#leo knot

[witchhazelevesque]

Another reason Leo and Nico should have interacted more in HoH: Leo made a whole ass mechanical hoist system to unload the Athena Parthenos from the ship, but Nico was left to tie some ropes together to lug the statue around.

You're telling me Leo couldn't have put together something way better and more secure for one of the most important tasks left in the quest? When he'd been trying to figure out the statue since bringing it aboard. When he was one of the ones to see the camp in ruins in his dreams and getting the statue there safely would prevent this. When he had to make himself a personal helicopter with a rope halter earlier in the book to save his life in like two minutes. Logically, he would have seen his job with the statue through to the end.

[viveela]

Wanted to draw Yuichi w his ears loose but it turned into this lol

[gornackeaterofworlds]

Vampire Honor boy 🫶

Alt below bc I liked how it looked when I didn't finish rendering

[1eos]

idk why whenever i hang out w my crush i feel compelled to send u an anon ask about it. but i was doing my hair this week and i was STILL doing it by the time he came over to hang out and then he ended up braiding the last section and he did a good job 😭 i kind of feel like thats 20th base

oughhhhhhhhhhh that's so cute. and you're right braids are 20th base, doing a fresh retwist is 30th base, helping cut a bob is 35th base and putting on the wig so you can style it is a grand slam 😌

[amari-omaru]

[conradrasputin]

[httpsserene]

𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 - 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

˖♡ - ̗̀ ⇢ saw this tt about how these two toddlers shared their dad's notoriously rough bed head and this post when i opened tumblr last night and had to write smth for it! sorry, for the baby content 💀 i'll get back to writing y'alls requests now xxx

the careful messiness of brunette curls has been charles’s signature hairstyle for ages. it suits him, and when paired with his dimples and green eyes—it’s no wonder why every italian and monegasque prays for his success on sundays. well, maybe bleeding rosso corsa and winning two championships driving the famed red car are the proper reasons.

if only they knew that the artful styling of his curls is nowhere to be found after he sleeps. when he wakes, his hair is in absolute disarray—the deep brown ringlets are clumped together as they stick straight upwards and yet they manage to point in every direction possible.

when you first moved in with charles, you convinced him to buy a satin pillowcase to combat the bed head. it didn’t help, and neither did the bonnets you tried to have him wear. no matter if the ties were knotted, buttoned, or even velcro-strapped tightly, the bonnet would end up by the foot of the bed and his hair was in it’s usual disordered state by the early morning hours.

so, your morning routine begins with taming charles’s severe case of bed head. he awakens slowly as your fingertips gently untangle the deep brown ringlets, moaning lowly and nudging his head into your hand like a large cat when your nails glide along his scalp. you carefully guide each curl back into their assigned positions, tutting disapprovingly at the one strand that never seems to stay in it’s place.

charles’s chest shakes with a chuckle at your slight irritation and he shifts to meet your eyes, tenderly directing your hands away from his now orderly hair to his lips, pressing kisses to your fingertips before pulling you forward to cuddle into his chest.

you didn’t expect to have to deal with more than one head of messy hair. unfortunately, it seems like your daughter inherited her father’s bed head.

your mornings now consist of charles climbing out of bed at the first crackle of noise through the baby monitor, rushing to scoop the 9-month-old from her nursery and have her join the two of you in bed. he crosses the doorway with your daughter cradled to his bare chest and leo yipping at his feet—she stares up at at him, a perfect reflection of the sea green pools of his eyes, the absence of a bonnet, and the chaotic sprawl of his brunette curls. you’ve never been bothered with the fact that she’s an exact replica of her father, as some tried to tease that your genes didn’t do more than deepen her complexion. however, you always joke back that it means that she’s been blessed to be as beautiful as charles is.

she coos and babbles up at her father and he dutifully responds in french as if he understands her baby gibberish. he sits in bed with her on his lap and she beams, her little arms and grabby hands reaching towards you. you smile back widely, stealing her from his lap and greeting your babygirl with a flurry of kisses pressed all over her cute little face. her giggles ring through the air as you pull backwards to watch her laugh and, there’s another trait she shares with her father; deep dimples decorate her chubby cheeks and you can’t help but press your thumb into them with adoration.

charles picks up his first baby, plopping the mini dachshund in bed, and leo bounds forward to press his own kisses to your daughter’s socked feet.

addressing charles’s wild bed head will have to wait as you settle her back in his lap. you rest your head on his shoulder, apologizing for interrupting the clearly important conversation the two were having. you start fixing the jumbled ringlets on her scalp with the softest touch of your digits and she nuzzles up into your hand the same way her father does. he continues from were he left off, asking your daughter if she thinks a one-stop strategy is too ambitious for the next race and she babbles back to him in reply.

charles nods in agreement, promising her that regardless of a one-stop or two-stop, he’ll bring back his third championship trophy for her.

© httpsserene - do not repost. photos in header from pinterest.

[astroidology]

Astro notes.

random astrology things I’ve noticed.

don’t try to start an argument with a virgo mars!!!! these individuals never really care enough to argue UNLESS you’re saying something that they know it’s wrong. they won’t let you get away with it. they will explain you in detail why you’re wrong in a passive aggressive way. making you feel really dumb lol they love being right

mercury in pisces. most find it hard to express through words to say exactly how they feel so instead they do it through music, songs,, art, sketches, some hand-made gifts. any kind of act of love. and they love those kind of things too. they find it more meaningful.

leo risings usually have a good sense of style. they want to look nice, wear nice clothes, nice jewelry. they tend to be super shy and quiet too, they have a hard time opening up to people. which is weird bc they have alot of charisma and people usually gravitate towards them, mostly because they’re fun to be around. but sometimes they care too much about what people think of them and that can stop them from being themselves.

moon in capricorn are so hard on themselves. whenever I think of this placement, it reminds me of that knot on your throat when you’re trying so hard not to cry. just holding back the tears. that’s them. all the time. and it’s not just tears they’re holding back, it’s also the words they never say when they’re really upset, completely avoiding any kind of interaction. or the good news they don’t ever share because they’re too afraid it’ll go away. or just anything that they keep to themselves bc they don’t want to bother anyone else. They’re also really intuitive!!! I feel like Capricorn is not known to be intuitive like that but it’s the fact that they can read people very well, they see right through people and they’re always ready for what’s going to come next. this placement can definitely make someone much quieter than usual, no matter the sun sign.

libra risings are extremely social and likable!!! this people love the attention and you definitely notice them from afar. they’re so good at fitting in. they have such grace to them, which is such a Libra thing but having this sign as your rising, it’s the way you come across to other people. They really try to stay out of drama and usually the ones to be cool with everything and everyone. they adapt very easily to their environment which can be good or bad. very easily influenced. they also like aesthetics a lot. visuals mean a lot to them. they want to make sure they look good at all times and they’re big on words meaning they like compliments a lottt!!! they look better with neutral and pastel colors. physically they tend to have longer faces and a fuller bottom lip from what I noticed, usually leaner body type. even if they’re not super fit, they have a good body distribution.

gemini risings just like any other air sign, also love to interact with people (sometimes) but they tend to be more reserved. they only open up once they comfortable then they don’t ever stop talking lol they’re super bubbly and curious. and can often be super observant. you can kinda know they don’t like you if they don’t talk you a lot lol because they truly loveee to talk. it’s a little difficult to spot them right away because they tend to blend in with other people but once they open up, you can see the their Gemini coming out. they tend to have small facial features, they can even be shorter in height. and there’s a more reserved look to them, kinda like virgo. but unlike virgo risings, gemini risings look somewhat more approachable and relaxed.

mars in pisces easily catches feelings because they won’t ever stop thinking about that one person. Most of the time they don’t even know the person that well but it’s just how they feel. And they tend to have a very sweet approach to love, lots of emotions, kinda like not being able to fck around with other people once they’re in love. They also feel like they have to vocalize it to get over it. They can’t really move on easily, no matter how fucked up the situation is.

mercury in any fire sign (leo/aries/sagittarius) are always having to tell people it’s just a jokeeee lol they tend to be very direct and their type of humor is usually so stupid, it sounds like their making fun of everyone but it’s also usually their love language. they love when people match their energy, they feel free to say anything and they lovee ittt!! another thing is If they don’t fck with you, they won’t even bother to talk to you, they might even talk sht about you or make little comments like that, they need to make it lol

moon in pisces struggles a lot to open up. it’s such a weird thing because they wear their heart in their sleeve so everyone knows they’re not doing well, people notice there’s something off, you can even see it in their face and eyes, but a moon in pisces will never be able to fully talk about it. it’s almost like talking about it makes it real and they don’t want any negative feelings. We all know they live in their own dream world, where it’s safe and peaceful and happy. and it’s all good until reality hits. And they hate it. they want to crawl back in bed, fall asleep for days. listen to some loud music and just close their eyes. They need to shut their minds off so it’s very common for them to develop escape mechanisms. can be really bad habits that make them feel so good. they really need to keep their mind clear and out of any negativity because everything they think about too much becomes real. a lot of popular music artists atm have this placement and you can kinda see how well they blend in with whatever is going on. you can see their genuine interests and opinions in their songs and performances.

moon in the 5th house ppl are creative!!! whatever their hobby is, they make sure it’s done right and they’re usually so good at it. their delivery it’s amazing. they express how they feel in such a dramatic way.

venus in aquarius is an interesting placement. it reminds me a lot of venus in virgo and I do think they have a lot of things in common but I still think venus in aquarius is more complex than that. They need reassurance in any way possible because it makes them feel safe but they are too afraid to committing to someone and having to emotionally depend on someone. And it’s not that they’re disloyal, if anything they’re one of the most loyal placements. they love imperfections, they love the real and raw. they understand there’s more to people and they accept people. but they’re afraid of it. they don’t think someone will be able to love their imperfections, so as soon as they start feeling too much, they take a couple steps back. they suddenly need some space. or at least that’s what they think they need. they don’t like to detach but they do it when they feel unsafe or unloved. and it’s always something that they can’t even understand themselves.

[boofeine]

Just read your ‘what makes svt vocal in bed’ and I started giggling and kicking my feet at Cheol’s. Would love to see you go into further detail because I just KNOW that man loves seeing the claw marks you leave on his back and arms 🙂‍↕️

WARNINGS: mdni, (small) pain kink, marking, scratching, pet name, swearing, mentions of cumming inside, rough sex, raw sex

As a leo, this man just loves the little reminders you let on his skin. Seungcheol definitely wakes up the next morning, smiling and shaking his head to himself, staring at his naked reflection on the bathroom mirror, with the red marks of your scratches all over his back and arms.

The type to see your new nails done first thing. His light touch coming to your hands, so he can bring it close to his face and take a good look at the sharp and perfectly shaped nails. "Beautiful" He praises, caressing your fingers with his thumb, a smirk forming on his lips as he looks up to your face instead "They will make such beautiful marks" He says, letting a kiss to your hand before letting it go from his grip.

Seungcheol loves to go restless on you. His thrusts deep and fast as you squirm under him. He goes down to reach even further inside, your leg up on his arm as his breath fans on the nap of your neck with his animalistic pace while you moan on his ear. Your nails digging up on his back, going all the way down to his hips. The burning feeling of the scratch on his skin making him groan, his thrusts haulting with how much that affects him. "Fuck, I love when you do this... Shit! It feels so fucking good" he confesses.

He loves to edge you, just so he can see your desesparate state that includes tugging his arms and pulling his neck harshly, like you just need to find ground on something. Your pussy aching to cum, clenching around him so much with the needy moans of his name. His eyes rolling back when your legs come around his waist, caging him in between your legs, your nails drowning on his shoulders "cheol, please, i need to cum" you beg and how can he say no? A grunt leaving his lips and the same high coming to him, his balls tightening and breath pacing.

Seungcheol always want you under him, because he can't help but be addicted to the feeling of you cumming and gripping his biceps with so much force that has him going insane. But he also likes when he has you from behind, your head aligned with his shoulders as he fucks you. His dick gets so impossibly hard by the sight of your ass bouncing with his bucks. The way your knuckles turn white from handing tightly his thighs under you. Cry out moans filling the room as your back arch and the same familiar knot form on your stomach "Fuck! Cheol... so- goooo -o... -d... aaaah!" you stutter in between moans and his thrusts that makes your body shake. His hoarsy voice taking over "cum, pretty. let it go for me" he hums. Your nails pressing his skin like it was just sheets. The grip pushing the sides of his ass to keep fucking you as you feel your high approaching. "Shiiiiit" He swears under his breath. Your body stopping just to let it all out seconds after as you cum and make a mess on your inner thighs, his cock and balls. His eyes shutting and head lowering with a low moan as his load empty inside your cunt.

The rare times you get the chance to have him under you, he can also enjoy the view. The way your boobs bounce while you roll your hips on him. The way you arch your back and dig your nails to his abs when he starts to meet up your thrusts. He's so obsessed with the sight of the line of your neck and clavicle when you moan out with your head thrown back. You're so desesparate picking up the pace, not even realizing how you're going down to just beneath his core with your sharp claws, low groans coming out from him as you're too preoccupied on chasing your own high over his cock to even mind. He gets himself running laps underneath you. You know He's enjoying it, too.

[faith-forgxtten-land]

Come to Bed | Donatello

this started with the idea of seducing donnie into healthy sleeping patterns and then just. spiralled from there. i didn't really have a specific iteration in mind but reading it back, it definitely fits bayverse most, i think, so that's what i'll categorise it under!

warnings: NSFW, swearing, general filthiness? gender neutral reader, everyone is 18+!!

summary: there is only one way to get donnie to come to bed (two if you count blackmail)

word count: 2411

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It’s nearly 3am and your eyelids feel heavy, eyes glassy and beginning to ache just a little, and Donnie is still not in bed. You look at the empty space beside you, cold and untouched, and kick the covers off your bare legs. The air is cool, goosebumps raising the moment you abandon the comfort of bed, and you almost regret getting up as your feet hit the freezing floor.

