She was precise. Structured. Intentionally organized.

Which was why she was currently staring at her half-empty locker at work with visible suspicion.

Her favorite navy hoodie was gone.

Not “I forgot it at home” gone.

Gone gone.

She distinctly remembered shoving it into her bag after her shift two days ago. She remembered because one of the other nurses had tried to steal it for being “criminally comfortable,” and Dana had mock-threatened HR involvement.

It never made it back to her closet.

And it wasn’t just that hoodie.

One of her long sleeves? Missing.

Her old academy T-shirt she only wore to sleep? Vanished.

Two couch blankets? Nowhere to be found.

Dana slowly shut her locker.

“…That’s weird.”

She didn’t live with a thief.

She lived with you.

Her omega.

And you were many things — clingy when sleepy, dramatic when hungry, stubborn when flustered.

But you were not a criminal mastermind.

Still…

This was suspicious.

---

Meanwhile, at Home

You were absolutely not suspicious.

You were thriving.

Because you were nesting.

Which was completely, biologically, instinctually justified.

It had started small.

Just borrowing her hoodie one night because you couldn’t settle. Then folding one of her shirts into your pillowcase because it smelled stronger. Then dragging one of the couch blankets into the bedroom “just for comfort.”

But your instincts had escalated quickly.

Restless. Clingy. Sensitive.

Your body wanted safety.

Your brain wanted scent.

Your instincts wanted alpha.

Dana’s scent was grounding — warm cedar and clean soap and something uniquely her. It wrapped around you like security.

So you built.

In the corner of the bedroom, near the wall where it felt safest, you had constructed something that could only be described as a fabric fortress.

Pillows layered like insulation.

Blankets curved protectively around the sides.

Soft clothing woven in between for scent reinforcement.

Structural integrity mattered.

And at the center?

The navy hoodie.

You were currently wearing it, sleeves swallowing your hands, nose buried in the collar as you adjusted one of the “walls.”

Her long sleeve had excellent tensile strength, thank you very much.

You stepped back to admire your work.

It was warm. Safe. Perfect.

You crawled inside and sighed contentedly.

---

Later That Evening

The front door clicked open.

Dana stepped inside, immediately pausing.

Her alpha senses flared.

The air was thick.

Not just faintly scented.

Concentrated.

Her scent.

Everywhere.

Her eyebrows lifted slowly.

She set her bag down and moved down the hallway quietly, following the scent trail like it was physically tugging her forward.

“Babe?” she called casually.

You froze.

Mid-tuck.

You had just repositioned her academy shirt to reinforce the left side.

“…Yes?” you replied, voice a little too high.

Dana stepped into the bedroom.

And stopped dead.

There you were.

In the corner.

Inside what looked like a very intentional nest.

Made entirely of her missing belongings.

Her eyes scanned.

Blanket.

Hoodie.

Long sleeve.

Academy shirt.

Second blanket.

Her jaw went slack.

“…Is that my hoodie?”

You blinked up at her, wrapped in said hoodie like a small guilty marshmallow.

“Maybe.”

“And my blanket.”

“Possibly.”

“And that’s definitely my academy shirt.”

You tugged it closer protectively. “You don’t even wear that one.”

Dana stared.

At you.

At the nest.

At the blatant evidence of hoodie theft.

And then it clicked.

Her posture softened instantly.

“Oh.”

Her voice dropped, warmer now.

“You’re nesting.”

You avoided eye contact, cheeks heating. “It just… happened.”

Dana stepped closer slowly, alpha instincts shifting from confusion to affection in seconds.

“That’s where everything’s been going.”

You mumbled defensively, “You weren’t using it.”

“You stole three blankets.”

“You have more.”

“Two hoodies.”

“You look good in the gray one anyway.”

Dana bit the inside of her cheek to stop from smiling.

Because this?

This was possibly the most omega thing you had ever done.

She crouched beside the nest, brushing her fingers over the edge carefully.

“You could’ve asked.”

You frowned slightly. “It feels better when it’s instinctual. If I ask, it feels… planned.”

That made sense.

Nesting wasn’t logical. It was instinct-driven. Protective. Vulnerable.

Dana’s alpha side practically purred at the sight of you wrapped in her scent like you’d claimed her back.

“Are you mad?” you asked quietly.

Dana’s head snapped toward you.

“Mad?”

She leaned forward and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to your temple.

“You built a comfort nest out of my clothes because you need my scent.”

Her voice dropped softer.

“That’s the opposite of mad.”

Your shoulders visibly relaxed.

She brushed her fingers down your spine soothingly.

“You should’ve told me you were feeling nesty.”

You muttered into her hoodie, “Didn’t realize how bad it was until your hoodie was already in here.”

Dana huffed a quiet laugh.

“Unbelievable.”

You peeked up at her cautiously.

“You can come in. If you want.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Am I allowed inside my own stolen property?”

You scooted over, patting the space beside you.

“Only if you bring reinforcements.”

Dana’s smile turned soft and fond.

“Oh, we’re reinforcing?”

“If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

---

Five Minutes Later

Dana returned with:

• Another hoodie

• Two more long sleeves

• A worn sleep shirt

• Her heavy comfort blanket

• And, for good measure, one of her pillowcases

Your eyes widened.

“Dana—”

She knelt beside the nest like she was preparing for a tactical operation.

“Structural upgrades.”

She layered the heavier blanket across the back wall, anchoring it securely. She tucked one of her hoodies near the base, scent strongest.

Then she crawled inside.

The space immediately felt smaller.

Warmer.

Safer.

You didn’t hesitate.

You curled against her chest instantly, nose pressing into her collarbone, breathing her in like you needed it.

Dana wrapped both arms around you automatically, chin resting atop your head.

Her alpha instincts settled completely.

Content.

Protective.

Claiming.

“Next time,” she murmured into your hair, “tell me.”

You hummed sleepily. “Didn’t want you to think I was weird.”

Dana tightened her hold slightly.

“You’re my omega.”

Her voice was firm but gentle.

“You could build a nest out of my entire wardrobe and I’d still hand you more.”

