hi again. Two days in a row, what are the odds?" you chuckled dryly, hoping you didn't sound as stupid as you felt. Dave shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled down at you.

"Could've been four but I guess you don't come here on the weekends."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you struggled to respond. Dave took that to mean he caused you offense and quickly rectified it, not wanting to sound like a stalker.

"I'm just kidding."

You laughed and rubbed the scar on the back of your neck, your head spinning. Was he just kidding? Did he come here over the weekend? And if he did, was he hoping to run into you?

"I work around the corner," you explained, telling him the company you worked for. Your mother would have scolded you for telling a stranger where you worked, especially one who might have just admitted to coming to the coffee shop in the hopes of running into you, but you knew it was safe. You didn't know how you knew, you just knew.

Dave nodded and was about to speak when the barista ushered you forward so you could place your order. Before you had a chance to pull out your wallet, Dave leaned over you to tell the barista you were together and added his order before handing over his card.

You couldn't stop the shudder that went down your spine when you heard him speak so close to you, the vibrations of his voice sending a current of electricity through you. At this distance, you could practically smell him, too, and it wasn't just his cologne. It was something else that you couldn't identify but had you weak in the knees.

To be polite, you turned to deny his offer, but he spoke first. And when he did, telling you not to argue and he was happy to do it, his voice deepened and the timber alone caused your body to weaken and your eyes cast down obediently.

"Do you work around here, too?" you asked once you got your coffees and you thanked him for the third time.

"No, I don't."

He walked towards the door and held it open for you, a fourth thank you slipping from your lips. You got the feeling he liked hearing you so thankful and sweet. He smiled every time you said it.

"What brings you out this way, then? Do you live nearby? I don't think I've seen you here before."

Dave walked you to the corner where a shiny, black BMW sat parked.

"Let's just say there's something about the atmosphere I like at this place."

Your face flushed and you took a sip from your coffee, burning your tongue in the process, while you tried to think of something to say. Then you heard the bells from a nearby church and you were stricken with panic.

"Oh, shit! It's already eight?" you asked, yanking your phone out to check the time. You were already late and you still had a ten minute walk ahead of you.

"Come on, get in," Dave said, holding open the passenger side door. "I'll drop you off. You said it's just down the street?"

You contemplated his offer for about three seconds before nodding and jumping into his car. In only took him about two minutes to drop you off in front of your building but you couldn't stop thanking him the entire way, something that continued to delight him.

The rest of the week followed the same pattern. You showed up at your usual time and mysteriously, Dave would appear within a few minutes. He would insist on buying your coffee and on nice days, he would walk you to work. If it was rainy or windy, he would drive you.

By Friday he finally asked for your number and by Saturday you were getting ready for your first date.

Shannon was your age but she always seemed to be so much wiser and grounded. She had a very different view on life, but she was sweet and fun and you got along the moment you met. While you were used to going out to bars on a Friday night, Shannon preferred to stay in and read about horoscopes, take stock of her essential oils, do some light yoga, or scour eBay for rare crystals. You thought she was a hippie, she preferred spiritually inclined.

Regardless of your differences, she still was a wonderful person and was always there for you. Whether you were going through a bad breakup or upset about something your mom said, she would always be there to listen, rub your back, and kindly suggest a way to unblock your chakra.

You had a handful of other friends who would gladly come over and drink wine while you tried on outfits and help with your makeup, but that wasn't what you needed. You had something else entirely on your mind and you couldn't think of anyone else who might be able to help besides Shannon.

"I've been having dreams."

Shannon raised an eyebrow so far up, it got lost under her curly blonde bangs and thick rimmed glasses.

"What sort of dreams?"

You sighed and sat down on the edge of your bed, your dress partially zipped. "About Dave. And me. And it's just... strange."

Shannon shifted a bit on your mattress, her clunky jade bracelets knocking together in the process. "Go on."

"It feels like a reoccurring dream, but it's not exactly the same. The feeling is the same, though."

"I see," she said thoughtfully. "And what are you doing in these dreams?"

Your face warmed up and you stared at the floor when you said, "Well, we're having sex. But it's not just sex. It's different. Like," you waved your hands in the air as you struggled to come up with an explanation. "I know this will sound crazy, but it feels like in my dreams, we have more of a connection. Like, a purpose or something? And in my dreams it feels so much more intense compared to other guys I've slept with."

"How so?"

You had to give her credit. Shannon was too kind to ever tease you.

"Intense like... if we don't fuck, I'll go certifiably insane."

"Oh," she said, nodding her head, completely unphased. "Interesting. It kind of sounds like something I've read about once before. Have you ever heard of -"

Your doorbell buzzed and you leapt off the bed. "Oh, my god! Zip me up! He's here!"

When you flung your front door open, Dave spun around with a smile, one which widened when his eyes drifted appreciatively up and down your frame.

"Hey," you said breathlessly, feeling that magnetic pull low in your belly again just at the mere sight of him.

"You look beautiful," he told you, and just as he was about to lean in and kiss your cheek, he spotted Shannon emerge from your bedroom behind you with a little wave.

"Oh, this is my friend, she was helping me get ready," you said, turning to introduce them while you grabbed a leather jacket and your purse.

"Have a great time, I'll lock up when I leave."

You both thanked her before heading outside towards Dave's car. His arm naturally found its place protectively around your waist and you practically glowed from his touch.

Dave picked a restaurant that you'd never heard of and when you walked inside, you quickly figured out why. It was easily the fanciest place you had ever eaten and if it wasn't for his reassuring touch or warm smile, you would have felt out of place. But once you sat down, the rest of the room melted away and it was just the two of you in your own little world. The entire time you both were leaning across the table, bodies pulling closer and closer on their own accord as you absorbed every little detail about each other. You learned Dave used to be in the military and now works as an operative in the CIA, something that should have intimidated you but it just made him more attractive. He was a protector, he knew how to handle himself and he was smart, qualities which turned you on and had you yearning for more.