Donnie is so lucky you love him and care for his health.

He's exactly where you'd left him hours before, sitting hunched over a desk in his lab, and you wonder briefly if turtles with their shells can suffer the same complications as humans with poor posture. Perhaps you'll force him to join you and Mikey for your bi-weekly yoga sessions. “Donnie?”

The terrapin doesn't so much as flinch, instead burying his face further into a screen that is already way too close to his face. Oh, his prescription is definitely going to need updating soon, you think amusedly. You clear your throat, attempting your best grumpy Raph impersonation. “Oi, four-eyes.”

Now Donnie does flinch, beak nearly crashing into his monitor, glasses slipping as he salvages his precious technology from being assaulted by his face and spinning in his seat to glower at whoever dared disturb him. He relaxes when he realises it's just you, shooting you a scowl that's devoid of any real heat. “You need to stop doing that voice, it's creepy.”

You grin at him, noting the exact moment he registers what you're wearing – or, rather, what you're not wearing. His eyes go wide and his lips part, scowl melting like ice doused in salt. He swallows thickly. “You're meant to be a ninja,” you tease, stepping slowly into his space and letting his hands fall to your waist before they curl around your back as he pulls you close, palms flattening against your spine. “You can't hear when one measly human is behind you?”

“You are so mean to me,” Donnie says instead of answering.

“We both know you like it. Besides,” you look down at your naked skin, his own eyes following your pointed gaze eagerly. “I think I'm being pretty kind, actually. Someone was meant to come to bed three hours ago and ravish me, but apparently, I'm not more interesting than,” you peer over his shoulder as best you can, squinting at the tiny squiggles. Lips pursed, you look at your boyfriend flatly, not bothering to finish your sentence.

“I can explain.”

“World of Warcraft? Really, Donatello?”

He winces at the full name. “I wasn’t playing for long,” he defends himself. “I’ve been looking over some things Leo asked for since this morning, I was just taking a break.”

“Taking a break means coming to bed and not staring at a screen for even longer.” Softer, you add, “I’ve been waiting for you for hours.”

You run your hands up the bumpy skin of his muscled arms, over scars and rough tissue that you’ve pressed kisses to countless times, to rest upon his shoulders. A small part of you is resentful, but the larger, kinder part of you is concerned; his eyes are bloodshot to the extreme, and exhaustion is etched deep into the lines of his face. You dig your nails in and massage a little roughly, feeling those worried knots and doing your best to soothe them with gentle palms.

It hits him then, just exactly what he’d missed out on by getting caught up, and his shoulders sag under the tender weight of your caress, twitchy energy that can keep him up for days deserting him instantly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly.

You smile at him, fond and warm, one hand trailing upwards to cup his jaw. “It’s okay.” His skin is something you’ll never get tired of touching, you think, as you rub your thumb over the swell of his cheek. You pinch him a little, coy and mean the way you know he loves, before soothing it with a whisper of a kiss when he hisses playfully. “Although, you’ll have to make it up to me.”

“And what is my punishment?” he asks dryly, guilt pushed aside to indulge in your teasing as you lean closer to hide your smirk in the crook of his neck.

“You’ll be in bed by 11 p.m. sharp every night for the next week.” You can tell an objection is on the tip of his tongue, and you fix your teeth along his throat in warning. “I’ve already cleared everything with Splinter and Leo.” 

Donnie sighs both in pleasure and in resignation. “Are you trying to seduce me into having healthy sleeping patterns?”

You start to kiss his neck, soft grazes of your lips against his scaled skin. “Maybe. Is it working?”

“Well—”

“If the answer isn’t yes, I’ll be very offended and I’ll be forced to dump you,” you add airily, tongue flicking leisurely over his rapid pulse. “You're incredibly lucky I haven't already for ditching me for World of fucking Warcraft.”

“Oh, blackmail too. Lucky me,” Donnie mutters, but it’s full of mirth and he doesn't push his luck any further.

You grin against his skin, and you grin even wider when he starts as your teeth scrape along the column of his throat. His hands have a bruising grip on your hips, and you bite down harder just to feel his grip tighten.

“You’re such a tease,” he whines, unable to stop himself bucking up into you. His breathing has turned to panting, short and desperate gasps that make heat curl in your stomach, and you trail your nails down the keratin of his plastron slowly.

“You love it,” you murmur coyly, fingers brushing against the elastic of his waistband mischievously. “And you deserve it.”

Donnie curses loudly, head falling back as you pull on that elastic just to let it snap back against him. His pants are soaking, and you feel that familiar rush of smug satisfaction as you slot your knee between his thighs. It does terrible things to your ego seeing him like this; it makes you drunk and dizzy seeing him drenched and needy for you, and you groan under your breath as he grinds against you. 

“Please,” he whimpers.

You hum as casually as you can. “Please what?”

“Fuck, please, I need you—” He cuts himself off with a loud cry of your name as you slide two fingers past his waistband and into his dripping cloaca.

“Keep going.”

He’s quick to turn into a blubbering mess, drool running down his chin and words slurring as he babbles and begs you to continue finger-fucking him. “Don’t stop, please—yes, yes, right there, there, fuck—”

Your fingers pump in and out, scissoring inside him at a harsh pace you know he likes. He’s sopping wet but that doesn’t stop the tiny spikes of pain mixing deliriously with pleasure as you stretch him wide without warning. You can feel his slick coating your hand, running down your skin and over your knuckles, and he only gushes more when you add a third digit.

“Faster, faster,” he chants shakily, almost sobbing when you slow instead. 

“You’re so tight, baby,” you purr. “I wouldn’t wanna hurt you.”

He’s definitely sobbing now. “I can take it, please, please.”

“Oh?” You curl your fingers and fuck him harder and faster, just the way he wants. His cock is there, thick and heavy and ready to drop, and he shudders as you brush softly against it.

His voice is choked as he calls your name again. "Gonna drop, please–”

Your laugh is light and a little cruel and it makes him wail, the sound overflowing with need and desperation. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh god,” Donnie gasps as your fingers rub along his length still tucked inside, a fresh wave of slick trickling down to your wrist.

“I would’ve been kind,” you tell him nonchalantly, kissing his temple and huffing another laugh when he can’t stop his hips from grinding into you, body begging you to bury your fingers deeper inside him. “But you’ve been such a bad boy.”

He drops with a guttural groan followed by a pathetic whimper, gasping apologies feebly.

You sigh and pull your hand back, your resolve faltering just a little when Donnie whines and cries louder at the action. “You’re being very bad tonight, baby.”

He’s still wearing his pants and you roll your lips to hide a smile as he tugs them down frantically, his cock finally free in the air. His hands grip the arms of his chair so hard that you swear you hear them creak, desperate to touch himself but not wanting to disobey you any further. It’s a bit late to play innocent and good now, and you shoot him an unimpressed look that makes his jaw clench. “Please,” Donnie breathes.

Your hand is still soaked, and you watch him watch you as you raise your fingers to your lips, sticky tendrils trembling as you rub your fingertips together before parting them slowly. Eyes fixed on his, you glide your tongue over his slick, sucking gently and exhaling quietly at the flavour that blooms over your tastebuds. The arms of the chair are definitely creaking now, and you smile coyly as his cock twitches.

“Please.”

As much as you love teasing him into a pathetic frenzy, you remember his weary eyes and decide to put him out of his misery. There’ll be plenty of time to punish Donnie the way he deserves later – lots of edging and whining and begging and very little relief. For now, you’ll give him what he wants.

You kneel between his legs, coquettish as you glance up at him through your lashes; he’s working his jaw, teeth clenched and eyes darting wildly as he barely holds himself together. Grasping his hard cock in your hand, slick and heavy, you begin to pump slowly.

The chirps and churrs that escape him are whining and full of ecstasy, his eyes fluttering as you squeeze your palms around his thick length, hands twisting with an obscene squelch at every stroke. The lab is quiet apart from the wet pumping and his throaty groans, and you wonder if his moaning will be loud enough to wake the others. It wouldn’t surprise you, and the thought makes your hand move faster as you rub your thumb over the sensitive head of his cock.

Donnie can’t stop the stutter of his hips, head falling back. “Fuck.” He swears louder as your lips suckle his tip, your name a rasping prayer spilling from his mouth. You flick your tongue, tasting the slightly bitter flavour of his precum and just how soaked he is, evidence of what you do to him coating your face, and he cries noisily when you suddenly take another few inches into your mouth and swallow around him. He’s hitting the back of your throat, and he feels like he’s about to faint from how tight and warm you feel.

A wave of embarrassment hits him as you pull back and smirk, his head still pressed against your flirtatious smile while you continue to work him with your hands. “Please,” he begs for what feels like the hundredth time that night.

“You’re so good at begging,” you praise, eyes sparkling when it makes him moan lewdly. Oh, that definitely woke someone up. He’s back to bucking his hips and because you’re so kind, you let him dictate the pace as you continue pumping.

“So close,” he breathes shakily. “I’m so close, please.”

“Please, what?”

His eyes roll back, and the arms of his chair finally give way, crumbling under his crushing grip as impressions of his hands mould into the metal. Donnie doesn’t stop rocking and whimpering. “Please let me come.”

You kiss the head of his cock once more, delighting in the way he tremors at the whisper of touch. “Be a good boy and come for me, Donatello.”

There’s nothing Donnie loves more than being good for you and he shows this by coming undone the second his name leaves your lips, body jolting and convulsing like he's been struck by lightning as you continue to milk his cock while his orgasm wracks through him. Your face is completely covered, ropes of his come painting your skin as he groans pitifully, the sound agonised and mewling. 

It’s almost silent for a few moments, the only noises are Donnie’s wheezing pants and whimpers of oversensitivity, and you watch him quietly. He’s so beautiful like this, blissed out, stress a stranger rather than a constant companion, and you wish you could both stay like this.

The moment is over too soon as the terrapin manages to open his eyes blearily, although they nearly shut again in dizzying satisfaction when he catches sight of your come-smeared cheeks. It’s dripping down your chin, threatening to spill down your neck and to your chest, and a part of you wants to leave it, relishing in the way Donnie is entirely transfixed, but you scoop what you can on your fingers and bring the sticky threads to your mouth instead.

Donnie’s lips part and his breath hitches and it’s your turn to shut your eyes in pleasure, eyes rolling and unable to stop a soft groan as you lick and swallow what he’s given you. “Mean,” he accuses again when you finally open your eyes, and you grin at how faint he sounds.

“Just for you,” you agree and he churrs instinctively, flushing as you snicker. He’s so cute, you think fondly, letting him reach out and grasp you closer, seeking comfort. And so easy.

“I think I need that nap now,” Donnie tells you weakly, and you huff another laugh against his sweaty skin, tasting salt and nuzzling further into him. 

You press a loving kiss to his shoulder and reluctantly pull back. “Shower then bed, come on.” His legs are shaky, and you purse your lips to stop from chuckling as he stumbles like a newborn lamb, begrudgingly relenting to leaning against you. “Poor Bambi,” you tease, brushing your lips against his plastron in a loving caress when he grumbles playfully. 

Hopefully, no one has been awoken by your night-time activities and, if they have, you hope they’re not up and roaming because you’d really rather not have to bump into any of Donnie’s family with his come still coating your face.

[adispit]

The Aftermath

Alpha rival king x alpha m!reader

A mini part 2 of The Crown!

Warnings: dubcon, handjob, possessive Leo

note: yeah this isn’t really a smut centered piece more centered on the story also I didn’t beta read this so if there’s errors yeah 😭

Something was wrong. Your nape ached with a searing intensity, and your fangs felt inexplicably dull. The air around you reeked of something unmistakable���alpha. Jolting awake, your entire body ached with a deep, lingering pain. Wait a minute, this wasn’t your bed. Where were you?! These luxurious sheets were also something you couldn’t afford…even as a royal.

Your entire body reeked of alpha pheromones—clearly not your own. They carried a hint of musky leather and a scent reminiscent of stormy nights. What was even more concerning was the fact that your body responded in this scent—you liked it..! As an alpha! Panic and confusion surged through your mind as blurry afterimages of the previous night flashed through your thoughts in a matter of seconds. You felt your face flush red with humiliation and shame. Right. You had gotten…bitched. Bitched by Leo.

Sunlight streamed through the windows of your bedroom like any other ordinary day. Except it wasn’t. The clear and fresh humiliation seared and burned into your mind, your only remaining pride as an alpha remaining— completely shattered and destroyed. How could you have submitted! To the very man who invaded and conquered your country?! The man who ruthlessly slaughtered your countrymen…the very man who also mercilessly fucked you…on the throne. Embarrassment once again took ahold of you as your sore nape throbbed at the thought of the events of the previous night.

"You done wallowing in pity?" A cold, harsh voice sliced through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. A slim and lean man stood at the foot of the bed you lay in, holding a clipboard. He emitted no scent and seemed to be a beta. “Who are you?!” you demanded, glaring at him with guarded suspicion.

“Calm down. I’m a private doctor who’s friends with Leo, he called for me to come examine you.” He rolled his eyes in irritation. “He doesn’t even pay me to deal with the bullshit I have to deal with…Anyways, you clearly went through a number. This guy initiated such a forceful bitching on the spot when you were clearly emotionally and mentally stimulated. Now the consequences of that is, due to the traumatic experience which was caused by the sudden change of your secondary gender, your body is in a pseudo-state of an omega. You aren’t really one right now, you still retain your alpha features….” Hearing the doctor ramble on, you blankly stared off into space.

An omega. You were now an omega. Why— “Hey! Are you listening?” He snapped his fingers. “Listen to what I say!” His frustration was evident in his growl. You blinked your eyes apologetically, trying to focus on his words. “As I was saying, you do still have your features as an alpha, those fangs can still mark someone and your cock still has a knot. Well, a rather pitiful one as of now though, I did have to examine you.” He shook his head in what seemed like gratuitous pity.