You smiled softly.

“…Can I keep the navy hoodie?”

Dana pressed a kiss into your hair.

“You can keep all of them.”

You melted.

But she wasn’t done.

She leaned back slightly, brushing her thumb under your chin to make you look at her.

“Although,” she added casually, “if you keep stealing my clothes, I’m going to have to start wearing your sweaters.”

You gasped.

“You wouldn’t.”

She smirked.

“Try me.”

You immediately burrowed deeper into the nest defensively.

“Fine. You can have one hoodie back.”

Dana laughed quietly.

“Keep them. I like knowing my scent is all over you.”

That sent a small shiver down your spine.

She noticed.

Of course she did.

Her voice softened again.

“Does it help?”

You nodded.

“Feels safe.”

Dana’s expression shifted — pride and tenderness mixing together.

“Good,” she whispered. “That’s the point.”

She adjusted the blanket around both of you, sealing the nest walls more securely.

Outside the fabric fortress, the world could be loud and demanding and chaotic.

But in here?

It was warm.

It was steady.

It was hers and yours.

Dana pressed one last lingering kiss to your forehead.

And honestly?

She’d never felt more proud of losing her laundry.

TAGLIST:

You knew it was a bad idea the second you woke up.

Actually, no. You knew it was a bad idea the second your body decided to betray you at six in the morning, somewhere between your alarm going off and your face meeting the pillow again.

Your skin felt too warm. Your head was heavy. Every sound seemed louder than usual. And your scent... Oh, brilliant. Your scent had gone sweet. Not subtle sweet. Not “maybe it is just perfume” sweet.

No.

This was full omega-disaster sweet. Like honey, warm skin, and very poor life choices.

You lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling of your hotel room. “No,” you whispered to your own body.

Your body, being extremely disrespectful, ignored you. You had a job. A race weekend. Meetings. Media prep. Garage duties. A paddock full of people with noses that worked far too well.

And worse — Toto. Alpha Toto Wolff. Team Principal. Walking authority figure. Almost two meters of Austrian control issues and expensive suits.

Also, unfortunately, the man your omega instincts had selected months ago like some deeply embarrassing biological shopping cart.

You were doomed. Completely doomed.

Still, because denial was a perfectly valid strategy if you applied enough confidence, you got up, showered, drowned yourself in scent blockers, tied your hair back, put on your Mercedes team kit, and looked at yourself in the mirror.

“You are fine,” you told your reflection.

Your reflection looked pale, overheated, and deeply unconvinced.

“Rude,” you muttered.

By the time you reached the paddock, you had decided on a simple plan. Avoid Alphas. Avoid enclosed spaces. Avoid Toto.

Very reasonable. Very achievable. Completely impossible.

Because the second you stepped into the Mercedes hospitality, you heard his voice. Low. Calm. Sharp.

“Where is she?”

You froze. Because of course he was already asking about you. The man could sense operational chaos from three continents away.

You turned slowly, hoping to escape through pure invisibility. Sadly, you were not invisible.

Toto stood near the entrance to the garage, wearing black trousers, a white Mercedes shirt, and an expression that suggested he had already found twelve problems before breakfast.

Then his eyes landed on you. Everything in him stilled. You saw it. The tiny shift in his shoulders. The slight lift of his chin. The way his gaze sharpened as if the whole paddock had disappeared and only you remained.

Alpha.

Your omega went very quiet. Then immediately started screaming.

Toto inhaled once. Barely.

Your stomach dropped.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

His eyes darkened.

You smiled like an idiot. “Morning.”

His gaze moved over your face. Too pale. Too warm. Too tense. Then lower, to the scent blocker patch badly hidden under your collar.

His jaw tightened. “Office,” he said.

You blinked. “Good morning to you too.”

“Now.”

You crossed your arms, which was difficult because your body wanted to walk toward him like he was gravity in a headset.

“I have things to do.”

“You have a temperature.”

“I have ambition.”

“You are shaking.”

“I am passionate about motorsport.”

His mouth flattened. Several mechanics nearby became extremely interested in their laptops.

Toto took one step closer. Not enough to crowd you. Enough for your instincts to notice.

Unfortunately, your instincts noticed everything about him. His warmth. His scent beneath the clean fabric and expensive cologne. Cedar, rain, coffee, something darker and steadier that always made your chest loosen. Home.

No. Absolutely not.

Your brain slammed a metaphorical door shut.

Toto’s voice softened, which was somehow worse. “Little one...”

You hated that. You loved that. You were in danger.

“I am fine,” you said.

He looked at you for three long seconds. Then he turned his head slightly. “Bradley.”

“Yes?” Bradley appeared with the speed of a man who knew better than to ignore Toto Wolff during a crisis.

“She is unavailable until further notice.”

Your mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

Bradley looked from you to Toto, then wisely decided he valued living. “Of course.”

“I am very available,” you protested.

Toto did not look at Bradley anymore. His eyes stayed on you. “No, you are not.”

You laughed once, sharp and nervous. “You cannot just remove me from the weekend because you have decided to be bossy.”

“I can.”

“Toto.”

“I am your boss.”

“That argument is deeply annoying.”

“I am also your Alpha.”

The words were quiet. Your breath caught. The garage sounds seemed to blur around you. Nobody had heard him. You knew nobody had heard him. But your body reacted as if he had spoken directly against your skin.

Your Alpha.

The problem was, he wasn’t wrong. Not officially. Not publicly. Not in any way that could be explained on a PR document without Bradley Lord developing a medical condition.

But privately? Emotionally? Instinctively? Yes. He had been your Alpha long before either of you admitted it. In the way he always noticed when you forgot to eat. In the way he stood between you and aggressive journalists without even thinking. In the way his hand hovered at your lower back in crowds, not touching unless you needed him to, but always there. In the way your omega settled whenever he entered a room.

You swallowed. “Toto,” you said again, much quieter.

His expression changed. The authority stayed. The concern cut through it. “You should have told me.”

“I thought I could manage it.”

His brows lifted slightly. “During a Grand Prix weekend?”