When he admitted to being recently divorced, the hairs on your arm stood up and jealousy bloomed hot in your chest. The sudden idea of him with another partner unlocked something inside you that screamed mine, mine, mine.

By all accounts, your first date was perfect. There was never any lack of topics for conversation, you always felt perfectly at ease and safe, and it went by way too fast even though you were the last table to leave the restaurant.

But when he dropped you off and walked you to your door, something changed from that point forward. He kissed you, gently and sweetly at first, but when your lips brushed together for the very first time it set something on fire inside you that you couldn't ignore. You had no idea how it happened, but the next thing you knew he was pinning you up against your door, your wrists captured in each of his massive hands and held next to your head while his tongue licked aggressively into your mouth.

Then you released a little whimper, a little cry against his mouth and it nearly brought him to his knees. The needy sound reverberated through his entire being and had him forgetting who he was, where he was, what planet he was on because that little sound had his body and mind responding in a way he couldn't explain.

And it frightened him.

He pulled away and put some distance between you, palm dragging over his wet mouth, eyes hungrily devouring your wrecked state. Still leaning against the door, you panted heavily and stared at him through heavy lidded eyes.

He scratched at something invisible behind his ear and took a deep, steadying breath.

"I should go."

You frowned, still trying to catch your breath. "W-what? Was it something -"

Dave quickly shook his head and stepped further away.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," he promised, then turned on his heel, practically running back to his car while you stood there, completely dumbfounded.

As it turned out, you did not hear from him the following day. Nor did you see him at your coffee spot the entire fucking week. By Tuesday, after sending a few pathetic texts that went unanswered, you forced yourself to accept reality.

Dave ghosted you and you would never see him again.

It was just one date. You only knew him for a week but it felt like so much more and you couldn't help but be torn up about it.

On Tuesday night, you called Shannon to tell her. You did your best not to cry but she could hear it in your voice.

"It felt like such a strong connection, you know?" you said sadly, plucking at a loose thread on your sweater.

"Well, what do you think happened?"

You shrugged and tossed yourself backwards onto your bed. "I don't know. The date went great, he dropped me off at the front door, we were kissing and things were getting heated and then all of the sudden, just -" you snapped your fingers. "He had to leave. Said he would talk to me the next day and I never heard from him again."

You heard her hum on the other end and clink a spoon in her mug. "Suppose my silly theory was wrong, then."

"What theory?"

"The dreams you were having and the feelings you were describing sounded like something I've read in one of my books, I wondered if it were real."

One of her books. You rolled your eyes, knowing she had a very strange collection of reference material spanning from meditation and Hinduism to books about Karma and the Kama Sutra.

Even so, you humored her and let her continue.

"Do you believe in past lives?" she asked. You hid your scoff behind your hand and cleared your throat.

"Uh, can't say that I do."

"That's okay, I know it's a bit out there, but it sounds very much like you might have a connection with this man that supersedes this earthly plane. And what I mean is, you may be destined to be together."

"Like, soulmates?" you asked dubiously.

"Mmm, not exactly. What I'm thinking is a little more physical. I have a book that talks about reincarnation and the ability to imprint on another person to the degree where the link follows you throughout all your lives. If it's at all possible, you will always find each other. Although it's usually pretty rare..."

"What do you mean, if it's possible?"

Shannon flipped through some pages of a book, humming under her breath before she said, "Well, if one of you comes back as a bear and the other a human, odds are it won't be a happy reunion."

You couldn't help it, you had to laugh. Shannon wasn't offended. She knew you didn't mean any disrespect and her beliefs were a little more difficult for others to understand.

"Okay, thank you. I needed a reality check," you said with a smile. "I hear what you're saying: we just met and there's zero reason for me to be acting this way."

"No, that's not at all what I mean," Shannon replied. "I haven't actually known anyone personally who went through something like this, but I've read about this phenomenon online."

"Alright, this is getting a little too weird, even for me," you said, sitting up in bed.

"Just Google it!" Shannon told you before you finished your call. "Read what others have said and see if you can relate."

You promised her you would give it a try the next day but you never got around to it. Instead, you went back to moping and staring at your ignored texts to Dave for the rest of the week.

By the time Friday came, you were ready to blow off some steam, refusing to spend another night wasting away over some man who just happened to be an insanely good kisser and whose scent you couldn't erase from your memory.

You agreed to go out with a small group of girls after work. The alcohol buzzing in your veins and the loud music in the bar helped you forget about Dave, but when other men approached you to dance, you just couldn't do it. You politely turned them down and stayed with your co-workers, Dave's rejection still leaving its mark on you. You listened to them complain about a team lead they couldn't stand who got a promotion she didn't deserve and then, as they began to drink a little more, discussed the finer qualities of the cute guy in the mail room.

In retrospect, leaving by yourself when you became too tired wasn't the best choice. You had a longer walk back to your bus stop than usual and it was eerily quiet out, but you wrapped your arms around yourself and kept your head down. And it almost worked, too, until you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"Need a ride, pretty girl?"

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and you kept pushing forward after tossing a no, thanks over your shoulder.

"Don't need to be rude," the voice replied, now much closer. You glanced around nervously and didn't see another soul on the street. Only parked cars.

You moved faster but it wasn't good enough. A hand clasped onto your shoulder, grip firm and frightening, and fear shot through you. You broke out into a cold sweat when he pushed you against a building, caging you in and leering down at you, his sour breath poisoned by alcohol. You recognized him as someone from the bar but before you had a chance to process anything else, two massive hands dug into his shoulders and yanked him away in the blink of an eye.