“However, your body is in a state of transition into an omega right now. You will leak slick and have random pseudo-heats until you have stabilised as an omega. Without the presence of Leo, the alpha who marked you, your body would not survive those heats and it would be fatal. This is also because of the heat you went through after he bit you.” He droned on monotonously. Like a knife through butter, your heart felt as though it was ripped open at the news.

This man was fucking sick. Everyone was fucking sick! Grinding your teeth in fury, you glared at the doctor in a fit of rage. “Okay, don’t shoot the messenger…just trying to do my job. Just have plenty of rest and with your alpha by your side. I’ll prescribe an ointment for that bite. And speak of the devil! I’ll go now.” He helplessly pinched the crease between his eyebrows before striding off. “How’s my wife doing?” A rich, magnetic voice echoed in the chamber as you were met with piercing blue eyes that seemed to engulf you in their entirety.

“Fuck off.” You spat at him with as much venom your hoarse voice could muster. A pitiful attempt that seemed to only make the teasing grin on his face grow bigger. If he hadn’t bitched and fucked you, you would have assumed this man would have been sent by the heavens to save you. “So feisty… love that about you, (Name),” he grinned, his eyes locked on you, seemingly ready to devour you at any moment.

“You’ve heard the man, as your husband and your alpha, I shall assist you through your heats and provide you with all the loving care you could ever need.” With a malice-filled smile, he manhandled you into a hug that seemed to steal your very breath away from you. “Ugh! Don’t- fucking touch me!” You struggled weakly, flailing your arms as he gripped onto you tighter at your resistance. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through your lower abdomen, causing you to collapse weakly into his arms.

Lightly caressing your cheek, he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek as he muttered for you to rest, clearly displeased. The rasp of his voice filled your ears as you couldn’t help but press your legs together unconsciously. Your heart pounded in your ears as blood rushed to your cheeks and also your… “Are you hard right now?” A hint of amusement in his voice cut through the heavy silence. “N-no! I’m…” Leaving no room for argument, he lifted up your flimsy gown to the sight of your pathetically erect cock, leaking beads of precum.

Huffing playfully, he palmed at your throbbing dick, earning a soft whine from you. Your eyes were half-lidded and glazed over with lust. Your mouth hung agape, forming words that didn’t exist with a voice you didn’t have in your efforts to comprehend the pleasure you were begrudgingly feeling. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want rough and calloused fingers so delicately brushing over your sensitive tip, making your insides twist and turn at the familiar delicious burn of pleasure.

Your head started to droop, but a sharp squeeze to your cock brought you back in an instant. “Are you enjoying yourself, (Name)?” Leo smiled, full of mirth but also of ill intentions. Slowly, he began to pump your member again, his cruel smile twisting upwards as he heard you let out a strangled moan. Glancing at yourself, you had no choice but admit you were a mess really. Your skin covered with a fine sheen of sweat as you panted laboriously and your hips involuntarily rocking into the warm hold of Leo’s fist.

Grunting disdainfully at the lack of response from you, Leo sighed into the crook of your neck, hot breath brushing against the very bite mark that seemed to burn. “You say you don’t want this though,” his hand crawled achingly slowly up to the desperately sensitive tip. “Maybe I should just leave you be. Just. Let. You. Be.” With each word he punctuated it with a gentle rub of the precum-soaked tip, you nearly found yourself sent over the edge from that alone. You were too close to stop now.

“Please…” A weak plea left your throat. You couldn’t help himself. You knew it was a mistake, but one your useless body was so desperate to make. This ache had to go away. “Please Leo…”Leo grinned victoriously. “Well, since you asked so nicely…” You smelt the air suddenly surge with pheromones. Ah. That soothing smell. Whilst seemingly suffocating in his pheromones, Leo increased the speed of his pumping, making you come undone with a silent scream as the exhaustion overtook you. Slumping down, you felt your taut body sink into his arms before once again passing out. “Fuck.” Leo looked down at the wet stain in his pants and the tent that wouldn’t go away.

A few years ago, under the cover of night, he had ventured out to the same forest clearing where he had once found solace. It was a place he had comforted you in before, though back then, you were both younger. As he arrived, ready to unleash his annoyance on the intruder, he was taken aback to find you huddled, trembling with unshed tears. Your defiant gaze intrigued him, and despite his initial intention to chase you away, he was struck by your vulnerability.

“Hey, you can’t be in… here…” he began, but trailed off when he saw your pitiful form. Struggling with unfamiliar emotions, he attempted to offer comfort, a rare gesture for someone of his royal stature. “You… okay?” he asked awkwardly, furrowing his brows.

“I’m o-okay!” you quickly responded, rubbing your eyes and standing up with a sheepish grin. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you with my crying…” Your innocent reaction only made him more determined to be gentle, despite his internal conflict. His pheromones, released unconsciously, elicited a low snarl from you, signaling your hostility. The mingling scents of earthy soil and rain from you in the air only highlighted the moment.

“Sorry…” he said, rubbing his head in apology. You merely nodded and hurried away into the distance. Though he had expected never to see you again, fate had other plans. Now that you were back in his life, he was resolved never to let you go again.

note: so yeah that’s it uh Leo had an interest in you and ran w it and he met u to ur very misfortune. Reader isn’t having a really great time overall 😭 but I hope this explains things! Tried my hand at something more story related

Reblogs are appreciated ❤️

[astrologylunadream]

Everything About Your Future Spouse +Traits & Initials 🌹👤💍 (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hi it's Lunadream~ This is my first future spouse reading for you guys, so let me know if you wanna see more readings like this one.❤️ We will learn everything on your future spouse and specific details about them. hope you find your message🥰

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 This is a general reading for many people! (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of the your person, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~❤️

Pile 1🌹

Pile 2🪷

Pile 3💐

Pile 4🌷

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> 💕

Pile 1🌹

Sign energy: Cold, Darling, Concert, Silence, Provide, Saturn, Aries, 5th house, 4th house, Sun,✔️♒️♋️🫡

🌹All about your future spouse: I kinda felt there would for sure be some successful energy from this pile's future spouse lol. Not necessarily prideful but definitely they know their worth, and I'm typically seeing an entrepreneur/family business thing going on with you two😍🏠💼 I love this couple's energy so much. Idk why but I'm getting some of you may be Aries-Aquarius relationship or Aries-Cancer relationship. They could have Capricorn, Aquarius, Aries, Leo, or Cancer placements in their chart. Omg your spouse will know how to mix work and play so well!! Like one minute they are serious down to business and the next dragging you off to a concert and jamming out with you LOL🤣 You guys may tie the knot sometime in winter. It's in the cards my pile 1's this person WILL PROVIDE.💸💰💍 Like your future spouse will dedicate so much to their family, and they will make a great parent I'm hearing for those who are interested in that😭💗 Omg so like at their work space they are super cold and sooo different from the way they are at home with their spouse/family, at home they are literally so sweet to their partner and love playing with their kids but they DON'T PLAY at work oml like people they work with will have mad respect for your future spouse, I'm kinda getting boss energy so that could be because everyone is under your future spouse or working for them.😎🪜🔝 They show authority to others I'm seeing people greeting your future spouse like saluting to them (maybe they're in high position), bowing to your future spouse, ect. Your future spouse is so soft spoken and sweet with my pile 1's, meanwhile at work they may be more stern or harsh. They don't mind stepping on toes to give everything to their family.🥺💐💞 Ride or die for their family vibes. Seriously you will mean so much to this person, you will be a huge highlight in your future spouse's life. It's so sweet, so loving.🥹❤️

💬Initials: X, F, V, U, R

📍Locations: North america, North, Australia, South, Europe (These can be significant to you or them, or places you meet, travel or live together🥰)

💼Occupations: Entrepreneur, Public figure, Manager, Business owner, CEO, Finance, Artist, Politician, Media Influencer, Property owner, High status official, Entertainment industry

💌Messages from your future spouse: I can't believe it, I can't look you in the eyes, You left an impression on me, Come to your senses, I'm so tempted (😍) Extra cards: Public image, Connection, Synchrony, Sagittarius, Cupid

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!❤️

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the red rose emoji~🌹 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💋

Pile 2🪷

Sign energy: Eyebrows, Decor, February, Train, Siren, Chiron, 11th house, Water, South node, Earth,🦋🍋😰🌁

🌹All about your future spouse: Okay so definitely getting water sign energy with this one. Your future spouse has such adorable traits!!😩💗 They may be born in february so Pisces is likely. Aquarius, Earth or Water placements too. They may work online or have an online business, it's something really clever and innovative I'm hearing. Your future spouse will have a very delicate occupation like it's nothing extreme or dangerous it's actually super simple and successful.😇📨 This may be designing, home related, advertising, ect. I just feel like their job is so sweet idk why. It really suits them and they have such a calm and gentle work space. Your spouse will make money online or that is a source for them💸💻💫 You may connect with them through social media or that is where you first see them. They are intuitive and have exceptional ideas, I feel like they really think out of the ordinary.💡 For some of you this spouse may have a job that requires getting on a train🚆 My pile 2's your future spouse will be unique and very interesting to you.✨️ They will heal your past, like you can depend on them.🫂 Their eyebrows may be a noticeable physical trait of theirs. Your future spouse may live near a bridge or water, also you guys may have a small thing of growing your own fruits or vegetables?? For some of you that may be the case, it's really cute omg.🥺🩷 This will feel like a very healthy relationship for you both, a breath of fresh air. I feel like this person can be whatever you want them to be, like they will change for the better for you.💗 Omg can can we talk about how worried they get over you?? Like if you get injured or they think the slightest thing is bothering you, they will ask you what's wrong and comfort you until you feel better.😢🌧💞 Like they just know. Your future spouse has soft siren vibes imo, not the intense scary kind but the adorable floppy fish vibes idk??😂🤣 They are just there for you whenever you need them💓 This is a really soft and innocent relationship you guys will have. :D

💬Initials: F, Z, L, W, J

📍Locations: U.S.A, Turkey, Hawaii, Indonesia, Australia (These can be significant to you or them, or places you meet, travel or live together🥰)

💼Occupations: Brand owner, Home design, Online marketing, Architecture, Interior designer, Online business, Editor, Graphic design, Freelance artist, Social media management

💌Messages from your future spouse: I get lost in your eyes, All you have to do is ask, I'll tell them myself, Have you thought of me lately? I think you're a great person (They love my pile 2's vibe😊🩷) Extra cards: Above, Blood, Embrace, Union, Unrequited love

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!❤️

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the pink lotus emoji~🪷 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! Wish you the best and see you in the next reading💋

Pile 3💐

Sign energy: Love letter, Wish, Spouse, Chiron, Long, Cancer, Aries, Mercury, 1st house, 3rd house,😭🥲🦇👅

🌹All about your future spouse: Wow interesting my pile 3's your future spouse is so recognizable, you will notice them right away.😍😍❤️ Prominent signs for them are Cancer, Aries, Virgo, and Gemini. They will be so into you from the start lol like serious about you. They will confess many times to ensure they have you, They could have long legs or something long in their appearance, their tongue could be.😶 Anyways they will speak to you first I'm hearing, it will not be hard for them to strike up a conversation with you. You will be shocked by their forward approach, they may be surprisingly honest in the beginning like "let's get this thing straight, I'm into you" kinda thing🤭❤️ But like once you become closer you will see how romantic and loving your future spouse gets with you!! They will compliment you and flirt with you so much, and probably the type to keep telling you they want to marry you.🏠🌹They are witty and romantic as hell. The type to brag about their family with you (if you have one) and tell others how in love with you they are. They will talk up my pile 3's so much.🥺💞 Their job may involve communicating with many people. Your future spouse will help you through things that have been affecting you for a while. You will really want to commit to this person I'm hearing, once they got you.. you won't wanna leave😝 They speak openly about the things they want and leave it out there waiting for you to fulfill them💋 Like saying they want affection without actually asking or telling you they're cold just to see if you'll cuddle them.🥺 This is so sweet, they know all the words to say to make you blush.🗣💌 Your future spouse will know they want to marry you upon first meeting or the early stages of the connection, also for some of you this person has been wishing and hoping to marry you or find you for a long time.⏳️ Once they have you they won't stop telling you how pretty/hot you are😳❤️‍🔥 They are great communicators, like really smooth.😎 Kisses with them will be💋👅 And hugs will be🫂😇 That is all I will say about that🙈 My pile 3's your future spouse will be so caring and doting to you, they will take good care of you guys!!