“Yes.”

“With thirty cameras, twelve Alphas in the paddock, and Christian Horner existing as a general public health hazard?”

Despite yourself, you snorted. “That last one is unrelated.”

“It is never unrelated.”

You pressed your fingers to your temple. “I did not want to be a problem.”

That did it. His face hardened. Not at you. For you. “You are not a problem.”

“Toto—”

“No.” His voice dropped. “You are not a problem because your body needs care. You are not a problem because your heat is early. You are not a problem because you are omega.”

Your throat tightened. Stupid hormones. Stupid Alpha. Stupid beautiful man with his stupid emotional competence.

“I just didn’t want people to know,” you whispered.

Toto looked around once. Everyone immediately discovered urgent tasks elsewhere. Impressive, really. The man could clear a room with one eyebrow. Then he held out his hand.

You stared at it.

“You are coming with me,” he said.

“I can walk by myself.”

“I know.”

“You are still holding your hand out.”

“Yes.”

You looked at his hand again. Large. Warm. Steady.

A very bad idea. Your omega strongly disagreed. Your omega had already packed a suitcase and moved in.

You placed your hand in his. Toto’s fingers closed around yours. Instant calm moved through your body. Not enough to fix the heat. Enough to make you breathe.

His thumb brushed once over your knuckles. “Good girl,” he murmured.

Your knees nearly filed a formal resignation. “Do not do that in public,” you hissed.

His mouth twitched. “There she is.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you do not.”

“I strongly dislike your accuracy.”

“That is closer.”

He led you through the back corridors, away from the garage, the noise, the cameras, the mess of scents and bodies and stress. You were grateful for the quiet before you could admit you were grateful.

By the time you reached his private office, your skin felt hotter. Your scent blocker was failing. You knew it because Toto went very still the second he closed the door behind you.

The room was small, clean, and painfully him. Laptop on the desk. Race notes. Bottled water. Neatly folded team jacket. Everything controlled. Except the Alpha standing in front of the door, looking at you like control had become a personal insult.

You wrapped your arms around yourself. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you are about to start a war.”

“I am considering it.”

“Toto.”

His eyes flicked to your throat. You felt your pulse jump there.

“Who noticed?” he asked.

“No one.”

His stare said: try again.

You sighed. “Maybe George looked confused.”

“George always looks confused before coffee.”

“Kimi asked if I changed perfume.”

Toto’s jaw worked. You pointed at him. “Do not growl.”

“I did not growl.”

“You were thinking about it.”

“That is not illegal.”

“It should be in your case.”

He moved closer, slowly enough that you could step back. You didn’t. Because you were an idiot. Because you trusted him. Because every part of you wanted him closer.

Toto stopped in front of you, his scent wrapping around you now, deeper than before. He was controlling it, you realized. Holding back. Keeping himself calm for your sake.

That somehow made it worse.

“You are burning up,” he said softly.

“I know.”

“Has it started fully?”

You shook your head, cheeks heating for an entirely different reason. “No. Not yet. But soon.”

“How soon?”

“Tonight. Maybe earlier.”

His eyes closed briefly. When he opened them, the Alpha was closer to the surface. Not dangerous. Never to you. But powerful. Focused.

“You are not staying here.”

“I have a hotel room.”

“You are not staying alone.”

“Toto—”

“No.”

You narrowed your eyes, partly because you were overwhelmed, partly because arguing with him was your favorite terrible habit. “You do know ordering an omega around during pre-heat is risky?”

“Yes.”

“And yet?”

“I am willing to take the risk.”

“You are impossible.”

“You are stubborn.”

“You like that.”

His gaze dropped to your mouth. The air changed. Your heart kicked hard.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I do.”

Oh. That was unfair. Deeply unfair. You should have had legal representation for conversations like this.

You turned away before your face could betray you more than it already had. “I don’t want this to become your responsibility.”

Behind you, he exhaled. Then his hands settled gently on your shoulders. Grounding. “You are not a responsibility,” he said. “You are someone I care about.”

You closed your eyes. “That is worse.”

His thumbs moved slowly over your shoulders. “Why?”

“Because then I want things.”

His voice softened. “What things?”

Your laugh came out small. “Don’t make me say it.”

“I need you to say it.”

“Toto.”

“Little one...” His mouth was closer now, near your ear, his voice low enough to undo your dignity one syllable at a time. “I will not guess with you. Not about this.”

Your body trembled. Not from fear. Never from fear. From wanting. From the ache building under your skin. From the terrible tenderness of being asked instead of taken.

You turned slowly. He let his hands fall away. His eyes searched your face.

“I want you,” you whispered. “But I don’t want it to be only because of this.”

Something softened in him so deeply it hurt to look at. “It is not.”

Your breath caught. He lifted a hand, then paused. A question.

You nodded. His palm touched your cheek. Warm. Careful.

Your entire body leaned into it before you could stop yourself. Toto’s expression changed again, pride and pain and affection all tangled together.

“My little omega,” he murmured.

You made a sound somewhere between a protest and a surrender. “That sounds illegal.”

“It is affectionate.”

“It sounds like you are about to lock me in a tower.”

“I prefer five-star hotels.”

You laughed, and the tension broke just enough for you to breathe again.

His thumb brushed your cheek. “I have wanted you for a long time,” he said. “Not because of instinct. Not because of heat. Because you walk into a room and make it impossible for me to think clearly. Because you argue with me in front of engineers who are twice your age. Because you steal my coffee and then pretend it was yours. Because you are brave even when you are scared.”

Your eyes burned. No. Absolutely not. You were not crying in Toto Wolff’s office because he confessed feelings with terrifying precision.

That was too much. “I do not steal your coffee.”

“You do.”

“You leave it unattended.”

“That is not a legal defense.”

“It is in my heart.”

His mouth curved. Then he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours. The contact made your whole body settle. A quiet sound escaped you before you could stop it.

Toto went still. You felt his control strain. His hand moved to the back of your neck, fingers gentle, grounding, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin beneath your hairline.