You shirked away when you heard a fist meeting soft tissue, then the clattering of teeth and a pained groan. Your savior's voice growled threateningly, warning the man to get the fuck out of here before I put you in the goddamn hospital, then you heard the squeaking of shoes against concrete and hurried, retreating footsteps down the street.

You were scared. He could sense it. He could fucking smell it. It made his skin crawl and his stomach turn.

Dave's voice was so deep and gravelly, you didn't even recognize him. Not until he crouched in front of you on the street, his dark eyes filled with worry as they scanned your face for any injury did you realize it was even him. Tears welled up in your eyes and he cupped your face. He looked like he was in extreme pain as he watched your tears begin to fall. He then stood, scooping you up so he could carry you to a nearby parked car.

"I'm going to take you home," he said when he placed you gently in the front seat. You had about fifteen seconds to gather your thoughts while he hurried around to the other side of his car.

"Why are you here, Dave?" you asked when he turned his key in the ignition. He paused momentarily before putting his seatbelt on and merging onto the empty street.

"Right place, right time," he muttered. He was gripping the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles turned white. You watched him closely from the passenger seat, not believing him for one second but for some inexplicable reason, it didn't frighten you. In fact, you liked it. The idea of Dave being nearby, possibly watching you, made you feel safe and protected, although you hardly knew him.

You took a deep breath, about to muster up the courage to ask him why he had ignored you all week when you were suddenly overwhelmed with his scent. You couldn't describe it but it was a smell uniquely tied to him. You made a little noise in the back of your throat and squirmed in your seat, desperately trying to stay focused and present, but your body had other plans.

Dave's eyes shifted to you, his nostrils flaring at the way your legs rubbed together and your breath picked up and then he smelled it: the first scent of your arousal in the air. That was all it took for him to forget who he was and succumb to his baser instincts.

His cock throbbed painfully hard in his jeans and his molars were practically ground to dust by the time he arrived at your apartment. You fumbled with the seatbelt, desperate to disappear inside and pretend this embarrassing interaction never happened, but you weren't fast enough. Dave had gotten out of the car so quickly that he was already yanking your door open and violently pulling the seatbelt away from your waist. You blinked up at him as if you were trying to clear your vision and jumped out of the car.

Something felt wrong.

You had an ache between your legs that was growing impossible to ignore and your brain was a hazy, swirly mess being so close to his scent. Did someone spike your drink at the bar?

"Thanks," you whispered, chest rising and falling faster as you tried to drag in more air. Your skin was far too sensitive. All you could think about was getting inside before you tore your clothes off in the middle of the parking lot. "I'll, um, see you around, I guess."

He nodded, his neck and cheeks tinted pink as he stared down at you hungrily. "Wait," he croaked when you made a move to leave, eyes burning red hot into you. "Can we - can I explain - fuck," he winced, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to block your scent from his nostrils so he could take a second to fucking think. He felt like he was going insane and he had no idea why.

"You wanna come inside and explain why you haven't talked to me in a week?" you asked bitterly, your arousal temporarily forgotten. "Why you've been ignoring me? Why you made me feel terrible? I was out tonight trying to forget you, Dave. I was hoping it would be the first night all week I didn't cry, but it's too late for that."

He swallowed thickly, eyes all wide and filled with despair as he gazed down at you. "I made you cry?" he asked softly. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him that he failed, that he did the one fucking thing he shouldn't have done.

You huffed and crossed your arms before looking away. "You hurt my feelings, Dave," you mumbled.

His heart lurched in his chest and he took a step forward to gently cup your face. Despite your anger, you gazed up at him with glassy eyes and almost immediately melted into his touch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm so, so sorry. Will you let me explain?"

Reluctantly, you nodded and allowed him to trail after you to your front door.

You flicked the lights on in your kitchen and living room before turning around. Dave stood there looking too big in your average sized apartment, gaze drifting over your walls, your pictures, your plants, your life.

With a little distance, he could feel the clouds clearing and his senses returning, so he took a steadying breath before speaking.

"About last week," he began. You were in the middle of closing your curtains when you turned around to listen. "I didn't want to scare you, but something happened to me that night." You frowned, pulling the curtains closed the rest of the way and took a few steps towards him. Almost instantly he could smell you again, the wetness between your legs practically calling to him, and he quickly held up both hands so you would stop.

"You gotta stay over there," he warned. Hurt flickered over your face but you obeyed and stepped back until you were by the window again. After a moment, the air cleared enough so he could focus and he slowly dropped his hands back to his sides. He was so hard, it almost made him sick.

"I'm sorry," he said once again. "That's part of what I'm talking about. When you're close to me," he pursed his lips and dropped his chin to his chest while you patiently waited for him to continue. "When you're close to me, I can't fucking think straight. And I know it sounds dramatic," he chuckled, looking back up at you across the room. "I know it sounds like I'm making it up but I promise you, I'm not."

"I think I know what you mean," you said softly after a quiet moment. His eyebrows raised a bit, curious for you to elaborate. "It's like... your scent."

"Yes!" Dave exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "I don't understand it but you're giving off a scent and it's doing something to me. Something that frightens me."

You swallowed nervously and took a small step forward.

"Would you... hurt me?"

Dave's eyes went wide and he vigorously shook his head.

"No," he whispered, "never."

You took another step forward and his eyes flickered down to your feet.

"Then what would you do to me?"

His eyes slid shut and he crossed his arms over his chest. What wouldn't he do to you? He would bury his face between your legs until you screamed his name. He would stuff you full of his cock over and over, as many times as you could take it. He wanted to leave love bites all over your body so anyone looking at you would know you're his.

But that would be absurd. You just met and only had one date.

Without even needing to open his eyes, he knew you were closer. The thick smell of your slick filled the air, swirling around him, driving him to the brink of insanity until he was convinced the only cure would be to fuck you senseless.