💬Initials: N, U, X, B, K

📍Locations: Canada, Finland, Peru, Africa, India (These can be significant to you or them, or places you meet, travel or live together🥰)

💼Occupations: Writer, Poet, Personal trainer, Motivational speaker, Public speaker, An activist of some kind, Family business, Preacher, Blogger, Screenwriter, News reporter, Broadcaster

💌Messages from your future spouse: I can't help myself, Just dance with me, I wish, There's distance between us, So what if we're a thing? Extra cards: Listen, Kitty, Ego, Enchanting, Comment (Yeah they are one with their words💬❤️‍🔥)

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!❤️

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the flower bouquet emoji~💐 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! Wish you the best and see you in the next reading💋

Pile 4🌷

Sign energy: Hater, Age, Walk, Leo, 10th house, 7th house, 5th house, Gemini, Moon, Chiron,🧱🦥🔞🦄

🌹All about your future spouse: There is a lot going on with this pile.🤯 Your future spouse is someone very important, on the top of success in their field.🔝💼 They are charismatic and good with all kinds of people, they know how to gain respect🤝 You guys may have a significant age gap with this person, I'm getting they are older than most of you. My pile 4's feel more youthful, that is the vibe I'm getting from you guys. Your future spouse has a masculine energy and approach to things, very dominant feel. I'm getting model/acting/CEO/millionaire/high up official vibes.✨️ Take what resonates but I am seeing not everyone will approve of your relationship with them.😬🚫 For some of you this could be your mom or someone who is protective over you, they may not want you to marry this person. Your future spouse will be very well off in terms of finance💸 I'm getting the vibe they may push you guys away at first, maybe you want to rush into things with them but they don't think you are ready.✋️🤨 They may put their walls up at first, but eventually they will realize you are worthy and successful in their eyes.👑💍 At first your future spouse will come off dismissive of you since they are used to having many admirers that get on their nerves, your future spouse may have issues with gold diggers💰🧲 I'm seeing people tryna put their hands on them and they're just like 🙄 get the fk away. LOL they hate it. Everyone thinks they are one of a kind and want a piece of them, your future spouse will recieve so much attention.👀 Also people will be jealous of you and your spouse like why her/him??😒😤 Your relationship will be sought after by many. Your future spouse may also take walks often, that could be something you two do together.🥰 They will protect and provide for my pile 4's, nothing will get in their way of you guys seriously.🥺❤️ When you two are finally committed things will get spicy aswell❤️‍🔥

💬Initials: W, C, M, T, D

📍Locations: Turkey, Hawaii, Canada, Brazil, Thailand (These can be significant to you or them, or places you meet, travel or live together🥰)

💼Occupations: Public figure, Business owner, Entertainer, CEO, Entrepreneur, Model, Acting, Investor, Marketer, Producer, Fashion industry, Brand ambassador

💌Messages from your future spouse: You're talking nonsense, Smile for me, We might move too fast, You're my addiction, Listen up (Lol they're like listen here pile 4 you belong to them😭👇) Extra cards: Skin, Beach, Compulsive, Beloved, Expand (I'll leave it to you guys imagination on that one😳)

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!❤️

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the tulip emoji~🌷 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! Wish you the best and see you in the next reading💋

Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸

Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3

[waitingonher]

LOVER'S ROCK [h.o.o. characters in love]

percy jackson

memorizes your fast-food/gas station order. even if you didn’t ask, percy’s still gonna get you a lil something from wherever he goes. he has a shoe box that holds every single thing you’ve ever given him. may or may not still have the receipt from the restaurant after your first date. listens to the music you recommend him. usually, percy’s very opinionated about the music he listens to but he always gives yours a try. embarasses himself solely to see you laugh. yes, the time he dropped his ice cream cone into the hudson was on purpose.

annabeth chase

waits for you to watch the latest episode of your favorite show. annabeth will wait for you no matter what, even if it pains her to not know whether or not her favorite character just died. eases up around you. she appreciates not having to be completely on guard all the time. paints your nails for you. annabeth always finds it funny when she sees your non-dominant hand perfectly manicured while your dominant hand looks as if you did it blindfolded.

jason grace

annotates his favorite books for you to read. when it’s the occasional romance novel, jason writes “us <3” in the margin everytime the love interests do anything remotely romantic. gifts you a necklace with his initial. he smiles everytime he sees it resting against your chest. jason’s phone is entirely made up of you. his lockscreen, his home screen, his widgets…everything is you. jason randomly gives you massages. if you’re working on some school assignment he’d come up behind you and start massaging your neck and shoulders, getting out the knots you didn’t even know you had.

piper mclean

allows you to bypass her dnd. most of the time, piper’s on dnd so she made it so that only your notifications could bypass it. she does the chores you hate the most. even if she hates it just as much, she’ll do it just to see you happy. piper loves making those cheesy couple videos with you on tiktok. every day she’ll tell you how you two are basically tiktok famous?? piper only listens to you when it comes to fashion advice. yeah, she’ll acknowledge what others have to say about her outfits, but she truly only cares about what you think. 

leo valdez

loves you to the point of invention. you can’t even count the amount of gadgets leo’s made for you. he also comes home with little knicknacks made from spare parts of his projects. flowers made of metal scraps >> regular flowers. lets down his guard for you. leo doesn’t feel the need to keep up his happy, humorous persona when he’s with you. he lets you take whatever side of the bed you want. even if leo likes to sleep against the wall, he’ll let you because he knows it makes you happy.

hazel levesque

buys matching couple outfits. you two have your own pinterest board dedicated to your matching outfits. takes care of your hair. considering her own hair, hazel knows a lot about hair care. date nights where she oils your hair and washes it for you over anything else. ties your bows for you. she laughs when you finish tying the bow in your hair only to realize that the loops and tails are different sizes. wears matching jewelry. you two have lockets with photos from your first date. 

frank zhang

never the first one to let go from hugs. frank can and will stand there and hug you for the entire day if you want to. ties your shoes for you. whenever he notices your shoes are untied he entirely stops what he’s doing and drops to the floor, propping your foot on his knee to tie it. always gives you his food. even if you had said you didn’t want any, frank still shares some with you.

[milykins]

TMNT Headcanon - When You Can't Sleep

Authors Note: I feel I need to clarify one thing. I’m aware that some people rely on marijuana to help with sleeplessness but I personally don’t use it so it’s unlikely to have a place in my writing. Recreational drugs in general won’t really be something I write about. Call me a straight-edge but I prefer leaving it out. I will write about alcohol usage since I do occasionally have a drink with friends.

Anyway, I actually have been having some rough nights lately so therefore we have this.

Individual TMNT x Reader

TW: Mentions of sex

You’ve been having a lot of trouble sleeping lately. Lucky for you, you’ve got plenty of cure-alls. It all depends on who you ask.

Mikey

Your cuddly turtle boyfriend is no stranger to insomnia. Sometimes, the life of a ninja was too heavy, even for him and his upbeat persona. You knew Mikey could feel things a little too deeply and replay horrifying images continuously in his head. Over the years he’s developed some coping strategies. For you, he’ll offer you a melatonin gummy and something hot to drink. Tea, hot chocolate, or warm milk. If you still can’t sleep after that, he’ll stay up with you. He’ll cuddle you, rub your back, play some calming music… most of all, he’ll tell you that whatever this is, will pass. You might start panicking a little bit, telling him through tears that you’re afraid you’ll never sleep again, but he’ll assure you that you will. After all, no one died from a few sleepless nights. His gentle reassurances are just what you need to hear, and eventually you do drop off into a peaceful and dreamless sleep.

Raph

Not nearly as tactful as his baby brother, Raph will bluntly offer to give you an orgasm. After all, that’s one of his go-to’s when he can’t sleep. Raph is actually the only one of his brothers to have a somewhat healthy sleeping schedule. Disturbing images, horror, and depressing stories just don’t hold a lot of weight for him. They still affect him, but he’s able to compartmentalize these things and drop off to sleep rather easily at night. He’ll still try to help you with your insomnia, though, like a good boyfriend should. If the offer of sex is turned down, he’ll offer a backrub – an innocent one, of course. No ulterior motive, he’ll promise. He’s very good with his hands and able to work out any knots, kinks, or stiffness, getting you very relaxed in no time at all. You might accept his offer for sex then, just because he’s been so sweet and patient, and given you an amazing massage. It works. In the afterglow, you’re asleep and cuddled up next to him, wrapped in his comforting embrace.

Leo

His first reaction will be concern, and he might pepper you with a few questions. Did you watch something disturbing? Is anything causing you stress or causing you to worry? Is it something he did? You quickly assure him he’s done nothing to cause it. You actually don’t know the reason; you just can’t shut off your brain for some reason. Upon hearing this, he’ll light some calming incense and offer you tea, of course. This blend will be a combination of valerian root, peppermint leaf, and a few others that promote wellness and sleep. True to form, he’ll also recommend meditation, except he’ll have you do it a little differently than you normally would. After your tea he’ll instruct you to lay down in his bed, get comfortable, and close your eyes. He’ll have you breathe deeply as he leads you through the most peaceful guided meditation you’ve ever experienced. It’s so relaxing that you have no trouble falling asleep after that. Leo will follow suit and be careful not to disturb you as he crawls in next to you.

Donnie

He is the worst about having a healthy sleep schedule. It isn’t because he has trouble sleeping, but because he has difficulty tearing himself away from his work. He just has to finish this one thing… or read one more paragraph. It’s never just one more paragraph with him. He usually needs to be coaxed to go rest, so it’s no surprise that he’s still awake in his lab when you quietly shuffle in after trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep for hours. Donnie will lose any and all focus that he had on his work and shift gears into helping you. He’ll shush all of your attempts to apologize for disturbing him and offer you a sleep aid. He’ll usher you to his bed and lay next to you, asking if there’s anything you need to get off your chest that may be inhibiting your ability to sleep. When you explain that you find it difficult to quiet your thoughts, he can definitely relate to that. He’ll put on some deep ambient music set at 432 Hz. He’ll explain that it’s the perfect frequency to promote relaxation, reduce tension, and support emotional wellbeing. It is what he uses to lull himself to sleep when he has a hard time reaching the coveted REM stage. The music works, and you find yourself finally slipping into rest. Donnie ends up falling asleep next to you as an added bonus. He really needed to stop working and go to bed anyway.

The End - Sleep Well Everyone

Taglist:

@danceingfae @thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus @the-cauldron-witch @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28 @scholastic-dragon

I hope that's okay if I've tagged you! If you'd like to be added just let me know!

[conradrasputin]

[netherfeildren]

Honey, Stomach, Mine ; 2. More Intelligent Than a Face

Series Masterlist ; Part 1. ; Part 3.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics; Dystopian Society; Outbreak not Cordyceps AU; Angst & Yearning™️; Slow Burn; Sexual Inexperience; Cock Riding; Size Difference; Size Kink; Sex Ed for Omega’s 101; Power Dynamics; Creampie; Discussions of Heats and Knots and Slick, Oh My!; Virginity; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Young and Needy Omega; Possessive Behavior; Age Gap

A/N: FYI I do mention that she has small breasts in this one only because I usually write big boobs and thought it was time for some itty bitty titty committee representation. 

Word Count: 13.9K

Read on AO3

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2. More Intelligent Than a Face

Existence is a strange thing, a needful thing. Something to be sated, filled, satisfied, this ordeal of being a living, breathing person. And to be an unusual sort of person, someone with needs extra to what the regular sort would require, doubly strange. 

You had always thought, in different ways, that the mating program, although a choice thief, a freedom thief, was also benevolent in its control in some ways. After all, it gave those of you who were of the not usual sort, alphas and omegas, that such thing that you needed so badly. 

Each other. 

A bad, terrible, devastating thing that in turn gives you something necessary, life changing, life fulfilling, even, perhaps. 

When your aunt had died and you’d been taken away and then put away and then shut away for what seemed would be forever, it had not, at first, in your child’s mind, seemed so terrible. But with the years, that existence you bore that needed, it began to hurt. It eventually became a very terrible thing that in turn, had taken away your ability to recognize yourself, as well. The reality that you’d been caged because of what you were, perhaps not particularly who, but certainly, what, was, at first, difficult to see. And then, when you did see it, even more difficult to look at. 

A thing caged because of what it is. And again, existence is a strange and needful thing. Caged because of what you exist as; caged because of what you need because of what you are. Caged because they can give you what will sate you. 

You open your eyes slowly, the bright, waning golden light of dusk shooting over the edge of the end of the world; bleeding pinks and violets feeding the fire. And he’s there, in a deeply set arm chair pulled up by the hearth, staring into the flames, and you realize, like you’d never truly considered before, that the cage was in part also his fault. That in ways, you’d been put away also because of what he is. You wonder if this should make you angry, resentful. If it should mean you should not want to be here, langoring so comfortably in his home that he’d brought you to. This man who you do not know, who does not so much even look like he wants to know you. In ways, your caging is his fault. And certainly, concretely, the prolonging of that caging was entirely of his doing. So why is there no resentment?

Once, one of the other omegas had said that they were brainwashing all of you. Preparing you, ripening you for slaughter. He’d come in later than the rest of you, when he was more grown, more mature, when he’d seen more things in his before life. He had lots of opinions, lots of thoughts, said that your before life, those ten years of living with your aunt, of only being a child like all the rest of them and not an omega, did not count. He said you’d been too young to understand all you’d lost. A boy named Leo. He was kind, but he was angry. And his anger frightened you. It was something you did know, in the sense that you could recognize it, for you’d seen anger before, but you could not understand it. For some reason, maybe you were built wrongly, and Leo was right, and you should have been angry like him, but you could never find it within yourself to muster it. Maybe there was nothing wrong about it. Maybe everyone was simply built and made and felt differently and that was fine too. But you knew that he was wrong on some accounts, particularly, that your before life had counted, that your aunt, who you remembered with so much love, had counted. And most of all, what he was most painfully wrong about, was that you did, and deeply, understand all you had lost. 

After all, you could only see the sky for one hour a day, every other day, now, and that one hour made your understanding of everything around you, everything happening to you, keen and painful and humiliating in a very clear way. 

The last rays of the sun wash Joel in vibrant orange reds now. A slash of glowing vermillion across his face, something almost violent about the streak of light, something possessive, and you focus your eyes intently on the sight of his face. This man, this alpha, who for all intents and purposes would or could own you as declared by the government or nature or even Leo and all he’d said would happen once you’d been claimed. 

But there was one last thing he’d been wrong about, that young, angry boy, and what you felt was the greatest chasm between the way the two of you had existed within your new designations, which was that, at one very recent point in Leo’s memory, he had belonged to someone, to somewhere. He’d had a place and a home and a family, and he had belonged, and you had never had that. Your aunt, despite her love for you, had been too old and tired to want you, truly want you. You had never been wanted in any soft, true way by anyone before. And looking at him now, you don’t think Joel could ever be capable of wanting anything in a soft way, but you do think he could want something in a true way, and you’re certain that could be more than enough for you. 

“Why didn’t you come for me?” Your voice, scratchy and small from sleep, floating away from you towards him. He jerks, the twitching returned, head snapping towards you, eyes wide, moving forward in his seat as if he’d spring out of it and towards you without thought. His scent seems to be heightened somehow now. As if your sleep had awakened your senses in new, keener ways. You can feel him tickling the back of your throat, threading his way through your hair, beneath your clothes, between your legs. 

“Are you hungry?” He asks, ignoring your question. “When was the last time you ate? You need to eat.” And again that frown, too many fast words. 

“Why didn't you come for me?” You press. “They told me you didn’t know if you wanted to come, that you wouldn't answer. I want to know why.”