Your scent bloomed. Sweet. Warm. Needy. You felt embarrassment rush through you. You tried to pull back.

He did not let you. Not forcefully. Just enough to say stay.

“Do not be ashamed,” he murmured.

“I can’t help it.”

“I know.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“It is natural.”

“You say that because you are calm.”

His laugh was low and rough. “Little one, I am not calm.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. That was a mistake. His pupils were dark. His jaw tight. His breathing controlled, but only just.

Oh. Oh. The Alpha was not calm at all. He was simply holding himself together because you needed him to.

Your chest tightened. “Toto…”

“I will take you back to the hotel,” he said. “You will rest. I will make sure no one disturbs you. I will call the doctor if you need one. And if you want me to stay, I stay.”

Your omega practically purred. You, tragically, had a mouth. “And if I want you to stay for selfish reasons?”

His thumb brushed along your jaw. “Then I stay for selfish reasons.”

A shiver moved through you.

His gaze sharpened. “Use your words.”

You hated how much that worked. “I want you to stay.”

His expression turned almost painfully tender. “Good.”

“And…” You swallowed. “I want your jacket.”

His brows lifted. “My jacket?”

“Yes.”

“Any particular reason?”

“It smells like you.”

For one second, Toto looked like you had reached into his chest and grabbed his heart with both hands. Then he turned, picked up the black Mercedes jacket from the chair, and wrapped it around your shoulders.

It swallowed you whole. Warm. Heavy. Him.

Your eyes fluttered shut. The relief was immediate. You felt him watching you. When you opened your eyes, he was smiling faintly.

“What?” you muttered.

“You look very pleased with yourself.”

“I have acquired resources.”

“You have acquired my jacket.”

“Same thing.”

He stepped closer and adjusted the collar around your neck, his fingers careful not to brush too much skin.

“Toto?”

“Yes?”

“Can we leave before I do something humiliating?”

His mouth twitched. “Define humiliating.”

“Climb you like a tree.”

He stared at you. You stared back. Then his laugh broke free, low and surprised, and God, you loved that sound. Loved it more than you had any right to.

He shook his head. “You are impossible.”

“You like that.”

“Yes,” he said, eyes warm. “Unfortunately, I do.”

The journey back to the hotel was a blur of private corridors, his hand at your back, his body angled subtly between you and everyone else. Not aggressive. Not obvious. Unless someone looked too long. Then it became very obvious.

One junior staff member opened his mouth, caught one look from Toto, and closed it again. Good survival instinct.

In the car, you curled into his jacket and tried very hard not to melt against him.

Toto sat beside you, one hand resting near yours but not touching. Always letting you choose.

That made the ache in your chest worse. “You can hold my hand,” you said quietly.

His fingers found yours instantly. Warmth rushed through you again.

You leaned your head against the seat and closed your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured.

“For what?”

“Making your weekend complicated.”

His thumb moved over your hand. “My weekends are always complicated.”

“This is different.”

“Yes,” he said. “This matters.”

You opened your eyes. He was looking at you with such quiet certainty that it nearly undid you.

By the time you reached the hotel suite, your pre-heat had deepened. Your skin was too sensitive, your thoughts too soft around the edges. The room smelled neutral, clean, safe.

Then Toto stepped inside, and suddenly it smelled like him. Better.

He locked the door. You sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped in his jacket, watching him move around the room with efficient care. Water. Medication. Extra blankets. Phone silenced. Messages sent. Team handled. World managed.

Toto Wolff could probably organize an emergency evacuation, negotiate a driver contract, and make tea at the same time.

Actually, he was making tea.

You blinked at him. “Are you nesting for me?”

He paused. Then glanced at the blankets he had arranged, the water on the bedside table, the dimmed lights, the jacket still around your shoulders.

“I am being practical.”

“You are nesting.”

“I am ensuring comfort.”

“That is nesting with a Mercedes budget.”

He pointed one finger at you.

“You are very mouthy for someone who nearly fainted in my garage.”

“You like that too.”

His eyes softened. “Yes.”

The room went quiet. He came closer and sat beside you, careful, leaving space.

You hated the space. So you closed it, leaning into his side. His arm came around you immediately. A sound escaped you. Small. Content. Toto’s body went tense for half a second, then relaxed with visible effort.

“You are safe,” he murmured against your hair.

Your fingers curled into his shirt. “I know.”

“No one comes in. No one touches you. No one bothers you.”

“You sound very Alpha right now.”

“I am very Alpha right now.”

You smiled against him. “At least you are self-aware.”

His lips brushed your temple. “And you are very omega right now.”

You groaned. “Do not expose me.”

“You are sitting in my lap.”

You looked down. Somehow, without noticing, you had shifted fully onto him, knees tucked at his side, face pressed into his neck.

Ah. Interesting.

“Strategic positioning,” you said weakly.

“Of course.”

“You are warm.”

“Yes.”

“And comfortable.”

“I am happy to be useful.”

“You are also smug.”

“Extremely.”

You lifted your head to glare at him, but the glare died somewhere between his eyes and his mouth.

His hand stilled on your back. The silence turned fragile.

Your body knew what it wanted. Your heart knew too. That was the frightening part.

“Toto,” you whispered.

He looked at you. “Tell me what you need.”

You touched his face, fingers brushing over his jaw. “You.”

His eyes closed briefly. When they opened, the Alpha was there. Not hiding anymore. But still controlled.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. His hand covered yours.

“Words, little one.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “I’m sure.”

The first kiss was not rushed.

That surprised you. You expected hunger, instinct, heat pulling everything apart. But Toto kissed you like he was making a promise. Slow and careful.

His hand cradled the back of your head, his other arm around your waist, holding you close but never trapping you.

Your omega melted. Your hands gripped his shirt.

He growled then. Softly. Against your mouth.

You pulled back just enough to whisper, “You said you didn’t growl.”

His forehead rested against yours. “I lied.”

You laugh breathlessly. His smile brushes your lips. Then he kisses you again, and the room narrows to warmth, cedar, strong hands, and the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

And then something inside you finally snaps.