"I feel it, too, Dave," you whispered, your hands coming up to pull lightly on his arms, unknotting them from their protective place over his chest. You nipped hesitantly at his neck, your lips puckering over his tanned skin, and he felt his resolve crumble.

"Fuck, what is this?" he breathed, his body pulling him forward. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. His mouth pressed into your hair, deeply breathing in your scent, then he dragged his mouth lower. His tongue flicked out to taste your skin, the burst of flavor - you - making his head swim the closer he got to the back of your neck. Before he reached the scar you kept hidden by your hair, he pulled back, gasping for air.

"Come with me," you said with heavy lidded eyes and wet, parted lips. He nodded and followed you, logic and reason fading with each step. He had never felt like this before. It felt like he was being driven by pure instinct, like some kind of animal.

Dave swallowed when you pulled your shirt over your head as you walked, your bare back teasing him with what he could not yet see. Then you worked on your pants, unbuttoning and shimmying out of them as you approached your bed. His cock strained against the metal zipper of his jeans, begging to be touched, begging to be buried deep inside your soaked cunt. And it was soaked. He could see your dampness darkening the fabric of your underwear when you bent forward.

Finally, you turned to face him wearing nothing but your panties and a nervous smile. A low groan escaped from the back of his throat while his gaze drifted slowly down your body, taking in every soft curve and slope while he began to unbutton his shirt.

"You're perfect," he said lowly, shrugging off his shirt before his hands found his belt. "I want you so fucking bad, sweetheart, it hurts. I want to make you mine, make you scream my name til it's the only word you ever remember. I want to fill you up so you're feeling me for days. Want to give you everything you could ever need. Then I want to do it all over again."

Your knees felt weak as you felt another wave of arousal spread through your stomach and between your legs. Shakily, you crawled onto the bed as Dave approached like a predator from the doorway, shedding his clothes and pinning you with an intense stare that, if it were anyone else, would make you nervous.

"You want all that?" he asked you. You were nodding but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the bulge straining in his boxers now that he stepped out of his pants. "Say it," he commanded, and something about his tone made your eyes snap up to his and your spine immediately straighten.

"Yes. I want it. I want you," you replied, then reached your arms out for him to join you. A pleased look passed across his face at your invitation as he kneeled on the bed with you, towering over you with his broad frame, making you feel so small.

He leaned forward with his hands brushing lightly over your shoulders and his lips parted as he admired you openly. Then he murmured, "Lay down and spread your legs," and you felt your stomach flip as you did what you were told.

Dave palmed himself through his boxers when his eyes locked onto the wet spot spreading in your underwear. His long fingers hooked around the fabric and pulled them down, slowly exposing yourself to him. You watched, squirming impatiently, as his eyes turned from brown to almost black when he took a deep breath and spread your legs wide into the bedding.

"I need you," you whimpered. Your skin felt like it was on fire and you were so aroused it almost fucking hurt but you were certain Dave would be able to fix it. You didn't know why or how, but you just knew.

"I know, baby," he said, shifting down so he laid between your legs, his angular nose nudging against your folds and his hot breath fanning over your leaking cunt. You shivered and whined but his big hands held you in place.

"I'm gonna take good care of you, don't worry," was the last thing he said before he placed a sweet kiss on your mound. Then he kissed you again except that time, his tongue flicked out, catching your clit, and the noise that came from your mouth was borderline embarrassing.

"God, you're so wet," he whispered in awe inbetween plunging his tongue in and out of your opening, reveling in the taste of your pussy. The way your scent had engulfed him made him feel insane and the only thing he wanted to do was pull more sweet noises from your lips.

There was no explaining that night. At least, not rationally. The two of you fell into something neither of you experienced before but somehow was all too familiar. You found yourself being far more submissive than you ever were with anybody else, like your body had taken over and knew just what to do. Anything Dave asked of you, you did it, trusting him implicitly.

It was a combination of your sobs and whimpers that drove him forward like an animal, unable to stop eating at your cunt until you came twice from his tongue. You finally had to tug on his hair to pull him away, your skin coated in a thin layer of sweat and chest heaving beneath him.

"Could smell you all fucking night," he admitted hoarsely, wiping his palm over his slick covered mouth. "Drove me crazy, couldn't stop thinking about it. Christ, I- I've never needed someone this badly, baby," he told you as he pushed his boxers off and gripped the base of his cock in his fist. "'M sorry, can't explain it-"

"I know," you croaked before hauling yourself up from the mattress. You moved towards him on your knees, legs still wobbly but you managed to hold yourself up. "I feel it, too. I don't want to leave this bed for a week," you murmured before pressing your lips against his and groaning at the taste of you on his mouth. Again, all you could think was mine, mine, mine. You were consumed by the thought, overwhelmed by the idea of Dave smelling like you so everybody would know he was yours.

Your tongue dove into his mouth greedily, a sentiment he easily returned. You dragged your fingers through his hair, down his neck, over his broad shoulders and down his soft stomach until you found his cock standing at attention between you.

"I- shit," Dave moaned when your lips nipped and sucked down his jaw until you found a tender spot behind his ear you seemed to like while your fist slowly pumped him up and down. "I don't have a condom, I didn't think... do you have any?"

You did, but you paused and thought about it. Even though you were on birth control, you still always used a condom, just to be extra safe. But the idea of having a barrier between you and Dave just felt wrong. You wanted to feel him bare, you needed it. So, you decided on a non-answer.

"I'm on birth control," you whispered, and Dave seemed just as relieved as you at the prospect of taking you raw. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the way you continued to suck and bite at the spot behind his ear while stroking his cock. He wanted to tell you there was a scar there, one he couldn't remember getting, but he was struggling to form a coherent thought.

