Alpha!Grace who keeps himself so very restrained and controlled and repressed that most people think he’s a beta; after years of this he has a mental block about engaging in any dominant or alpha-like behavior, so when omega!Reader goes into heat on the Hail Mary she has to help him get that self-control to break so he can actually scent and knot her properly (could be a fuck or die situation?) and maybe it works a little too well and she triggers his first rut after years of suppressants and his sweet words slowly turn into “oh but isn’t this cock what you were begging for?? No no, you can take it, I’ll give you what you need”
YEAH BABY THATS WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT
Ryland knew something was different with you before you even knew.
The tight confines of the ship didn’t leave much room for privacy, and when you’re on a 4 year trip to an alien planet, one would think you’d know a person pretty well.
Your scent was off… sweeter, more intoxicating than ever before.
Ryland knew what that meant- deep in the recesses of his mind, he dreaded what that meant.
The scientist was an alpha, a fact that you’d known for a while. Not after finding out yourself, no. Ryland was the one to tell you. When the pair of you expected to die in space, he had an urge to just tell someone. Anyone.
It wasn’t a commonly known fact about him; he kept his urges and secondary gender on a tight leash. That information was on a need-to-know basis. For the most part, he presented as a beta. He never exuded any kind of alpha tendencies- no dominance, no heightened aggression, no overpowering smell (scent patches) and most importantly, no ruts. It took a lot of mental training and heavy suppressant doses to get where he was.
He felt comfortable telling you all about it because it didn’t matter in the long run anyway. You were close friends after going through hell together, so it was only fair that you knew.
You hadn’t treated him any different when he’d told you, only nodding in understanding (to be fair though, you sort of expected something was up- beta’s don’t usually wear scent patches). It helped him sleep easier knowing that you knew, for some reason.
It shouldn’t have mattered, his biology. He’d mentally squashed his alpha side so deeply and been on suppressants for so long that he was sure he would never have to deal with those unwanted urges again. By the time his suppressants ran out, the two of you were supposed to be dead. Except now, you were both shaping up to spend the rest of your lives together on an alien planet.
And then you started to smell like warm, goopy honey.
You were on heat suppressants the second you’d woken up from your coma and had regularly been taking them ever since. But the Hail Mary hadn’t planned on its crew surviving for so long. You’d run out of the little pill a month ago and it seemed your heat was eminent. And boy, was it going to be a doozy. Your 4 year coma and many months more on constant suppressants meant this heat had been building ever since you’d left Earth. A dangerous thing, heats, when your body goes so long without one.
Only one thing would truly satisfy you when you reached that point, and Ryland was the only person who could give you that relief (if it was even possible for him to have a regular rut anymore).
Except he couldn’t.
Ryland hadn’t popped a knot in nearly two decades and he had no intentions of breaking that streak. His stubborn mind refused to even consider the idea.
Or, it hadn’t, until you started mewling at him from the crew’s quarters while he ran some random Taumoeba tests to keep himself busy.
Rocky was sleeping in his section of the lab, immobile and blissfully unaware of the sharp, heady tension in the air.
“R-Ry? Are you there? Can you come here?”
Your voice was so sweet and alluring- a sirens call to that voice he’d locked in a tight box in his mind. Ryland didn’t respond and tried to ignore the whimpers and whines you expressed.
“Please, baby? I need help.”
You’d never called him that before. You were friends, nothing more. That was just your omega speaking.
Shaking his head, he continued peering into the microscope until you let out a genuine whimper of pain. “It hurts.”
He should’ve stayed away. It was a dangerous game he was playing. He was out of suppressants too and it was possible you could trigger a rut. But he couldn’t leave you to suffer alone. Omega’s craved companionship, especially during heats. He was all you had. He could at least have the decency to keep you company.
The further into the ship he went, the heavier his eyelids became. Your scent was so thick in the air he could taste it. He had to quench a purr in his chest.
The scene he walked into did nothing to help.
You were on your bunk, sweating and curled up in your tiny, makeshift nest.
Ryland’s cock twitched in his pants at the slick he could smell in the air. The nape of his neck began tingling and the tiny hairs there stood on end.
You noticed his presence, probably smelled him, and reached out in his direction. “Alpha, please~.”
He didn’t dare get any closer. “I’m a beta, (Y/n), remember? I can’t give you what you need.”
‘But you could,’ his brain reminded him.
You didn’t seem to understand what he’d said. You weren’t in your right mind. “Need you, Ry. Need your knot.”
Your scent was pumping out of you in droves and Ryland’s head was starting to get fuzzy. He didn’t even realize he’d stepped up next to your bed until you were trying to fish his achingly hard cock out of his pants. The scientist snatched your hand and laced your fingers together to keep the digits occupied and away from where they were trying to go.
You didn’t seem to mind the distraction, tugging his wrist to your nose and breathing in the scent that you shouldn’t be able to smell. Beta’s didn’t have a scent, not a strong one, and you’d never made any indication that you could smell him besides the scent of his clothes. But from the way you were snuffing at his wrist, he worried that maybe you were smelling something.
As you began rubbing his wrist over your neck, entwining your scents together, Ryland truly realized he was in trouble.
The mental image of you wanton, drooling and needy for his knot had him gripping the edge of your bunk with his free hand, head hung low. When you emerged from your thin blankets (naked, he quickly realized) to tear off the scent patches on either side of his neck with your teeth, tucking your face in close to nip at the sensitive glands, something snapped.
A growl, low and deep, rumbled in his throat. It terrified him. You wanted more.
By the time you were presenting your sex to the cold ship air, slick drooling from your pussy, Ryland was already tearing his own clothes off and clamoring onto the bed.
Hormones he hadn’t felt in ages were flooding his body and he had tunnel vision. The only thing he cared about in that moment was grabbing your hips and getting to work.
A deep, repressed part of him that he never thought he’d see again completely took over.
Your pussy was begging for him and he wasted no time sinking into your heat. It was wet and hot, pulling him deeper with every pulse.
He tried to talk sweet at first- praising you for taking him so well without any preparation- but that more dominant, alpha side of him decided you didn’t need nice. You wanted his knot so bad? You could have it.
You became a drooling mess underneath him, head pressed firmly onto the mattress thanks to his hand that he clasped over the back of your neck to keep you pinned and to keep himself steady as he pistoned.
Your hips stayed perfectly raised despite the pounding, a perfect omega- all for him.
The begging plea for his cock that you’d expressed earlier turned into overstimulated whimpers the longer he drilled into you.
“What’s wrong, omega? I thought you wanted this? I thought you needed this?” You clenched around him at the demeaning words. “You begged for my knot so you’ll get it. You’ll take it nice and easy, won’t you?”
You could barely nod under the delicious pressure he pressed against your neck.
Ryland genuinely couldn’t remember much of what happened after that. His knot appeared after years of dormancy, eager to lock the two of you together. You were crying, he was crying. The canines that he’d had shaved down were still sharp enough to puncture your delicate skin in a claiming mark, interweaving your souls in a way neither of you were prepared for.
When your heat muddled mind cleared a bit and the fog over Ryland’s eyes lifted- when the two of you woke up spooning tightly with his softened cock buried in your sex and a mess of fluid between your legs- neither of you knew what to say. The one thing that ran through both of your minds was a simple “uh-oh”.
repressed alpha ryland GIVE HIM TO ME. chat was this cringe