You start pulling at your clothes, impatient, desperate, your fingers clumsy because your body is already too far gone to care about dignity. Toto helps you, his hands firm but careful, his mouth trailing down your throat as he pushes fabric from your skin.

His lips find your neck. Hot. Possessive. Very alpha.

A broken sound slips from your mouth, and your hands land on his shirt almost blindly, tugging at the buttons, needing him closer, needing skin, needing him.

Toto exhales a dark little laugh against your throat. “Greedy little omega.”

The words go straight through you. You whimper, your hips shifting without permission, and then you feel it — the hard length of his cock pressing against you through his trousers.

You both freeze. Only for a second. But it is enough.

Toto feels it too. A low growl rumbles from his chest, deeper this time, rougher, and your whole body answers it like instinct has reached inside you and pulled every sensible thought apart.

There is no paddock. No race weekend. No strategy. No consequences. Only him. Only your Alpha. Only the unbearable need to have him inside you.

“Toto,” you whimper, almost shaking with it.

His hand cups your jaw, his eyes dark and completely gone. “I know, little one,” he murmurs, voice rough. “I know.”

And then he moves. One second you are in his lap, trembling and burning, and the next he has you on your back, bare beneath him, your body exposed to his gaze.

The way he looks at you nearly ruins you. Hungry. Possessive.

His mouth drops to your breasts, and you arch immediately, a cry escaping you as his lips close around one nipple, then the other, his tongue and teeth making your body jolt beneath him.

His hands move everywhere. Your ribs. Your waist. Your hips. Your thighs.

Like he cannot decide where he wants to touch you first, like every part of you belongs beneath his palms.

Then one hand slips lower. Between your legs. The moment his fingers find your clit, you gasp sharply, your whole body stretching toward him as if he has found the exact place where your sanity ends.

“Toto—”

“I have you,” he growls against your skin.

Your fingers fly into his hair, pulling him closer, needing more, while your other hand reaches down between you, searching for his trousers, for him.

The second your palm brushes over his cock through the fabric, Toto loses what little control he has left. He catches both your wrists in one hand and pins them above your head. Not cruelly. Not painfully. But firmly enough that your omega goes utterly still beneath him.

His eyes burn into yours. “You will get what you want,” he says, voice low and dangerous. “In a moment.”

You nearly sob. Because you do want it. You want him. You want all of him. You want the weight, the heat, the possession, the claiming force of him finally giving in.

He pushes his trousers and boxers down just enough, and your eyes drop despite yourself.

Your breath catches. Then your thighs part automatically, your hips lifting toward him, shameless and desperate.

Toto’s gaze follows the movement, and the growl that leaves him this time sounds almost broken.

His cock slides against your soaked cunt, and the contact makes you cry out, your back arching off the bed.

“Toto, please,” you beg. “Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

One of his hands grips your hip. The other still holds your wrists above your head.

He leans over you, his mouth brushing yours, his voice wrecked. “Look at me.”

You do. And then he pushes inside you. Hard. Deep. So deep that the air tears out of your lungs and both of you moan at the same time.

For one suspended second, neither of you moves. You feel him everywhere. Stretching you. Filling you. Claiming space inside you like your body was made to take him.

Toto drops his forehead to yours, breathing hard, his control hanging by a thread.

“Mein Gott,” he groans. “You feel so fucking good.”

Then he starts to move. Strong. Deep. Relentless. His hips drive into yours with the kind of rhythm that makes thought impossible. Every thrust pushes a sound out of you, shameless and high, your body taking him, craving him, begging for more without words.

His mouth is everywhere. Your jaw. Your throat. Your breasts. The sensitive skin beneath your ear. His teeth graze your neck, and your omega nearly breaks apart beneath him.

He still has your wrists pinned, and you should maybe care. You don’t. God, you don’t. You love it.

You love how dominant he is, how completely he covers you, how his body cages yours in, how he gives you exactly what you begged for while still holding you like something precious.

He fills you so perfectly it almost hurts. And then his cock hits that spot inside you, and your entire body jolts.

“Toto!”

He hears it. His grip tightens on your hip, and he changes the angle, hitting it again. And again. And again.

Until you are no longer capable of pretending to be quiet. Your moans fill the room, loud and helpless, mixing with his rough breaths, his growls, the obscene sound of your bodies moving together.

Instinct takes over completely. You feel wild with it. Needy. Owned. Loved.

Your head falls back against the pillows, your body tightening around him, and the words leave your mouth before you can stop them.

“Breed me,” you gasp. “Toto, please— breed me.”

He freezes for half a heartbeat. Then something in him snaps. His growl is dark, broken, almost animal. His thrusts become harder, deeper, driven by instinct now, by alpha need, by the way your omega is begging beneath him like you were made for this, made for him.

“You want that?” he rasps, his mouth against your throat. “You want your alpha to fill you?”

“Yes,” you sob. “Please. Please, Toto.”

His lips brush your ear. “Then take it.”

That ruins you. Your orgasm crashes through you so hard your body locks beneath him, your cunt clenching around his cock as you cry out, helpless and shaking, your wrists still trapped above your head, your thighs tight around his hips.

Toto groans your name like it costs him something. One last deep thrust — and then he comes inside you.

You feel it. Hot. Deep. Claiming. Your alpha spilling into you as his body shudders over yours, his grip tightening, his breath breaking against your neck.

You moan again, softer this time, trembling through the aftershocks as he fills you, as your body pulls him in, as the heat finally gives you exactly what it needed.

For a moment, there is only breathing. Hard. Uneven. Human again, but barely.

Toto slowly releases your wrists, his hand immediately smoothing over your skin as if checking whether he held you too tightly.

You do not let him move away. Your arms wrap around him, pulling him down, keeping him close.

He follows instantly, careful not to crush you, his mouth pressing to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your lips.

“My omega,” he murmurs, voice rough and tender.

Your eyes flutter closed. “My alpha,” you whisper back.

And the sound he makes at that is softer than any growl.

You lie tangled together in the soft, dim quiet of the hotel room, your body still warm, your cheek resting against his chest while his fingers move slowly through your hair.