He sighs a heavy, heaving thing, falling back in the chair, and turns back to the fire, and you want to whine and cry until he puts his attention back on you. You feel so… so– you don’t know. Little, unmade, with a need to be big, to grow and grow and grow so that all the things you feel and want might fit inside of you, so that he might fit inside of you. You feel hungry as if your gums ache and sting with a desire you’ve never tasted before. But also, and despite all of these conflicting, churning things, you also feel so inexplicably at ease. He’s just there, and you are just here, and you’ll make him answer, you know you have it in you to make him do the things you want, and you can’t say how, you don’t know how, but you understand that you do. 

There’s power in that – even as you are, all you are not, you can see it – the ability something small possesses to make something big move, do, be. There’s power in that. 

You whine low in your throat, and he turns back to you, something dark and tumultuous in his eyes, brow crooked sternly, but he opens his mouth. “I was going to leave you there,” he says, and you immediately wish he’d shut it. Never mind, you want to tell him, you say all the wrong things.  

“But why? I was waiting for you.” Whine, whine, whine.

“I didn’t want this. I never have.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t want me?” You ask again, just to be absolutely certain you’re understanding that you’ve once again found yourself in a place where you are not wanted for, or despite of, the thing that you are. The logistics, the intricacies of it don’t seem to matter as much anymore, after everything, the before life, the not life, all that matters now is the yes or no. 

But he goes silent again, attention back toward the fire, the sun set, no more glowing vermillion slash, very little hope now too. 

He ignores your question again. “Tell me about the place they kept you,” he says instead. 

“There’s nothing to tell.” You want to cry now, for the first time, besides the tears of initial happiness when he’d finally walked into your white box, you want to cry. You dig stubby nails into the round of your knee, hard as you can, trying to make it hurt and distract. “It was very calm and very quiet.”

“Did you have friends?” He won’t turn back to look at you, and it makes you feel very lacking. Very much like the nothing they tried to make you feel you were before. 

“No. They wouldn’t let us.”

“They wouldn’t let you have friends?”

“No. They said it would agitate us – too much socialization. Really, they just didn’t want us realizing, becoming angry and aware”

This makes him turn, makes you feel, within yourself, the anger you’re telling him of, like oh, now, when I’ve been shocking and honest, you look at me – after I waited all that time for you. There is no resentment about the cage, only for the waiting. You should stick your tongue out at him, make him an ugly face, turn over and go back to sleep and ignore him the way he’d ignore you. But no, you think, let him see that you do understand, and you do know some things, that you are angry, and Leo was right.

“What did you do then?” He asks. 

“I read. I learned about myself, about you. About what we are.”

His gaze is so intense now, a ricochet, a scream, something very persistently sad. “And what are we?”

“People just like all the rest of them. But with more necessity.”

“How do you mean?”

You tip your head side to side, bright fire eyed gaze to bright fire eyed gaze. Your cheeks feel molten, sweltering, sweat at your nape, the fire in the hearth so bright, but not as bright as you; your belly glows. This is what you are, this is what you’d been made into. “There is so much necessity in existing, don’t you think?”

He tips his chin, he doesn’t understand. 

“We need so many things. We require so much to be alive, to be what we are, to be satisfied and content.”

“Do we?”

“The things we are, yes. I think so.”

“You don’t seem like you spent years in that place,” he says, voice slow, molasses in the notes. There’s something hypnotized slumbering in him that forces something satisfied to swell within you. Your belly glows. 

“I had a before life. People forget that.”

“I read in your file — you lived with an aunt.”

You wait for the: only for ten years, but the diminishing does not come. “Yes. She was kind, and I remember all of it, even if the rest of the world forgets it happened.”

“Did they ever mistreat you? At the facility–”

“No. Never. There was nothing.” You’re the one to turn away now. The sun has entirely gone away, a single glowing sliver just at the drop off of the end of the world. You stick your hand out straight ahead of you, fingertip following that line of fading light through air and space and sea. 

He watches you unblinkingly, and asks, “What do you mean?” The far off light glows through your skin, through your fingernail; he follows the path of your hand.

You can pretend in your mind that you feel the warmth of it against your fingertip, that it scorches the way it glows, heats the length of your limb, feeds the same glow in your belly, but there’s no more possessive streak of light to wrap around you; now, the heat only lives within you. This is what you are, this is what they said would happen, and now it’s finally happening. You let your arm fall back to your lap, limp, and turn to look at him again. He looks so angry, and you feel so incredibly sad for him. This cold perch, this cage that is not white like your box, but dark and struck right on the edge of peril, this place he chose to exile himself to. They were honest, in the things they'd told you all, the truth of the way alphas exist out in the world. Lonely and ostracized and feared, brainwashed to your reality maybe, sure, the way Leo claimed. But in certain things, they’d been honest, and you’re glad for it, that you have the ability to understand him now from this vantage point. The reality of how he exists, the reason for that look in his eyes, it all makes sense to you. 

“I suppose that can be a kind of bad thing… a mistreatment. Making nothing of us, of our lives, taking the whole world away until someone chooses to come and give it back to us.”

He flinches, the look shutters, clicks and flashes, a camera capturing the truth of what the two of you have already done to each other without even really knowing one another at all. “I’m sorry I waited. I’m sorry I took so long.” The words cost him something the way all truths cost something. “That I wasn’t there for you as soon as I should have been.”

“Why weren’t you?” You ask, although you know. 

“I couldn’t. I can’t. I’m not– I’m not right. I’m not well.” And this costs him more than the rest, you can see. The thump, thump, beat of his heart in his throat. You should tell him to stop, mercy is power, but you think, feel, that this pound of flesh you’re demanding via his truths is what you’re owed for your life and a year of waiting. And anyways, you’ll pay your own pound of flesh in kind eventually, and it’ll cost, even if it’s freely given, it’ll still cost. Everything is equal here, it’s only that it takes a certain kind of eye to realize the truth of that. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Everything, what I am, the whole thing of it and this. It’s all wrong.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t know.” And he looks suddenly angry, aged, wearing all his years and all his very obvious loneliness, teeth bared but on the verge of falling out.

“No…” you say slowly, thinking, rationalizing, a rolodex of truths in your mind. What you are, what I am, what we all are and all the honesties that compromise us. “I don’t, but I understand anyway. They make you all nothing, as well, don’t they? They take it all away, all nothing until you have one of us. It’s a terrible way to live.” And you don’t ask him, it’s not a question, only a very obvious thing. 

Your words upset him, put him right at the mouth of madness, all those shakes and jitters returned, but you only lay your head back down on the soft pillow he’d tucked beneath you, hands folded undercheek to wait for the explosion that does not come. There’s something in you that wants to see him angry, angry like Leo, like the boy who’d said you didn't have to be what they told you to be, that reminded you that you could choose for yourself. One of the few things you’d agreed on, despite and inspite of the friendship that they would not let you have but that would have blossomed anyways if they’d given you the time. They wanted to make you nothing, but you didn’t want to be nothing. You wanted very much to be alive and to belong. 

You realize, watching Joel muzzle his nature before your very eyes, wondering if the truth of him would have him springing up out of the chair to smother you with his weight and temper you with his knot, subdued with his teeth sunken into the gland at the back of your neck, that you want to see him angry. You realize that you want to see him break, that you want to hear that truth no matter what it costs the either of you. You want to see him honest. 

He struggles, a dog fight right before your eyes, but when he wins, it changes the game, turns the truth chimeral. Makes you see him in a different way, and all at the same time, makes you aware and even more comfortable than you’d already been. You’re safe here. He is safe. Most importantly, you want to be here. 

“Let me show you your room,” he says after a deep breath. 

“My room?” A little seedling of dread and sadness and disappointment. 

He shows you to a bedroom hued in soft blues. The sea when it is gentle, the sky when it’s joyous. Everything comfortable, nothing white, like he’d known already. 

He stands awkwardly at the mouth of the entry, as if scared to step foot into this serene pool of azure and marr it’s peace. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as you move around, no shoes, no socks, slowly running your fingers over all the soft surfaces, sweaty little toes sunken into the deep pile of the rug underfoot. 

“I wanted you to have somewhere to adjust– where you’d have privacy. I’m sure this– that I– that it’s all a shock…” he stutters.

One of his boots inches forward, snaps back, like he wants to follow, like he needs to follow, like nature is right here in the room with the two of you, but he wins that dog fight again, holds back. Frustrating. 

“I’m not shocked. But I– I won’t stay with you?”

“No,” he says with a finality that makes that seedling bloom in full. “I also got you clothes. And– and soft things. I know your sort–”

You give a soft huff of air through your nose, my sort… our sort.

“Like things like that. And I also… I also put some of my own things in the drawers,” he nods towards a dark mahogany dresser shoved up against the wall; shy and boyish and hesitant all wrapped into a package that would seem to be none of those things. “They say that helps.”

“Okay… thank you.” 

“Went into town to get it,” he says of the robin's eggshell blue duvet, a more dove gray blue wash for the silk soft sheets beneath. It’s all beautiful and delicate and lace trimmed and looking at him, huge and rough and something like a lonely mountain, you can’t believe he’d chosen this for you. “Lady at the store said you’d like it when I picked it out.” And that makes satisfaction smother the seedling, yes, he’d chosen it for you. A good sign. 

“You went into town to get me things?”

“I told you I want you to be comfortable while you’re here.” Something about the sentence tickles your mind, but then you’re lowering yourself onto the cloud soft bed, cool silk and cotton beneath your skin, sliding against his clothes, your belly glows bright. You’re full of distractions and truth. “There’re a couple of young women that live down aways.” Young women? You perk up at the thought. Friends? “Ellie and Dina. Two young alphas, and they’re good people. I’ll take you down to meet them soon, when you’re ready.”

“Two alphas?”

“They’re a couple.”

“Like– like in love?”

He hovers at the edge of the rug with that strange look in his eyes again, the one from before – I’m only an omega, you don’t have to be afraid of me – and a palpable desperation to cross the border you don’t think he’s even aware he’s letting you in on, but that you can see nonetheless. Two fingers tucked into the line of his belt, twisted there as if grasping for restraint. 

“Yeah, they’re together.”

“I didn’t know alphas could do that… that they’d let you.”

“Reckon it’s why they came all the way out here, to be honest, for freedom. But ‘course they can – be together, that is. We can do what we please, despite what they’d have us believe.” And Leo’s words ring in your mind again. Perhaps everyone sees the truth of what you are except for you. The seedling grows vines, suffocates. All the hope you’d thought would live here seems to have never even existed at all. You feel, for the first time, heavy with all the things you do not know, all the things you lack, all the inexperience and naivety like ignorance thick and cloying in your blood. “From what I understand, Dina presented late, after they’d already gotten together. And by that time it was a done deal, they were in love, no going back. And anyway, they make it work, make it look easy as nothin’, to be frank.” He runs a big hand over the back of his skull, and the way he lifts his arm has the thick of his bicep bunching, fat ball of muscle just there for your teeth to sink into. You shift restlessly on the bed. 

“Easy as nothin’,” you say slowly, trying to imitate the dip and pitch of his drawl. Your fingertip follows the line of stitching in the duvet, petting at the seams holding it together. “Is that how we’ll be too?” And although you mean the words, intend the question, you’re suddenly awash with shy regret for asking, even though you can’t say exactly why. Probably for the look on his face, which goes immediately dark and serious, and even yet, you persist. “Will it be easy for us too?” And you’re sure your voice must sound like you’re begging. 

“No. It won’t. It won’t be like that between us. You’ll stay here as long as it takes for you to acclimatize to being out of that place,” that place, he says like a curse, and it makes you angry, “To bein’ out in the world, and then we’ll find somewhere for you. Somewhere that’s safe and comfortable where you’ll be able to make your own life.”

“I don’t– I don’t understand,” you tell him, but it’s a lie. You do understand, you see, and very clearly, that all you’d waited for during your life, the before, the not life, the extra year, it had all been in vain, for nothing. It would not be given to you here. 

“What don’t you understand?” And his tone is cruel and spitting, making you flinch. “I’m sending you away soon. This is what I’m saying.”

“But I don’t– No–” You’d waited so long. He’s being so mean, and you tell him so. 

“Yes. You need to be with people your own age. You need to see the world and grow up,” and what a horrible thing to say, you think – to grow up. As if it were not a thing you’d been forced to do already all on your own, without anyone to help you.

“Well then what do you care about what I need? You make no sense!” And you bare your teeth at him. “If you don’t want me–” 

But he cuts you off, broad palm held up in a staying gesture, and it’s so incongruous with all the rest of it, that you want to laugh in his face. “Didn’t say I don’t want’cha.” And that frown again, he makes no sense, the tip of his boot makes landfall in the high piled rug, halfway in, hypnotized and compelled in full. You settle on the bed and feel very calm despite the too fast beat of the thing that moves and lives within you, despite your anger and confusion. 

And through the beat and the heat and the sweat on your neck, despite the shyness you’ve forgotten is shyness right at this moment, but that you’re sure will return later because this is what you are and this is what you were made for: him. You ask, “Then are you going to knot me now?” Because if he’s going to send you away, then surely he’ll give you that before you go, surely he’ll still want that from you. 

He splutters, going all red in the face as if the notion of a young omega asking the experienced alpha she’s been presented with to do that most basic thing his nature demands, is something out of the ordinary. “What? No– no.” But despite his supposed refusal, he takes two steps forward towards you. Venturing further onto the soft piled rug, leaving large crushing footprints in his wake. 

“Later then?” You ask very pragmatically.

“No. Absolutely not. There will be no knotting.”

You shake your head at him, small frown between your brows, but still feeling calm despite the tragedy. Forcing that horrible seedling down into submission, the vines smothering all your hope. “But what do you mean?” And you feel like a child. 

“I’m not going to fuck you. We aren’t doin’ any of that. You’re too– you’re too young, practically a girl.” A child. He has an accent that thickens with agitation, the ends of his words sluicing off between his tongue and teeth and anger while he hurts you.