When your teeth grazed his skin too harshly, he growled and bared his teeth like a goddamn animal, but not because it hurt. Because it felt good.

"Think you can take it, baby?" he rasped, fingers pressing into the softness of your hips.

"Mhmm," you hummed, finally tearing yourself away from his neck, proudly leaving a little red mark of your own before letting go of his cock and twisting around to fall onto all fours.

Dave moaned at the sight of you presenting yourself to him on a silver fucking platter before crawling forward.

He took hold of himself, all heavy and leaking, so he could notch at your entrance. He hummed a little, enjoying the way your warmth spread over his engorged tip, using it to spread your slick around to make it easier to first enter you.

Impatiently, you wiggled a little and tried to spear yourself on him, but he chuckled and grabbed your waist, making you still.

"Want it that bad?" he taunted, voice dropping low, the lust in his veins pumping hard and fast through every inch of his body.

"Yes," you whined, tilting your head back as if you were in pain. "Yes. Please, Dave, don't tease me."

And how could he deny you? He simply wasn't strong enough, his need for you so hot that it burned through his resolve in a matter of seconds.

His eyelids fluttered when his tip slipped past your folds, jaw dropped when he first pressed a few inches inside, face twisting and breath growing ragged when his hips finally came flush with your ass.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, blinking away the tears that suddenly burned his eyes. Shaky hands found your hips and he braced himself, taking a few deep breaths while he waited for your walls to relax and your whimpering to quiet down.

Dave swallowed and looked down, nearly coming apart right then and there at the sight.

"God, baby, you oughta see the way you stretch for me," he breathed, still staring down where you were connected. "That feel good? Hm? Talk to me," he pleaded before drawing back an inch just to watch more of your arousal get pushed out when he slid back inside.

"Yes," you hissed, "I'm so hot, Dave, it feels like I'm on fucking fire, please fucking move."

"Are you sure?" he asked, but his hips had already begun to rock into you without his permission. You nodded and let your eyes fall closed so you could focus on the way each one of his thrusts and grunts soothed the flames roaring inside you.

"Harder," you whispered, not even sure he heard it, but then a moment later his grip around you tightened and his hips snapped faster, the sounds of his skin slapping against your ass filling the room and making you dizzy.

You heard him whispering something to himself but you couldn't make it out. You craned your neck back, bleary eyes trying to find his but every forceful thrust of his hips jolted your entire body and sent you halfway up the bed just to have his massive hands drag you back down.

"Fuck it," he murmured before grabbing you by the shoulders and yanking you up so your back was pressed to his chest. You gasped in surprise and cried out at his relentless pace, never once missing a beat. One of your hands reached around to grab the hair on the back of his head, pulling him close so his mouth was directly next to your ear.

"So - fucking - tight. Want you so - fucking - bad," he whispered through clenched teeth. Both his arms circled around your middle in order to keep you steady, sweaty skin sticking to sweaty skin. You twisted your neck, seeking out his mouth so you could swallow down those words and have them echo like the beat of a drum inside you.

Your lips crashed together, messily licking and biting at one another while he grunted and growled, hammering into you with everything he had. The tip of his cock reached a spot deep within you that forced all the air from your lungs just to be followed by a sharp gasp. It was making you lightheaded, the persistent pattern - grunt, thrust, gasp, grunt, thrust, gasp - and then his hand traveled lower.

"Oh!" you cried out, your fingers slipping through the thick hair on the back of his head and body slumping a bit but he kept a firm hold around your ribs, still pressing you against his front while his fingers rubbed fast, precise circles over your clit.

Your thighs began to shake and your hips sunk lower, unable to keep yourself from giving into the pleasure mounting low in your belly. Your muscles fucking burned from the effort to stay upright, even with his help it was becoming impossible to do.

"Dave," you whimpered, eyes squeezed shut as your head came to rest on his shoulder. It was all you could remember to say, Dave, Dave, Dave. Just like he said. And it was perfect because that was all he wanted to hear.

"You're close," he murmured, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, fingers working expertly over your clit and hips still snapping tirelessly against your ass. You just nodded, slack jawed, as you focused on your release. So close. So fucking close, you wanted to say, but no words came out.

"Give it to me," he growled, voice sounding like a command. Your eyes flew open and a moment later, you came. You bore down on him, pussy clenching around his thick shaft still slamming inside you, in and out, in and out, while you wailed his name over and over until you grew weak and your muscles threatened to give out.

Dave made a pleased sound before pushing you forward onto the bed. You fell onto your forearms with a huff, still in a rosy haze from your orgasm. One hand gripped your hip, the other your shoulder, and he used you. He fucking used you to get himself off, slamming into you as hard as he liked, chasing his release, puffing and growling above you until he finally stilled and you felt his spend slowly fill you up.

"Fuck!" Dave groaned, gaze pinned to the way he spilled out of you when he pulled out. "Fucking beautiful, baby," he whispered hoarsely, still panting for breath as he continued to watch. You whined and your hips began to drop, so he collapsed next to you and tugged you against him, spooning you with his face pressed into your shoulder and his hands soothingly stroking any part of you he could reach.

"I'll... I'll get you something in a minute," he muttered, chest still heaving as he held you close. You just shook your head and closed your eyes.

"It's okay," you whispered softly.

There was so much you wanted to say, but fear held you back. You wanted to tell him how incredible it was, how you never came that hard before in your life, how amazing you felt now that he finally gave you what you needed.

Once his breathing evened out, he began to nose gently at your back. He trailed up through your hair, pushing it aside until his tongue found the skin on the back of your neck. It felt so good, melting in his arms and sharing in a warm glow while he bit and licked at the back of your neck. It didn't even strike you as an odd thing to do, the pair of you were too deep to recognize it.