For once, Toto is not checking his phone. Not answering messages. Not managing a crisis. Not being the man the whole team expects to hold the world together.

He is just here. With you. Wrapped around you like he has no intention of letting go.

After a long moment, guilt creeps in through the softness. “You lost almost an entire day of work because of me,” you whisper.

Toto’s fingers pause in your hair. Then his arm tightens around your waist.

“They will manage without me.”

You lift your head slightly, frowning. “Toto—”

“No.” His voice is quiet, but firm. “They are capable people. And as I can see…” His thumb brushes along your cheek, his gaze softening. “You needed me more.”

Your throat tightens. That should not make you emotional. Of course it does. Stupid omega heart. Stupid Alpha with his stupid perfect timing.

“You say that like it’s easy,” you murmur.

“For you?” he says, leaning closer. “It is.”

Then he kisses you. Slowly. Tenderly.

Not with hunger this time, but with something deeper. Something steady. Something that feels dangerously close to love.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours. “You are mine,” he whispers.

A small smile touches your lips. Warm. Sleepy. Completely ruined.

“Yes,” you whisper back, brushing your nose against his. “I belong to you.”

Toto’s eyes darken, but his smile is impossibly soft. “Good.”

He pulls you closer again, pressing another kiss to your hair. And there, wrapped in his arms, surrounded by his scent and the quiet certainty of him, you finally stop fighting sleep. Because the paddock can wait. The world can wait.

NEED

@woncheolisms

Joshua x Reader x Jeonghan, omegaverse au, Omega Reader, Beta Joshua, Alpha Jeonghan, Reader is married to Joshua, threesome, cuckholding, eventual polyamory

when you’re told by doctors that you need to get off your suppressants and go into heat, your beta husband thinks he has the perfect alpha in mind to help satisfy your needs.

Silent Cry

@staylovesmiley

Changbin x Reader, omegaverse, idol au, pack SKZ, poly SKZ, Alpha Changbin, Omega Reader, strangers to lovers au, fated mates, caregiver au

A new law that is passed makes it so all idol groups are required to have either a beta or omega caretaker to help ease the stress of idol life as well as keep the balance of any mix matched packs who lack certain dynamics. What happens when Changbin feels a connection to an omega caretaker assigned to a different group under the same company?

touch my heart

@woncheolisms

Seungcheol x Reader, omegaverse au, coworkers to lovers au, Omega Reader, Alpha Seungcheol, family abuse, childhood trauma

you have never, in your entire life, thought that an alpha would be interested in you. so when choi seungcheol, your quiet but confident alpha coworker, starts courting you, you don’t know what to do with his affections.

Creature in the Black Night

@always-a-fangirlie

Bang Chan x Reader, omegaverse au, Alpha werewolf Chan, Human Reader, pack SKZ, strangers to lovers au, fated mates

After finding you alone and hurt, physically and emotionally, Chris helps you get on your feet before sending you on your way. What he did not expect was to miss you, someone he only had in his cabin for less than a week. Once he started to shove thoughts of you out of his mind, you show back up even more in need of his help.

This Mortal Coil

@jinfizz

Jungkook x Reader, werewolf au, soulmate au, friends to lovers au, Alpha Jungkook (human presenting Jungkook), angst, pining, some blood and gore, breeding kink, family issues, bullying

Some might say that being in love with your best friend is the single worst thing that can happen to you. That’s the least of your problems, though, because you’re still waiting to find your fated mate, you’re not getting any younger, and Jungkook is painfully, tragically human.

Little do you know, your laundry list of problems is about to get a little bit longer–because there’s more to Jungkook than meets the eye.

roar

@kitten4sannie

Mingi x Reader, omegaverse au, Alpha Mingi, Omega Reader, gang leader au, bratty Reader, possessive Mingi, knotting, partying/alcohol

Running an underground gang took every ounce of time and discipline Mingi had. Power meant control, and control meant staying on top. It was something the young alpha had been born to do. His presence dominated every room he stepped into, a force of nature that made even seasoned fighters lower their eyes. You’d always felt safe under that shadow, shielded by his name and his scent.

But lately, safety wasn’t enough. With Mingi buried in meetings and deals, you were left watching from the sidelines, craving a look, a touch, a flicker of the wolfish hunger he usually saved for you. Tonight, at the crowded party his crew had thrown, you’d dressed a little bolder, moved a little closer, brushed his arm, whispered in his ear. You’d do anything to pull his eyes back to you.

The Mating Season Program

@nightshao

Mingyu x Reader, omegaverse au, Omega Reader, Alpha Mingyu, strangers to lovers au, experiment au

Every year, unmated Alphas and Omegas are brought to a secluded island for a government-regulated “mating season.” You signed up by accident, thinking it was a summer internship. Mingyu signed up to find his mate. Now they’re trapped in a high-stakes world of pheromones, tests, and temptation.

Heat

@milk-moonbunnies

Seokjin x Yoongi x Hoseok x Reader, omegaverse au, Omega Reader, Alpha Seokjin, Alpha Yoongi, Alpha Hoseok, breeding kink, foursome

Jin, Yoongi, and Hoseok know they have limited time. Your eyes are already glassy as you press closer to Hoseok's lithe body. He was the smallest of all Alphas, and because of that, he always took care of you first before your heat fully broke.

His thumbs rub soft circles into your hips, his tongue licking over the mating bite he had placed years ago on you as you squirmed in his hold. "Hoseok, mm," your eyes blinked rapidly, missing Jin rushing out of the room to the kitchen. "It's too hot, I can't-" your head burrowed closer to Hoseok's chest.

You slammed your finger against the elevator button harder, begging for it to close.

But the second you saw your boss’s blue eyes clock you, she was moving towards the door with gusto.

No matter how many times you pressed the button, the doors didn’t close.

She was 10 feet, 9, you saw the blue black bouse you loved on her. 

 8, oh come on.

You spotted the envelope opened the letter creased in her hand. 

There was a a metal scratching noise as finally the elevator doors groaned and started to close. 

7 feet, and can hear her heels now.