“You don’t want me,” you say, and it isn’t a question anymore, only an obvious thing.

His eyes go very dark, and you want to turn away, look back at the edge of the world and the bright glow of the sun being swallowed by it. “I don’t want that.” And the way he spits the words hurts, making you a thing impossible to desire.  

“You don’t want me,” again, repeated, so the both of you can bask in the truth of it. 

But it snaps something in the room, or in him, or amidst the honesty being brought out here and now. He takes two ground-eating steps forward to loom over you aggressively, forcing you to fall back on your elbows, looking up at him wide eyed but still inexplicably not afraid, only a greater thing than what can be called merely disappointed. And yet, not disappointed enough to not notice the way one of his knees presses against the inside of one of yours. “I should get to have a fucking choice too, shouldn’t I? Like you, locked away in that horrible place–”

“It wasn’t horrible,” you try and say, but you don’t think he hears.

“The way you had all your choices and freedoms stripped. Shouldn’t I also be allowed to have one single goddamn thing?” Where else would I have gone if not there? “A choice – to say, no, stop, I don’t want this.” He’s so angry, and it is all suddenly so clear, and he finally grabs you, pulling you up by the bend of your elbow, the small joint almost crushed in his massive fist to pull you halfway up off the bed and towards him, getting in your face with all his anger. 

Leo’s voice again, you don’t have to be what they tell you to be, you can choose for yourself. This is what Joel wants too. 

“You can’t end up stuck out here at the end of the world with some washed up old alpha who can’t give you a quarter of what you need and deserve. I won’t let you. I won’t,” he snarls.

But despite your greenness, your naivety or your ignorance or your youth, you think: how dare he? “And what about what I want? What about my choices? Or are you going to be just like all the rest of them? Like the whole world telling me I’m too insignificant and too stupid to decide for myself? Just locked away in another cage–” You spit at him, trying to claw and shove at him, stubby nails digging at the sun pebbled skin of his throat, yanking at his too long hair and patchy beard, inadvertently pulling yourself closer to him. He grunts, struggling to take you in hand, slippery thing you can make yourself into when you really want, and you, trying your mightiest to hurt him any way you can as he’s already decided he’s going to hurt you with his rejection. “Is that what you are? Just like all the rest of them?” You cry amidst your struggle, choked with tears and being too little to be effective but too big for your own skin. 

You shove at his jaw, trying to scratch at his cheek, but he grips you full around either arm, locking you in place and gives you a swift but measured jerk, jostling you into submission, trapping your hands bent as they are up by his neck so that one small palm is sliding to the back of his nape, over the gland behind his ear, at that soft vulnerable hollow, and coming to rest at the one in back, at the base of his neck beneath his collar. Both of you go still as stone, frozen by the truth of what you both are and how inescapable it all is, reality held in the palm of your hand.

Obvious: a designation is not a thing you can ever hide. Alphas and omegas wear it on their bodies like markers. Glands scattered at different places: behind the ears, at the base of the neck, inside the wrists and ankles; vulnerabilities that when acknowledged, bitten, seal a mating bond. Places that if handled properly, turn you into nothing but what you are at your basest nature. And you can’t help yourself – at the feel the spongy patch of skin, slightly raised and slightly rougher than the rest of him, a place that when in rut or in heat, would become, will become, extra sensitive, extra swollen, extra ripe – when you slowly slide your fingers against it, feeling the texture of it, the way it’s even hotter than the already sweltering rest of him. 

He growls low and rumbling in his chest, that sound again, and he’s so angry, it’s painted all over his face in shades of defiance; coming off of him like radiation, angry at you, angry at the truth of what you both are, angry at himself and the world and all of it, but he pulls you closer anyways, tugging your forward by his grip on your arms which is starting to mimic the ache you’re suffering at that place between your legs you long to show him, pulling you in so that the tips of your breasts, covered beneath his thick sweater and the too thin, soft bra they gave all the omegas who needed them, brush against the thick of his chest, pulling a soft breath of a moan from your tongue.

“You’re being so mean to me,” you whisper. “And I don’t deserve it. And I waited so long for you and you never came for me, and now this is how you’re treating me,” you say with a hiccup and a tear, and you feel little and big and that place that calls for him pulses and hurts and leaks. He’s so mean and you’re so sad and you want him and you can’t understand why he’s being this way when you were made for him and he for you, and if nothing else was right in this world, then this was the thing that was supposed to be. 

His eyes shift quickly back and forth between both of yours, that frown, mouth turned down, his mustache that connects to the patchiness of his beard showing how contrary he finds you. You frown back at him, trying to pull away, whining when he tightens, pulls you closer, right up to his face as if he needs to inspect you even more closely. Your toes aren’t touching the rug anymore, scraping against the thick round of his boots, and you won’t have it. You’ll give him a piece of your mind, you’ll show him. “You think that because I’m little and young and easily bruised that I’m not in control.” It’s not a question. If you could grow fangs, you would. If you could rip him to shreds, you would. “That I can’t control you. But I made you come for me, didn’t I?” Now you laugh at him, now you show him. “I knew if I wrote to you, you’d come, and you did. I made you come. I made you.” And saying it feels like victory, so you don’t care that it makes his face crack, you don’t care that he pushes away from you, letting you fall back onto the bed with a limp bounce, storming out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. You don’t give a thistle for choices. You want to be selfish, you want to be alive, you want to see the sky. You have the sea now, and you want to be this thing you are because this is already you, this is what you were made into, and you have no choice but to bask in it, and you won’t bend to him or give it up for him only because he can’t accept the same of himself, only because he’s still trapped in his own white box. 

-

He knows, as soon as you make whatever stupid decision it is that you’re making, that something’s off. A shift in the air in the house, his heart beating funny, his scent changing because his body knows you’re not in its immediate vicinity anymore, something that tells him off, off, off, be vigilant, she needs you so much, you can’t fail again. He reminds himself of all the decisions he’s already made, of what he knows he wants and does not want, of what he is and what he is not. 

After he’d stormed out of your room – I made you – he’d retreated to hide in his own bedroom, to the other big chair by the fireplace in here, cowering like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, forcing himself to listen to you cry for hours, the whine and whimper of an omega in need of something he was made to give, and yet will not. As if a little thing like you could make him do anything. Him. He grits his teeth, chews on his own tongue, digs his fingers into the arms of the chair to force himself to remain seated in place, to not return to you, to not give you all the things he knows you need and want to be soothed by. 

He can smell your scent changing already, reacting to him, reducing him to nothing, entirely effective in your conquering. And he’d stupidly thought that perhaps the heat, and the rut that it would yield, would wait, give him a moment of reprieve or compassion before it came for him. A moment to think. He thought he’d have more time, a chance to escape the thing he so desperately wants but cannot and will not let himself have, refuses to give in to. His body stirs and smolders, and like he’d done for eleven years and then one, he ignores it. He ignores the truth of who and what he really is. 

He sits in his chair, head propped up against the back, and listens to your cries and mewls ebb and quiet until finally, he thinks you might have sobbed yourself to sleep. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he doesn’t mean to hurt you. It’s the absolute last thing he could ever, ever want. Everything, not only in his nature, but in his character, in the things that make him up as a man who’d want a woman like you, is clamoring within him to go to you, to give you what you want, to sooth you with his voice and his scent and his cock. To fuck you into your heat until you’re soft and slick and fevered enough to take his knot, to let him breed you, to let him mate you. His cock stirs and thickens beneath the rough confines of his jeans, that thicket of skin at the base where his knot waits in ready for you, simmering with heat and tightness. He digs his knuckles into his temple until it hurts. 

You don’t want me… Of course he fucking wants you. He’d have taken your cunt for himself right there in that white box room, on your rickety little iron cot for all the surrounding omegas and witless betas to hear without giving a single shit what anyone said or thought if he had any sort of right or will or choice. If he had anything more to give you. And then watching you go right to sleep when he’d brought you into his home, the sight of you feeling so immediately safe and content, ready to nest amongst his things and his scent – that feeling of having within himself the things that he needs to be what he is – indescribable. 

Pretty little omega – and truly, you’re so pretty. All he’d never let himself imagine or desire or hope for. He’s too old, past his prime and forgotten by the world, but he’s still a man with a working cock, still an alpha, even if only in the simplest of ways. Of course he wants you. 

He lets himself languish miserably before the fire, eyes going hazy with exhaustion, the comedown of adrenaline, the presence of warm omega all around him, the taste of your pre-heat scent coating his tongue and throat. He pulls his socks off and lets the heat of the fire warm his feet and thinks he should’ve given you his room instead, let you sleep in his bed, near the fireplace, between his sheets and amongst his scent. He can sleep out in the dirt for all he matters as long as you’re comfortable. And the rational part of his brain wants to laugh at the thought, sitting here alone, realizing that despite his battling, his nature will always win out in the end, that all this fight really means shit. His cock gives a faint throb, his deflated knot rhythmically pulsing in time with his heart, ready to swell and claim what everyone including nature, but excluding Joel, has said belongs to him. Of course he wants you. And if he’s honest, or a fucking liar, he can’t really say which, all his truths and deceptions have become so muddled within his own mind, his past and his present and this future he’s never thought he wanted or had a right to, the year of waiting was more a form of self punishment, restraint as proof of fear, than anything to do with you. 

Anger, yes, that everything had been decided for him for so long. That he isn’t even allowed to decide what he is, what he wants. But fear, more than anything, that interminable curse of failure he’s so haunted by and so afraid of. How could nature ever look at him and think him strong enough to take on the role of caretaker, protector, alpha – whatever it is that you need him to be, the whole world in the eye of a young and untried omega – when he can hardly stand the sight of his own face in the mirror? There’s nothing but tragedy setting the stage the two of you stand posed on. 

Finally, your cries fade to soft hiccups, and then a peculiar silence he doesn't trust. He waits, ears peeled, his head turned slightly towards the cracked open door of his bedroom, sensing the shift in scent and after a few beats of too loud silence, a thud and a huff, the music of a little mind thinking too loudly and mischievously for its own good. Even the wind seems to blow differently as if it knows you’re scampering about amidst it now, vulnerable to its lashings, and he’s shooting up out of his chair and charging through the house. By the door, he realizes his boots are gone, stolen from where he’d dropped them discarded after he’d left you in your room to cry your salt tears. He forgoes a coat and his flannel, braving the icy wind in nothing but his white undershirt, stepping silent but no less frantic out onto the deck. The truck is dark and quiet, still in its usual spot, and this quells his fear minutely. It occurs to him that you likely don’t even know how to drive. 

But when he comes around the western facing corner of the house, it’s worse than he could’ve imagined, and the scar slashed across his right temple suddenly zings like copper, burns like fire at the sight of you. You are, for some inexplicable reason, crawling on all fours, towards the edge of the cliffside. And he’s frozen solid for a second, shocked and terrified, and then moving forward like lightning, tripping over his own two feet and breath before he realizes you’re right at the very edge now, and he needs to move very fucking carefully to ensure he doesnt send you spilling in fright over the edge. 

He alters his movements, continues forward slowly, his bare feet over the freezing ground and sharp bric-a-brac of the forest floor, the slabs of stone turning to ice as he nears the edge, and he watches the uncoordinated wallop of your movements, banging your knee with a small yelp, as you crawl like a slow and drunken spider in his too big clothes, dragging his too big boots around your ankles, to the very edge of the cliff side, slowly lowering yourself to plop down with your head and arms hanging over the edge. 

He pauses about ten feet away from you and waits for your next move, but you lie still, quarter part of you draped over the edge of the cliff, and he realizes that you’re watching the water far below crash against the rocks. 

“Sweetheart,” he calls slow and gentle, crouching down low so that his voice travels along the ground where you lay. “Sweetheart, what’re you doin’?” You start, turning back towards him, one palm coming to the edge of the rock to shove yourself up to peer back at him, rock pebble spraying out over the void with your movement, and his heart and stomach lurch to his throat, almost gagging at the terror. Your eyes are hazy and bright, and he recognizes the beginnings of the fever, it’s tendrils wrapping themselves around you, making you a little confused, a lot needy, and he’s so fucking stupid, he should’ve never left you alone. But he hadn’t thought it’d come on this fast, that you’d affect each other so. 

“I wanna go down there,” you call over the small hill of your shoulder, turning back to peer down at the beach. You point down at the shoreline with your other hand, wagging your finger as to emphasize what it is you want.

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s going to have a goddamn heart attack. “Alright, baby. Come back here, I’ll take you down. Let’s go together.” You mumble something, arm flopping out, waving him away. “Please, sweetheart, come back here with me,” he begs, and there must be something in his tone, he’s sure, because you turn full back at that, looking at him suspiciously like you remember his earlier words of rejection and no longer trust him now. 

“I’m glowing, sir. I need to feel the sea and the cold.” Your voice sounds not your own, like it comes surfing off the wind to his ears. 

“Not, sir. Joel. Only Joel, remember?”

You push yourself up, moving to sit back on your knees, but still right at the edge, still too close. Sweat slides slick and frigid down his spine, the complete opposite of what you must be feeling right now. Only Joel. Only Joel, he hears you mutter at the sea. “There isn’t anything only about you. Leave me alone. Go away–”

“Please, baby. Come back here. Let’s go inside, I’ll give you the sea, I promise. Just come over here – with me.” You turn back at that, shifting on your knees to face him. If you lose your balance, stumble, you’ll topple back over the edge. He just needs to be good enough for you to want to come to him, convincing enough. He puts his palm out towards you, all supplication now. “Come here, sweet thing. I’ll show you the sea, I promise I will.” You start your slow spider crawl back towards him and his scar burns, a sharp pain through his brain, piercing behind his eye, heart beat to death between his ribs. As soon as he gets his hands on you, he’s going to fucking throttle you, he promises. But he’s almost got you, and he dares not move, barely even breathes, his hand is shaking so badly it interrupts his view of you on every other painful heartbeat, and he realizes his eyes are blurry with terrified tears, and suddenly, that anger doesn’t matter even half an ounce as much anymore because then you’re here and crawling into his arms, up into his lap so that he’s falling back onto his ass on the cold, hard ground. He pulls you into himself, clumsy little spider legs wrapping around his waist, your arms going around his neck so that you’re clinging to him. 