With a sigh, you lifted his left hand from your stomach and examined his long fingers, your own slowly tracing his as he continued to mindlessly suck at your neck.

"What's the story here?" you asked bravely, tapping twice on the tan line of his ring finger. "You never really said much."

He grunted into your skin and forced himself to unlatch from your neck.

"Was married," he said simply. "Didn't work out."

You hummed and laced your fingers with his while he watched from over your shoulder. His cock twitched alive against your thigh when you wiggled in his grasp.

"Why?"

He shrugged, lips dragging over your shoulder. If someone had asked him that six months ago, he would have had a much more emotional reaction. Anger mixed with pain, most likely. But you had somehow managed to dwindle it down to a light shrug.

"Don't think it was just one thing," he admitted.

You nodded solemnly, thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles.

"Does it still hurt to talk about?" you asked him. You wished you knew more but you feared you might burst the perfect little bubble you had found yourselves in.

Dave smiled and, with his free hand, lifted your leg so your ankle rested on the outside of his knee.

"Not anymore," he said right before sinking back inside you.

It was the dreams that finally made you both snap out of the lust filled stupor you were lost in.

Dave had spent the night and entire next day with you, only giving yourselves enough time to eat and rest in between the countless times you found yourself impaled on his cock. It was sometime in the mid afternoon when you had fallen asleep on his chest that you awoke with a start, unable to shaky an eerie feeling.

"Dave?"

His eyes snapped open and found yours, looking slightly rattled, himself.

You breathed a sigh of relief and nuzzled into his bare chest. "I had such a weird dream."

"Me, too," he said, voice thick with sleep. He swiped a palm over his face before stretching both arms above his head. "What was yours about?"

You went on to tell him about the very vivid dream you had about him, although the man in your dreams didn't look like Dave nor did he have the same name, you just somehow knew it was him. With your face heating up, you glazed over the part where you fucked like animals in heat for a week straight and all together left out the end where you had a full blown family together, figuring it would be a bit too much and it would most definitely scare him off. But much to your surprise, he detailed a dream of his own that was so similar, it gave you goosebumps.

"Maybe we need to get out of this apartment for five fucking minutes," you joked, yet still couldn't shake the lingering feeling of familiarity.

After a few moments where you both remained quiet and lost in thought, Dave spoke again.

"There was something else."

You tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

"I think we had... a family."

Dave closed his eyes as if he too felt like saying it would be too much too fast, but you shot up excitedly in bed.

"We had kids in my dream, too," you confessed, and the both of you stared at one another in shock. "And this isn't the first time, either," you added. Embarrassment was the furthest thing from your mind now as the words came tumbling from your lips. "I had them before we even had our first date."

Dave's eyes went wide and he sat up, as well.

"Shit," he muttered, "me, too. Thought I was crazy."

"Maybe we are," you huffed, still in complete disbelief. Then you remembered what Shannon had said when you poured your heart out to her and your brow furrowed before digging in the sheets for your phone.

"What is it?" he asked as he watched you.

"My friend, the one you met the night we had our date," you said as you busily focused on your phone. "She knows a little about this stuff. She's a little strange but -"

"Let's go talk to her," he said before you even had to ask. You sent your text and looked around your room.

Could you really have known one another in a past life?

You weren't sure how you got there, but in just a few short days you found yourselves standing outside the old Victorian house of Talia Carter, a friend of Shannon's whom she recommended the minute she read your text about your shared dreams.

Talia, or 'Duchess' as she preferred to be called, claimed to be clairvoyant and promised she would be able to do readings on you both to find out if your hunch was right or if you were both just certifiably insane.

Despite all the evidence, you still had your doubts as you climbed the old wooden steps of her porch. Talia swung the door open, her bright red lipstick laid on thick and stretched into a wide smile framed by her very long, straight dark hair. But her smile faded almost instantly once she saw you and she gripped the doorframe for support, alarming you both. She quickly shook her head and refocused her gaze on you both before apologizing and ushering you inside.

You hesitated for a moment and glanced up at Dave.

"My friend Shannon called, I'm -"

"I know, sweetheart," she said as if it were clear as day. "I know exactly who you are."

Dave's hand fell to your lower back and he peered inside her house before determining she wasn't some kind of obvious psycho before nodding to you and taking your hand. Talia bit back a smile and she stepped aside, holding the door open wide for you both.

"If you would like to follow me, I have a study where I do my readings just off the kitchen. Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked over her shoulder, leading you past a dark cherry wooden dining room table and matching China cabinet, as well as countless green plants stuck on every flat surface.

"No, thank you," you said, gaze roaming around the room, temporarily stunned by the very unique Elizabethan style she chose. It seemed as though she liked her wallpaper dark and oriental rugs mismatched. The woodwork appeared to be all original, or at least it was made to look that way, and it was all meticulously cared for.

"I prefer to model my home after my own past life," she said when she caught you gawking at the beautiful wainscotting and then the glittery chandelier above her desk.

The two of you sunk down into a soft velvet sofa across from her.

"You remember your past life?" Dave asked, his hand falling to your knee, body curling protectively around you when he crossed a leg and leaned forward. Talia noticed but she didn't say a word. Not yet.

"Yes. I believe Shannon mentioned I preferred to go by Duchess," she explained as she pulled out some tarot cards as well as a few books from the built in bookshelf behind her. "I was the Duchess of Argyll and I still very much connect with that lifestyle, so I have tried to recreate it in my home."

"Well, you've done a beautiful job," you told her honestly. She paused and gave you a sweet smile before opening one of her books and flipping through the pages.

"You are very kind, thank you," she said, "but we are not here to talk about my past life. We are here to talk about yours."

You bit your lip and leaned closer to Dave. Without even looking up, she asked, "Hundreds of years ago, the human race was suffering and on the brink of going extinct. It's believed Mother Nature took over and created ranks among human beings in order to boost the population. Have you ever heard of Alphas and Omegas?"