You really didn’t want to do this, that’s why you’d waited until she was in a lunch meeting to drop the letter on her desk. 

The elevator door is less than a foot from being closed but the fifty year old woman in her pencil skirt, heels, and blouse is jogging fully to the elevator now and her hand reaches out.

Sliding between the metal doors, and it doesn’t so much as kiss her knuckles before it opens

Your eyes cast down at your shoes. 

Mrs. Harkness presses the elevator button that your sweaty fingers had just been jabbing. 

The doors close once more, and you are holding your breath. 

“What is this?” Your boss turns to you, she looks positively put out. Or maybe something more?

“It’s my resignation letter.” Your voice doesn’t shake, thank god for small favors. 

You slink back to the metal handlebars on the side of the ugly metal elevator. 

“I have my PHD I promise you I know how to read. Look at me!” Harkness's anger flares and you flinch. Hating yourself for not getting your scripts filled, hating yourself for being emotional. 

You tried to open your mouth but Harkness snapped again. 

“Look at me, damn it!”

Your eyes snapped to hers, you smell the alpha in the metal box. 

The spit glistening on her bottom lip, you’ve never seen her so furious. 

You shifted on your feet and tried to look away, but Mrs. Harkness wasn’t having it. Fisting your resignation, she yelled again. 

“Don’t you dare look away from me while you abandon me! Look at me, while you throw away-all we’ve-” Her face pales and she changes her sentence mid way “-worked so hard to do-to do here!” 

“Mrs. Harkness, I said in my res-”

“I don’t accept, I don’t accept your letter or resignation. You cannot leave me.” Harkness insisted and you hated how your heart ached. 

She ripped up the paper like a child throwing a tantrum. It was stubborn and ridiculous, and god if you didn’t love her. 

How her pheromones were bursting, you smelled her rage, her fear, her…want. 

The elevator dinged and the two of you spun to see the doors opening on a floor you hadn’t chosen. 

Three people about to get on. 

“Elevators full, get the next one!” Harknes shouts and they look irritated. 

“There’s plenty of room.” The guy said but the CEO is pounding the buttons again, not allowing for such 

“Step onto this elevator and you're fired before you can press a button.” Mrs. Harkness's lip curled like some kind of caged tiger. 

They all backed up, like the floor was in fact lava. 

The doors closed once more, and this time, your boss smashes her fist against the emergency shut off. 

You're both cast in darkness except for the low white light glow. 

The air unit shuts off too and now you are in for a world of hurt. 

“No, bad idea, very bad” you whisper, but she’s by the buttons, and you can’t figure out how to explain the terrible error she’d just committed. 

“What did I do? Why? Why would you want to leave? Is it the pay, I’ll give you a pay raise! I’ll double it!” She says, chest heaving, and your panic is misread. 

“I’ll triple it, god your worth that and ten times more? Is it the workload? I know I ask too much of you-I call all hours! You need space-” Her voice cracks and you see the sweat trickle down the column of her neck. 

You press your sweaty palms against the metal wall and feel the heat. 

“Mrs. Harkness-” You try professionally but the alpha was practically snarling at you. And the chemical reaction was causing your heat to kickstart. 

Still, the CEO was terrified, and she was spiralling, and not understanding that the woman of her affections, the omega, was in a very intense predicament. 

Nor was she aware of what you were doing to her own body. 

Her hand went into her hair and her forehead as she tried to stop the panic attack, but losing you wasn’t something she thought to fear. 

“All those nights, I-I get it -but I thought we were. I mean I thought you-” She’s losing her mind in front of you. Real time, right here, in a metal coffin hanging in a skyscraper.

“Agatha-” You pant again, but the slick is rolling down your own legs, soaking through the expensive slacks, and you would soon drip down onto the floor. 

Your underwear like sandpaper on your puffy lips. 

Your knee tilted in, making you look like you were going to piss yourself. 

Agatha tried to stand up straight, but as you stared at her you wanted to yell, surely she could tell physically something was off. 

Her inability to read this situation was out of character on every one of her CEO business deals. 

And her face was flush, as she tried to stiffen up, not look like she wanted to fall to her knees and beg. 

But as she tried to find some model of decorum, her voice broke open;

“I-I’ll do anything-I-I can be better.” Your boss loses her ability to pretend this was about work. 

“Harknes, it’s just business. You’ll find someone else who ca-” You say, trying to detach, but your voice is hoarse. Your heat is already clouding you, and you can smell her. 

It’s not the perfume that sits on the top of her blouse fabric and wrists. 

Nope. 

You swear that feral bit of your vein can see the vein in her neck, the sweat, the heat - you blink a few times. 

What did your ancestors do without supressents? How were you supposed to do this?

“I need you-not not for work I can’t.” Agatha is making fists as her adrenaline skyrockets. 

“You need to start the elevator again,” you groan body completely pressed against the wall now. Your wincing, it’s painful, way worse then you had

“I don’t mean for work I mean for-” Agatha’s losing her ability to speak and you grunt and twist in pain. 

“ALPHA FOR FUCKS SAKE START THE ELEVATOR!” You scream and Agatha’s eyes bulge.

But so did the shaft in her pencil skirt.

Her hand reached out to the metal wall.

“You-you’ve never called me-“ The arousal deepens her voice and it’s doing things to your womb. 

You double over grabbing your stomach in pain, but you lift your face to see your boss. 

Fuck it.

“I quit because I was doubling the medically recommended doses of suppressants. We are too compatible, not just how we both order the same stupid take out! Not like I know how to help you in business deals or can anticipate your moves. Like stupid chemical type of compatibility. I’ve been heat sick for the past month and I’m out of suppressants- and I can’t sleep and all I can think of is the way you lick your lips - I can’t focus! I can’t do business because my uterus is just as in love with you as I am! NOW START THE ELEVATOR BEFORE I MOUNT YOU!” You yell at her and Agatha hesitates but her hand numbly reaches out for the elevator emergency button. 

Then her fingers flick the metal lever up, then down, and up again, back and forth it clicks, and you groan out an angry noise.