One of his boots lies lost and discarded back by the edge of the cliff.

“Please, don’t ever fucking do that to me again.”

“I’m glowing,” you sigh into his neck.

“I know you are, baby. It’s okay, we’ll fix it.” He feels you nuzzle at his collarbone, his neck, the gland, already sensitive and swollen behind his ear, already, already, already, God help me, and his heart feels like it’s beating so hard he can feel it move through your chest cavity and reverberate against his hand on your back. Christ, it wasn't supposed to happen this quickly, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to have more time, more choices, more control. The wet of your lips mouthing at his skin, and then the peek of your tongue tasting his gland, and he rumbles deep in his chest, his mind going loose and slacken like an old rubber band, and then snapping back to clarity at your surroundings. Cold wind and now the beginning sprinkling of needle freezing rain, your shivers jittering into his chest.

“We gotta go inside – let’s get up,” he murmurs into your ear, unable to resist nosing at your hair, the small, freezing cold seashell hidden within. 

Wait, wait– and then the scrape of small, blunt edged teeth just there at the vulnerable patch of skin. He swallows a scream, and the caged thing rattles and howls inside his chest, his arms going iron and binding around your back, pressing you to him, chest melded to chest. “Wait, please,” again, and now a tiny kiss. “If you don’t want me,” and he never should’ve even insinuated it, it’s the worst thing he’s ever done in his entire miserable fucking life. “Then will you please–” another soft press of lips to his jaw, the corner of his mouth. His hand slides down your spine, he can’t help himself, presses down on the base of your vertebrae, the heat of your cunt along the pulse of his cock, through cotton and denim and cold, just there, just there, he’s so fucking close. “Will you at least kiss me–” but you’re not waiting for another rejection, you’re just licking clean across the slash of his mouth, taking his bottom lip between both of yours for a shy little suck, unsure and inexperienced with desperation. And then there’s nothing caged about any of it, no more white box, no more perch at the end of the world, he squeezes you to himself so that it hurts, and he kisses you.  

Hand twisted too tightly in your dampening hair, he pulls your head back, and with a rumbling grunt sends you deep and languid into easy submission, the steady deep timber of the sound wringing the desired effect on you. You twitch once, as if he’d tugged on your strings, his pretty puppet, and then go soft and open and easily penetrated, jaw hinging open so that he can lick inside of you, tasting all you have to offer which he refuses to accept he’s actually taking and which you’re all too desperately eager to give. 

He takes it all regardless. 

Slick mouth against slick mouth, out there in the cold rain and wind, rolling around in the dirt, he tastes you the way the two of you were made for. Pulling your hips closer, rolling his up to meet all the heat you have to offer which will only get hotter and hotter the more he continues down this path. You claw at his hair, the gland at your wrist rubbing against the one at his ear, marking him with your scent and pheromones, marking him as yours. And he swears he can almost feel that glow in your belly too, a little wriggling comet in his hands, set to burst. The crescendo of your whining climbs higher, your mouth hungrier, and Joel feels insane for a second, entirely outside of himself, lost to his senses. All he is, is what you need him to be, something hard and strong and solid for you to mold yourself around, and it’s so right it’s wrong. Not what he’d planned, not what he’d decided. 

He rips his mouth away from yours, panting, forgetting his name and his sense and everything else he is besides a hard cock and a now equally smoldering belly. “Wait– wait,” he begs, burning comet, too willful to tame without teeth, surging in his arms. You rub yourself against his face, your hair sluicing through his, your soft tits against his chest, his neck, bumping his chin while you try to climb him perched in his lap like you are. “Wait, please–” he tries to sooth over your huffing whines, and then a sharp stinging little bite to his jaw line. 

No, no. 

“Stop. We have to stop, please. This isn't what’s supposed to happen. This isn’t what I want.” And you hear that. 

The comet burns out, you go still in his arms, and it feels worse than anything. He wishes he could swallow the words back immediately because then you’re pushing back and away from him. Scrambling out of his lap, escaping his arms as fast as you can. 

“You’re horrible! Get away–” He dodges a small, kicking foot – the bootless one.  And you’re stumbling to your feet, tripping over the too big shoe wrapped around your too small foot. He pushes to stand, as well, gripping you about the elbow, avoiding a weakly punching little fist now. This is truly getting too ridiculous. The two of you need to come to terms with each other, meet in the middle, forgo the theatrics you seem all too desperate for. He ducks away from another ineffectual punch, grips you by the scruff of the neck, unruly kitten that you are, and pushing you forward, hooks you under his arm, lifting you clear off the ground and rendering you entirely captured, bent in half, a wilted flower over the strong of his forearm. 

You squawk indignantly, kicking your feet against the back of his leg as he stomps over to his abandoned boot, slowly filling with rain now, fuck this shit, and trudges through the mud back to the house, ice cold droplets dripping off the tip of his nose. The two of you are well on your way to soaked, but he thinks it might not be such a bad thing, considering the ball of heat radiating from your belly, the one in his own mimicking you. It seems to pool in the palm of his hand, where he’s got you hooked and caught over his arm, honey collection of magma.

Let me go! You’re screeching. “Leave me alone! You don’t even care about me and I hate you and I want to see the water!” More kicking and clawing.

When he finally dumps you back onto your rumpled bed, undignified yelps and pathetic little growls, he’s at his wits end. Taking you firmly in hand, heavy hand back at the nape of your neck, thickly calloused palm scraping against the quickly swelling gland there, other pushing at your hip to drape you over the edge of the bed like a rag doll, he folds himself over you, smothering you with his weight and heat, forcing you into calm. You go shocked frozen, wracked with shivers and then finally, blessedly still and quiet. This was all you needed, for Joel to follow his instincts. 

He presses you into the bed with his too heavy weight, thick arms caged around your head, pert little ass tucked up against his pelvis, and he breathes you in, lets you settle. 

“You need to behave,” he rumbles, and all you do is sigh bleary eyed and exhausted by your own willfulness. “You’re not to go outside all alone at night like that again, do you understand me? And you are especially, never, ever, to go that close to the cliff edge again.”

“But the sea–” you whine and shift, rubbing your little cunt against his now fully hard cock, perfect position that he’s got you in, presented to him like this. He presses tighter against you, growling deep in his chest to shut you up. 

“Promise me.” But you whine, shifting, starting to cry a little, too far gone to the start of the fever he’s done nothing to really sate. There’s still time yet, for your full heat, but these beginning symptoms, they need to be soothed just as well, tempered just as diligently as the full blown heat would be. If for nothing else, than for the sake of the omegas' comfort and happiness. He bends his knees, shoving the thick of his erection up against the apex of your thighs, pressing you further up onto the bed and tighter beneath him, and nosing through the mantle of your hair, he finds the gland at the back of your neck beneath the collar of his sweater and bites down gently. Not breaking skin, only giving you teeth to feel, to be soothed by, that blunt clasp that’ll dull your own sharp edges for now. 

He laves his tongue along the scorching patch of skin, the texture different to the rest of you, different, even, to his own glands, like silk, like water, something liquid about the feel of you here beneath his tongue and teeth. You let out a terrible little sound that has the threads of his control snapping, providing cause for concern, and he growls softly, pleased, in response. It’s a sound of submission and acceptance and praise, from the both of you equally, all at the same time. He lets you settle like this, petting at you with his tongue, giving you the scraping edge of his teeth like a threat, every so often. Grinding, because honestly he can’t even fucking help it, against that scorching little cunt he knows would already, even now, be so soft for him. Perhaps, not soft enough yet, not ripe enough yet, to take his knot and everything else he wants to force on it, but soft enough for him to teach you how to take a good fucking. 

A virgin, never even had a heat before, and trapped here between his teeth and beneath his cock. It would all be so easy, it would all feel so right. 

But that is, Joel thinks, just the thing of it. It would feel right – but would it be right? He can’t yet tell. 

You cloud his judgment, seduce his nature into wanting to give you everything and anything you could ever even think to ask for, and he can’t yet tell if it’s just you, that sparkle and that light and that heat like a comet that lives inside of you that he’s coming to suspect is wholly yours, nothing to do with biology or designations or markers that tell of what you should and should not be, that’s got him so desperate to please you. Or if it’s only nature, trying to force him into another choice he’s not made for himself. 

-

You wake slowly, disturbed out of your sleep the way one feels when they’re being spied on by something too large and too scary to look at right in the eye. 

You shift in the blue bed, cool and calm now, all that glowing heat from before that’d forced you out into the cold and the wind, hungry to throw yourself through space and time out into the sea, reckless and free, gone away now. All you feel as your eyes blink open slowly, is a shivery, damp cold rattling down the line of your spine. The room around you is dark, the glow of the slumbering fire out in the living room peeking in through the slightly left ajar door of your bedroom. 

He’d stayed until you’d gone boneless and calm, trapped beneath his weight and between his thick strong arms, letting you suck on the gland inside his wrist as you’d pleased. And when finally, you’d been just on this side of awake, he’d changed your clothes and slid you beneath the soft sheets and weighted duvet, and sat in the cozy sofa chair by the window until you’d been too exhausted by the embers in your tummy and the tight want between your legs to fight sleep any longer. 

The chair sits cold and empty now, and above it, the wide window, the pitch black of the world beyond is bright with unknown terrors, and you huddle into your nest of pillows and blankets, hiding beneath the edge of the duvet. 

You’d never had a window in your bunk, had not experienced the night in years and years, and looking at it now, put on display as it is through the clear pane of glass separating you from all of that unknown, you feel suddenly terrified, nothing but little. It feels as if you were to look away from it, it’d reach through the glass and pluck you out of your bed, whisk you far enough away that he’d never be able to find you, come for you again, and also, like if you don’t stop looking, it’ll eventually begin to look back. You wiggle backwards, bum finding the edge of the bed, and then sliding out, feet first, gaze still peeled on the window and the night, walking backwards out of your room and pulling the door shut on your way. At the very last moment, you peek through the sliver of the door edge and frame, nothing but your nose remaining in the blue room, and you swear the night stares back now. 

You shut the door with a snick, and turn to rush on tipped toes in search of his room. 

He’s sleeping on his back, one thick arm thrown over his head, the other laying across his belly, and you peer over the edge of the bed, hands clasped beneath your chin, watching the up and down of his breathing, the flicker of his eyes beneath his lids. He has long eyelashes and funny whiskers and hair everywhere. Under his arms, and across his chest and his belly, leading down below the sheet covering him, to the thick lump there, that place you don’t know yet, but do understand. He’s hairy, and he’s big, and the aching place you want to show him comes awake in response to all this man you have before you. And although the house is warm, the fires stoked diligently to keep you as toasty as you need, another shiver runs its way down your back. So taking hold of one of his thighs, you hoist yourself up onto his too tall bed, knobby knee stabbing him in the side as you climb on top of him, planting yourself right in the middle of his broad expanse. He gives a rough grunt, shocked awake by the little creature climbing its way all over him, hands shooting out to steady you by the hips as he jerks startled. 

“What in the Sam Hell–” You ignore his spluttering, rubbing your bottom against his stomach, finding a comfortable position to drape yourself over him, wilting like a felled weed snuggled up against his chest, tucked just below his chin, giving an entirely contented sigh when you settle. “What the fuck’re you doin’?” He has such a nasty mouth. Someone should wash it with soap for him. 

He tries to roll over, but you cling, bearing your sharp little teeth to latch at his collarbone, holding tight, refusing to be shoved away again. “M’cold–” you fuss, chewing and slobbering all over him as you pull yourself closer, hitching a knee over his hip, burrowing your foot between the bed and his back. 

“You have t’go back to your bed. You can’t sleep here.”

You whine, chewing harder, and he grumbles, but his hands slide from your hips to your back in a soothing pass and you slick your tongue against the flavors of his skin. He tastes so good, and he smells so good, and in a tiny voice you know will get you what you want, you say, “The window is too big and it’s so dark. I’m scared, alpha.”

He groans, grip going tight and strangling around you, fists bunching in the oversized clothes he’d swaddled you in after he’d dried the rain and outdoor chill off of you before putting you to bed. “Can’t I just stay here? I promise I’ll be good like you told me to,” and you nuzzle against him, making sure to thoroughly cover him in the headiness of your scent. Everything is so warm and right, and he’s so thick and comfortable and strong everywhere, perfect for laying on top of like this. The hair on his chest is prickly, tickling your face where you rub yourself against it, and he rumbles low, a deep sort of purring sound that you feel vibrate in your tummy, big wolfish man that he is, but his grip goes loose and soft after a while, stroking and soothing and petting along your slopes and planes. Convinced. Ha. 

You hold very still, breathe very slow, make sure not to spook the beast while he accepts the fact of you here atop him until he finally says, already sleepy and relaxed again, “Alright… but you’ll behave like I said.” And eventually he rolls the two of you over, little omega barnacle that you’ve turned yourself into, and tucks you into his warm side. 

The third time you wake to him, there’s fire everywhere. And an ache in your womb so sharp it sends shivers through your whole body. You cling and grind and tremble; forget your name, where you are, nothing more than that sticky throb in that place that you want to give to him so, so badly. 

He’s draped atop you, heavy arm caging you in, thick chest covering your back, smothering you between incredible strength and, soft, Joel smelling sheets. You cup the ball of his bicep, it’s big and hard and hot, and drag your palm along the thick slope. He’s so strong, he could crush you, hurt you, make you into anything he wanted, and you want all those things, you think. You want him to do whatever he wants if only he’ll make the ache go away. Fire and glowing bright heat everywhere, most of all your belly, your heart, somewhere so deep inside you’d never known it existed until he’d come and made you aware of it. 