You both frowned and shook your heads. When she found the page she wanted, she lit up and turned it around, pushing it across the desk so you could see.

"I could do a reading on you both, but it's simply not necessary," she said. You were about to lean forward to look at the page when you froze.

"Why?"

She grinned and sat back in her chair, looking at the two of you like she couldn't believe her eyes.

"I sensed it the moment I saw you. You were mates in a prior life," she replied. She pointed to Dave's hand on your knee. "You're very protective of her, yes?"

Dave shrugged and scooted closer to the edge of the sofa. "That isn't unusual."

"No, you're right," she said, then leaned forward to rest her elbows on her desk, lacing her fingers together. "But tell me, do you have any noticeable scars? Maybe ones you have trouble remembering how they came to be?"

Your hand immediately came up to rub the back of your neck and Dave noticed. Visions of him licking and biting in that very same spot swam in your memories and you glanced up at him once again, watching as he came to the same realization.

"How did you get that?" he asked you softly. Your eyes darted wildly back and forth between his before answering.

"My mom and dad always told me different stories, I'm not - I was never really sure."

Then you recalled how fixated you were on the spot behind his ear the first time you had sex and you lunged forward, brushing his hair out of the way with a gasp.

"Where did -"

"I don't know," he said immediately, the energy in the room shifting as you both stumbled into something inexplicable. "I grew up in an orphanage. No one was ever able to tell me."

Your eyes watered for a moment at the thought of a young Dave growing up scared and all alone, but you forced yourself to put it out of your mind for now. You turned back to Talia, who was watching you both with an unreadable expression.

You told her everything. You told her about your dreams, the extraordinary pull between you, the intensity and passion when you had sex, the hopelessness you felt when you thought he rejected you. And most importantly, the calm and secure feeling whenever he was near.

She gave the book a little nudge and you took it on your lap so the two of you could read, but you were hardly absorbing any of it. The words knot, glands, scent marking, heat, imprinting floated across the page while she spoke, explaining everything she knew. And as crazy as it all sounded, neither of you could deny the signs.

You stayed for over an hour, asking question after question. She explained how your scars were most likely remnants of the scent glands that each of you pierced, which bonded you forever as mates. How the dreams that you both had were memories of your past life and the unbreakable bond you shared was what drew you together. When you mentioned the way your body felt like it was on fire, skin hot to the touch, she explained in more detail about heats and ruts and how it was your body's response to finding one another.

When you finally stood to leave, exhausted and unable to think of another question, she refused to take Dave's money. When he tried to insist, she held up her hands and shook her head firmly.

"You have no idea how rare this is for someone like me. Meeting the two of you is an experience I will never forget."

She even let you take home the book you had still open on your lap, your minds racing as you tried to keep up with the whirlwind of information thrown at you.

When she walked you to the door, the sun dipping low in the sky already, she placed a hand on each one of your shoulders and looked at you both intently.

"Promise me you will not squander this gift," she said. "You have no idea how unusual it is for mates to find one another again. The odds are astronomical and yet here you are, reunited by a twist of fate."

You had no idea what to say. You looked up at Dave sheepishly and he smiled warmly at you before saying, "We promise."

Once back in his car, silence surrounding you even though your minds were buzzing with activity, he reached for your hand.

"Do you believe her?" he asked. You bit the inside of your cheek and stared straight ahead down her long driveway before slowly nodding and turning to face him.

"I think I do."

A big grin stretched across his face and he brought the back of your hand up to his lips. "I think I do, too."

You giggled and ran your fingers through your hair, a rush of adrenaline burning through your veins.

"Now what?" you asked him, letting him drop your hand so he could shift his car into drive.

But before he pressed on the gas, he gave you one final look and said, "I don't know, but whatever it is, we'll do it together."

[pastelpousay]

💘Love Birds🕊

Little Drabble I decided to make for not reason what so ever, look out for a Rayco Drabble cuz I’m very tempted.

Warnings: slight mentions of blood and wounds(??) (Not any angst it’s all fluff just a warning for you!!💗)

“You got little bit of a cut right here…,”

Hades stated as he held Rina’s face in his hands, brushing his thumb just over the small laceration on her lower lip.

He had been examining her face for a while now. The two of them had been just staring at each other, silently longing for the other as if they hadn’t been talking just moments prior. Now they were here, with Rina trapped between Hades arm that had been wrapped around her waist, and himself.

She had to admit she had never been this close to him in all the time they had been together— or anyone for that matter. The whole thing just made her heart skip beat. Seriously if the girl could blush she’d be the finest shade of scarlet right now.

“Oh, yes I know…I’m not bleeding am i?”

“No,” Hades said as his eyes still scanning over her lip before they headed back up to her chocolate eyes, in which he so adored. “Does it hurt?” He questioned.

“Only a little.”

“Want me to kiss it better?” A wide grin spread across his face, the same grin that made her heart skip a beat the first time they met. Rina couldn’t help but smile back, a strike of pain coming from the cut on her lip as she did, but she payed it no mind. It hurt but how could she care when she was looking up at the man— or god she loved so dearly, the god she wanted to spend the rest of her life with no matter how long, the person that looked at her in the most adoring way anyone ever could. how could she not smile?

“Don’t smile at me like that, unless you want me to fall in love you you again.” She responded, letting out a small giggle.

“Maybe I want that…” he said, moving his face a bit closer to hers, teasing her in a way.

“Hm,” Rina’s smile softened along with her gaze as she leaned in further, their lips finally meeting, with Rina throwing her arms around his neck. She swears every time they kissed it just made her heart feel like it was dancing on clouds, and all the thoughts in her head seemed to just disappear leaving her with an empty headed satisfaction just before he had pulled away.