“Agatha!” You yell but the highly educated CEO is flicking the lever over and over and nothing is happening. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, this isn’t happening.” You shook and then knelt onto the ground. Hand trembling as you reached inside your pants pocket to pull out your phone. 

No bars. 

Of course not. 

Agatha is pressing buttons on the elevator, but her PHD must have in fact been in resignations and not the electrical work in lifts. 

“Your phone! Did you bring your phone?” You cry out at your boss. Her dark hair whips quickly as moves her hands to her hips. 

Pencil skirt, no pockets, of course not. 

“No, come on!” You looked up into the dead elevator ceiling. 

“Stay calm.” Agatha put her hands out, spreading her fingers but not coming near you. You can see the tent in her skirt, down to the girth and swelling knot near her base. 

“Oh my god, you so not telling me that right now!” Your fingers dig into your own thigh. 

“Bunny, what do you want me to say freak out, that’s what people say, right?”

“Oh my god!” You don’t - you can’t. 

“Take a deep breath!” Agatha’s nostrils flared, she was taking deep long intakes - high off the smell of you. 

“I’m not in labor I’m in heat and you smell like your going to be in a rut so don’t tell me to breathe! GOD SO LIKE AN ALPHA!”

The vein in Agatha’s forehead was pounding so hard you could see it from the three feet away. 

You were in the corner on the floor, and the CEO of this building was clinging to the corner with the buttons. 

“Bunny, I’ve been on suppressants for a rut since you interviewed. Trust me I’ve masturbated more than a frat boy. It’s amazing there’s anything left in my balls, it’s like you have a string connected to my cock!” Agatha shouts at you, and you wince again. 

“Don’t call me Bunny- Fuck and don’t yell at me! God poor you and your hyper sex drive and your lonely hand! I’m going to-” You stop degrading the most terrifying CEO in the United States.

Too embarrassed, the pheromones your body was trying to push out to calm the alpha. 

“I-my god, you smell so sweet.” Alpha puts a hand up to her mouth and nose but she’s inhaling like a pervert sniffing panties. 

“Tell you what, you stay in your corner and I’ll stay in mine.” You regard her like a prize fighter. 

“I-”

“No, don’t say anything kind or dirty- I like you too much. Just stop looking at me.” You say but Agatha spots the puddle on the floor, all the blood goes right to her shaft. 

“Baby-I.” Agatha’s voice deepens, she’s sorry, she feels horrible you know, you can tell. 

“Don’t look at me, if we do this-I get pregnant and you keep your fast track CEO life with your penthouse life and your rich parties! It’ll be me who’s got to quit and get big and fat! I’ll be alone putting child locks on my apartment with cracked nipples and endless nights of screaming baby and vomit in my hair! SO STOP THINKING OF FUCKING ME AND IMAGINE CHILD SUPPORT!”

The elevator shifts, no not shift, it lurches forward, and the alpha’s basic desire kicks in. 

So Agatha falls to the floor and grabs you. Cradles your body like it was all that mattered. Lifting you into her lap and curling around you so that whatever hell fell on you, fell on her first. 

But as the ground slanted to the right, your boss held on and waited for you to to descend to the bottom of the building.

But as you lie in her lap, her erection presses against your butt and you whimper and moan. 

You two are a sweaty heap on the floor. In the dark. 

Agatha holds herself back from biting your neck, deciding right there that if you two died, she wanted her last act to make sure you knew. 

You were it. 

You were panting faster, it was painful and erotic and all you wanted but now you felt crazed. 

You're scared, but Agatha’s arms around you are so tight, her lips move to your ear, and she speaks the truth;

“I would give up the penthouse, I’d get rid of the jag, I hate the damn lonely place and the stupid car. It’s just stuff, it’s all dumb, I’d- I’d get a minivan-”

You laugh weakly in her hold. Unable to ever seen that.  

“You would never get a minivan in this city.” You whisper and wince in pain again. 

“I’d get us a paddled bubble on wheels, keep you two safe. Plus the best car seat. I’d rub your feet when you're gorgeous and swollen. I’ll wash the vomit out of your hair, buy you French fancy creams, and put them on your nipples yourself.”

You both moaned when Agatha’s cock tip seemed to like that idea too much. 

“You just want to fuck an omega in a heat without a condom.” You squirm in her lap and Agatha’s arms wrapped around your middle don’t lessen. 

“I want to push inside of you and bite your neck so no one ever gets the chance to.” Agatha admits trying to make a joke, and be honest. But you both moan as you shift against her. 

“Stop flirting.”You whined, but you felt her shaft press against you and you didn’t want her to be such a gentleman anymore. 

“You're in my lap, it’s all I can do to breathe in your scent and pray I don’t devour you whole.”

“Aggie-” You moan, having never called her that outloud before. 

But the lights turn on. 

“What fresh hell?” The alpha growls. 

“The elevators working.” You wine, and Agatha pushes a possessive scent. 

“Please don’t attack the nice firefighters trying to get us out of this- Agatha?” You groan as she moves her arm and reaches as far as she can. Smashing it to stop the elevator again. 

“Agatha!” You yelp but she pushes you onto the ground, her blue blouse ripping open, and she has you in a cute little bunny humping position. Her fingers finding the waistline of your trousers and yanking the wet fabric down. 

A cute little breeding pose. 

You gasp at the cool air against your pussy. 

“I’ll learn how to put a car seat in tomorrow, okay?” Your boss promises and you’ve seen her build companies and empires of money and power. If the powerful alpha could do all that, well, she could do anything. 

You grunt, and the idea of Agatha being a good parent only makes you want her more. 

The alpha’s hands move down your ass cheeks, and you’ve never wanted to be someone's so badly.  

Agatha’s cock leaks in her tight skirt as she pushes your lower back further down. Loving you with your hands and knees. Your ass in the air, slick coating the inside of your thighs. 

Agatha’s mouth waters, and her knot pulsates at the scent of you. 

“Fuck,” you can’t breathe, and try to hump her face. 

“Bunny, call me Aggie again. I’m not your boss; you resigned.”