Your fingers slide along his wide forearm, hairy here too, thick wrist, hard, strong bone beneath, and then the soft spot on the inside that belongs to you now. You stick your tongue out, tasting the spongy patch, scraping your teeth along it. If you bite him, you’ll be able to keep him forever, he won’t be able to send you away, but there still remains – even if just for a little bit longer, before the heat you’ve been waiting your whole life and a year for to finally take you – a part of you that’s still rational, head only halfway gone to the clouds. That part which reminds you that more than anything, you want him to choose you. Without the bite as a deal breaker, bond sealer, only because he wants you, only because he likes you. 

But you can taste him, it doesn’t mean you have to bite him, and you the tip of run your tongue along the inside of his wrist, gently suckling at his gland, the flavor of him so much stronger here, as if his essence is more concentrated at this small place. And the ache between your legs, in your tummy, deepens, spreads and blooms and ravages. The inside of you feels sensitive and swollen and big and little all at once, and you shift your bottom, trying to rub yourself back up against him, your sucking mouth pulling sharper, a whine bubbling in your throat because you need something, something more, and you think you know, and you know you understand, but you’re not sure, and if he could just wake up and show you it would all be so much better.

You press back harder, arching so that the aching place feels the heat of him behind you, that hard ridge there that makes your heart pound all through your body. You’d shucked off your leggings and the sweater he’d put you in through the night, too hot and sweaty with the big beast smothering you as he’d been, so now you’re left in nothing but one of his too big t-shirts and the soft, cotton white panties all the omegas always wore. You whine again, gnawing on his wrist for real now, and a big paw of a hand comes up to wrap around your hip, stilling your wriggling. You feel him lean closer, burying his face in the back of your hair, groaning, hot bullish breath fanning across your nape. He rumbles deep and it only makes you feel worse, more desperate, more hungry for that thing you don’t know how to ask for. You want to cry his name, beg him, but your tongue feels fat and swollen inside your mouth, too full of blazing heat to form actual words. He just has to know, he just has to be able to tell. 

“I know,” he mumbles against your nape, nosing around to your ear where he presses his mouth. “I know, it’s alright.” You gurgle again, pulling his wide palm to cover your face completely, nuzzling against his rough palm, muffling your pathetic animal sounds of supplication. It’s okay, it’s okay, you can hear him murmuring and you’re not sure who the words are for, but you feel certain they’re not for you. He’s scared, you know this. Between all the things you’re so uncertain of, this you’re sure of. He’s afraid, and it’s your job to reassure him, to show him how well it will all be once the two of you come together. 

You push your face harder into his palm, and you feel him hook his fingers into the elastic of your panties, tugging the soft fabric wide, tugging them down your legs, and there’s that same need, yes, that comet bright glowing heat, but also, and something you can recognize as more your usual self, a desperate sort of shyness. Something coming unraveled and unspooled for the whole world, him, to see. You can feel the slick uncoveredness at the apex of your thighs, running down your legs, a blossom of heat and vulnerability there at that place, the core of you, and it doesn’t feel shameful, necessarily, but painfully exposed. Your softest place bared for him to see. And yet, alongside that, the knowledge that this soft place is only for him, that you only ever want it to be for him, and so this can, again, be nothing but right. 

“Look at all this slick you’ve made for me, what a sweet girl you are.” There’s such reassurance in the timber of his voice, it makes the heat change, something swirling but steady, constant. You spread your own palm against the back of his hand covering your face, line your fingers along the backs of his, little and big, matched alongside each other, and you press his fingers against your forehead, squishing your nose against his palm, Hiding there in the cup of his hand from the whole world and him, waiting for this truth of yourself to finally be revealed to you. 

His palm strokes along your bare thigh, I know, I know, he keeps saying, and they’d told you all that your alphas would know, that they’d show you, and there’s reassurance in this, that some part of what’s happening is unfolding as they said it would. It makes you feel not so small, not so untried and naive. You try and lay as still as possible, willing the flames into patience, breathing in your own hot breath from the cup of his palm. I know it hurts, we’ll make it better, I promise. He shifts behind you, the rustling of fabric, and then his hand on your bottom again, moving in a slow circular motion, steady and reassuring. He moves to your leg again, lifts it and then something hot and hard and big, coming to rest on your inner thigh, and he lets your leg down, starts the soothing rub of your bottom again. 

“We’re gonna go so slow, alright. Only a little at a time and not the whole thing today. We gotta wait for your heat to settle in all the way, time it all right so that my rut doesn’t start before you’re ready to take me. How does that sound, sweetheart?” But your tongue is still fat, your words still jumbled and missing, and all you really want to ask is if he’s changed his mind now, if he’s finally decided he wants you, and you think you’re crying, sipping salt water from the palm of his hand. “I know I wasn’t how you needed me yesterday, and I’m sorry for that.” He presses his forehead against the back of your shoulder, hand sliding up your hip to your waist, dragging his shirt along as he goes, uncovering you for himself. And you feel so intensely, that you belong to him, and you can’t understand how he could have ever not felt the same way. 

You hitch an agonized little sob, muffled by his hand, and he rolls slightly so you’re half draped atop his chest, his palm rubbing soothing circles low on your belly now. And forcing you out of your hiding place, he pulls your face back to look at him, gripped around your jaw. His face is very serene, and this settles you, makes the words he’s saying clearer, more meaningful. “Can you hear me silly thing, or can all you think about is taking a cock right now?” You scrunch your nose at him, you know that word, it’s his hard thing between your legs. 

“It’s so heavy, alpha,” you sniffle, feeling the weight of it pressing against you there. 

He nods, warm look in his eyes that crease at the edges. “That’s how it’s going to feel inside you, baby.”

“The knot?” A seedling blooms again, this one very different now, full of hope once more. You realize you’ve found your missing words. 

He shakes his head, not yet, and drags his palm up the inside of your thigh, squeezing and kneading as he goes, and you want to complain that he moves so slow, that he needs to do something else, you don’t know what, but something. You want to click your teeth at him, bite him again, anything to make him go. 

And then: “Drippy little girl,” and he’s finally there and a moan that’s almost a scream because he’s cupping a place that is so unbearably sensitive and raw and full of heat and wet like you’d never known was possible. 

Oh, oh, ah, ah, ah. “It’s alright,” he says, rubbing gently back and forth, a slick sound that is loud and embarrassing coming from between your legs. “It’s alright. This’ll help for now. We won’t go inside.” And he grips the heavy thing, his cock, in his own palm that’s all slick from your leaking and presses it against you. He rolls over completely now, shifting higher in the bed so that you’re sitting full on top of him, back to chest, bum to belly, and he spreads your thighs wide with his other hand, pulling your shirt up to bare all your nakedness for him to see. You wonder if he can also see all that burning shyness you’re suddenly so chock full of. 

“Look at these pretty little tits,” he murmurs, cupping one small morsel in his palm, squeezing so that you’re arching against him, mouth agape like a fish, trying to find sounds that seem to have suddenly gone missing once again. “That’s right, I know.” He moves to the other one, squeezes and pinches and shakes it so that it jiggles in the cup of his hand. All the while he strokes his cock between your legs, pulling his hips back every so often so that it slides against you, coating it in all that wet slick you’re spilling for him. 

You look down at the place where it juts out between your thighs, and it’s so big. Dark and angry looking at the end, thick and covered in veins that make it look even angrier and about to burst. You ask him if it hurts him, and he laughs a little and says it isn’t anything you can’t fix which makes you seven different shades of pleased. 

The hand at your breasts moves up to your face again, and he turns your head, searching for your eyes. “We started off badly yesterday, yes? But we’re gonna do better today. I promise.” He slides his hips back again and this time he presses harder against you, his hand flat against the underside of his cock so that the top is slicking all along you. Sensitive little cunt, he says when you tremble and shiver and keen, and that’s when you know that’s what it's called. Your cunt. That place that belongs to him, that you want to give him so badly, that you want him to want so badly but that you barely even know yourself. No more experience than the greedy, frantic digging at the soft, hot flesh beneath your hand in moments when everything had felt too tight and needy to do anything else. 

“Gonna break you in so well, baby. Gonna teach you how to come, how to fuck, how to take a knot.” And now the wide head presses against you, against a place that is so, so incredibly sensitive it almost hurts. You suck in a sharp gasp, trying to jerk away from the hurt, but he holds you in place against him, presses again, yeah, I know, yeah I know, like he’s trying to put it inside you, and yes, you think that’s what it is, that’s what you need, even if it might hurt. “You’re gonna get everything you need jus’ from me,” and his words are slurred and dripping slacken from his tongue. 

He starts to move faster, you think he’s swallowed the same stone of desperation you did, rough grunts and huffing pants, and “So fucking small, it’ll never fit.” Jesus fucking Christ. And on every slick slide forward that wide angry head of it, his cock, bumps the crest of your sex, catches at your hole. You watch it in shock as it presses in just a little, and it hurts and feels like you’re full of bubbles and everything is sticky and your tummy glows with heat. 

“Your little cunt needs this,” he grunts, the head catches, he presses, presses, pulls away, you want to bite and scratch and demand he go all the way, and you’re nothing but a pounding heart and a clenching cunt and you want more, and when he slides again it notches full on at the tiny opening, he pauses, lets it rest there before he presses not even half a centimeter further, only giving you the wide stretch of it, letting your cunt flutter and grip around the very head. 

“Look at that–” And he peers over your shoulder to look at what he’s doing to you. “Look at your tiny cunt stretching for me.”

You cry, trying to pull away, trying to shove yourself deeper, to take the whole of it like the greedy thing you are, but he holds you in place and lets you flutter and flutter and cry until something in your womb pulls tight, and with his fingers swirling at the apex of your sex, the little nub that is so sensitive it pulls a warbled, baying moan from your tongue, an ah, ah, ah, he gives you your first orgasm with him. A desperate thing, too much and not enough, and with his other hand he’s squeezing, shoving his fist along the rest of the length of his cock, pressing it hard where you meet, and then he’s feeding you a blazing heat, filling you with it, stirring your insides to flutter and shiver harder. Forcing you to cry and beg for more, “Please, please, please,” more.

“You’re not ready yet.”

And although you’re not entirely certain for what, you promise, “I am, I am, I can take it.” You know he’s supposed to put it all the way inside, that then, the knot will come. And although you’re unsure what it will specifically be like, what will become of you during or after, you know you’re ready to discover it all. 

“Not yet.” And he’s grunting it through clenched teeth, his hips churning, spitting tip grinding at your hole, something hot and thick sliding wetly all over and between the two of you. “You’ll do as I say. Your little cunt needs this, needs me to be patient with her.”

He lets the slick weight of himself fall away from you, leaving you feeling stretched and bruised and all shivery on the inside, yet still hungry for more. And he pulls his hands along the slopes of you, leaving trails of sticky wet along your skin. The proof of all you are, invisible but tangible, with a taste and a smell and a feel. 

You lay your head back on his shoulder, the heat swirls and simmers for now, and your cunt, your cunt, your cunt, you want to give it to him in full, it throbs and trembles against his slick cock. “I’ve never had a heat before,” you tell him although you know he knows. He probably knows everything there is to know about you, which, admittedly, is not much. 

“That's alright.”

“It will come soon, yes?” You peer over your shoulder to look up at him, and he nods down at you, that warm, eye creased look on his face again. You like the sight of it so much. 

“Will I go away from myself?”

“No,” he says gentle, “I won’t let you. I’ll keep you here with me. You have nothing to be anxious about.”

He rolls the two of you over, keeping you in the comfort of his embrace, and he’s huge and steaming and naked behind you. His hairy chest, his hairy legs all along the smooth and sensitive curves of you. And his thing, it’s still trapped between your thighs, heavy and sticky with your wet, and still kind of hard but not as much as before. You reach between your legs to touch it, and he jerks and hisses but lets you do as you please. Curious fingertips gently along the thick round end of it, down the long length to find two heavy and hot weights hanging lower. 

“Where is the knot?” You ask uncertainly, shy with all the things you don’t know. 

“Here,” and he grabs your hand, moving your fingers to the base of it where there’s an area of skin, of a different sort of texture, rougher, thicker, around the circumference of it. You prod gently at it, not understanding. “See, it’ll swell when it’s inside of you, and then we’ll stay connected for a time, and I’ll fill you, and that’ll help your heat. And after a while it’ll go down, until you need it again. Did they explain to you how it’ll happen?” His cock is thick between your thighs again, beneath your exploring fingers. A little harder and bigger than it was before. His body, something like a wonderful miracle you need to know everything there is to know about it.

“Yes, but not– not all the way, I don’t think. They said you’d show me.” You turn back to look at him, searching for confirmation, reassurance, but instead ask: “Why did you change your mind?” And finally, of his own choosing, he grips you by the throat, and presses a small kiss to your mouth. The greatest victory of the day, and it’s only just begun. 

“It’s exhausting, not letting yourself have what you need.” Need, not want. He shifts over you, coming up on his elbow and rolling you so that you’re on your back and looking up at him. You bring your fingers up to explore along his face: the hooked nose, soft mouth, heart brandished beard. He sighs that bull sigh, and you giggle as it tickles your throat and cheeks. Need, not want. That stings. “Fighting against what you are constantly– and you reminded me that we still have control in what we are. That there’s still choice in this, decidin’ to be what we are without resenting it. And we need each other, after all.” Need, not want. 

“I don’t think you need me.”

“No?”

“No.” The truth that you very much feel like you need him, you keep to yourself. And anyways, he knows. You know he knows. 

“M’thinkin’ I didn’t know I did. Or couldn’t say it out loud.” And he mimics your exploring fingers: thumb against the fan of your lashes, up the slope of your cheekbone, prying your mouth open to catch the edge of your bottom teeth and look inside. There’s a warm look in his eyes, like he’s pleased with you, like you’ve done a good job. “Think I’m realizin’ how wrong I was. How I want this all too.” 

Want, not need. 

He bends his head and kisses your mouth, kisses your breast, shows you how much he wants it.  

3. I Was a Child Once, I’m Not Any Longer

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