‘Fuck!’

“Still hurt?”

“Yep.”

“Awe, my sweet starry eyed baby—“

“Don’t.”

“Lemme take care of you okay, baby? Okayyy?” Hades teased sarcastically as he began placing kisses all along her face. As much as she wanted to resist,

She knew she couldn’t complain. How could she after all?

[selfshipoliver]

your f/o would have protected you from whatever happened, by the way.

[magpiepills]

Once and Future

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f reader

Word count: 500

Summary: a short but dirty interlude with the pussy eating king, long may he reign.

Warnings: oral f receiving, fingering, Frankie’s curls

A word from the author: Oh nothing, just something I think @legendary-pink-dot might like. Little ode to the hair we all love.

They feel like silk. The smooth strands slip between your fingers, twisting and tangling, warm in your hands.

Frankie knows you like it when his curls are wild are unkempt, a rebellion against his early military days or short cropped hair, he lets it grow.

You love the way it spills out from under his trusty blue cap, mocha, hickory, java, chocolate, walnut, and now hints of silver beginning to thread through Frankie’s hair. Despite the tell-tale sign of his aging, his locks are still thick, still called for you to run your fingers through and tug gently, or scratch lightly at his scalp when you kissed him. He purred when you did, and groaned when you buried your nose in his hair and pressed your body close to his. The smell of his sweat and his shampoo were as good as any cologne.

Frankie tightened his arms around you and maneuvered you to your back. He pulled your hands from his hair and pressed them against the kitchen table he laid you out on and kissed you soundly, devouring your mouth, sucking his way down your neck and across your chest, fighting to tug your tshirt up so he could mouth at your breasts and lave his tongue wetly across your perking nipples.

He squeezed your hips as he kissed down your belly to the waistband of your jeans. He made a frustrated sound as he fumbled with the button and the zipper, his thick fingers rushed and clumsy, but he had them undone and pulled down your thighs before you could stop him or do it yourself. He was too overcome with need to stop, anyway.

He forgot about your sneakers, knocking together now as your ankles crossed and your knees were pressed up and open for him. Without hesitation Frankie buried his face into your pussy. He relished it, the taste, the smell, the way your heat radiated against his face. Sucking and licking, he ate you. He felt crazed, greedy, hungry for more and more.

Beneath him, you squirmed, your body seeking his out, blooming for him, open and welcoming. When two rough fingers ease inside, you clench, soaking him, making him moan.

Until now you’d kept your hands where he put them, he made you want to be obedient for him, but as you felt the heat beginning to spread over your hips and thighs and belly, you grabbed his hair in your fists, keeping him right where you needed him, lips and tongue working diligently against your clit as his thick fingers pumped in and out, a warning of the stretch his cock would be.

Your hips and knees jerked as your orgasm rippled through you, like a seismic wave of pleasure, leaving you panting in its wake.

Frankie licked you carefully, kissing your tender pussy until your body relaxed. He took your hands from his sweat damp curls once more, and told you “turn over.”

[kittysl4t]

Miguel O'Hara x Hispanic reader

Fem civilian reader

Thinking of miguel being all tough and 'manly' but when he's near you, he gets all shy and nervous. 😔💗

+18 | Sub¡Dom relationship | voyeurism | vibrator | miguel being a cutey | Male Orgasm | Humiliation kink | Praise kink | nsfw

(English is not my first language)

Gif not mine

Miguel is a man that has a really good reputation, serious, manly, tough giant hero that whoever dares to cross his path with a slight different option to his, is done.

People close to his job environment were kinda scare of him, but tried not to make it to obvious, in case he gets more furious about it.

That scary, angry expression of his was immediately gone once he sees you, smiling at him, his gaze changes to a more relaxed one. He was finally home.

You didn't get up from the sofa and just lift your finger, you can see his face light up and rapidly goes towards you, getting on his knees immediately, kissing your hand.

'¿Que tal estás, amor?' (How are you, love?) You asked, pleased by the quickly submission of your giant boyfriend.

You rub his cheek cutely, and touch his soft wavy hair 'Bien, estaba un poco estresado por el trabajo, but contigo a mi lado im much better' (Good, i was a little stressed 'cause work, but w you by my side im much better).

Miguel never considered himself a submissive men. All the other relationships he has been in before, were pretty normal, but with you he is a different men, he feels like he only exists to please you, not only sexually, of course.

You want something? He give it to you no matter what, no matter the money, the time. You want to fuck him in the middle of his work?, You have it.

No complaints, no 'buts' , no 'i can't' .

You love going outside w him, watch him begin all tough and demanding to the people around him.

So funny seeing him squirm and change his expression when you set the vibrator to the max, you can't help but laugh at him when he gives those pleading eyes.

Poor thing, he knows you won't stop, you're gonna make him cum in front of his employees. :(

He gets all flustered, but he never changes his grumpy face.

'i have to go for a moment i'll be right back' you see how he quickly runs to the restroom. You grab your phone, and immediately send him a message '¿Quien te dio permiso a irte? Brat' (Who gave permission to go? Brat)

'Please, mommy, not infront of them'

'salte, miguel' (get out, Miguel)

And as the good boy he is, he obeys.

A couple of minutes of your teasing is all it takes for him to cum in front of everyone.

Surprisingly no one noticed were their scary boss weird behavior comes from and they tried to ignored it.

'Good boy' you whisper closer to his now very warm face

He looks at you flustered, proud and surprised of his good behaviour and acting skills.

------------------------------------- • 🍒

Love y'all, if there's any bad grammar please let me know 😭. (Requests are open)

[melstinybrain]

*sirius and james arguing*

james: *takes off his glasses*

sirius: EVEN IF HE- what are you doing?

james: I don't want to see you right now.