#omegaverse psychology | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

godihatethiswebsite · 2 months

Text

Tethered Bonds

✽ Poly 141 x f!reader (Omegaverse AU)

A lucky stroke of fate led you right into the arms of your alpha soulmates. But is it everything you dreamed it would be or just the continuation of a nightmare?

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

✽ Part Two - The aftermath

So many of you came out of the woodwork for this story and I couldn't be more grateful for all the kind words of encouragement! I'm truly flattered by the amount of love this received for being something that randomly popped in my head on a whim ❤️

I'm glad I was able to get this part out so quickly. It might be a tick before part three, but I've already got some of it worked out. I'll still try to keep chipping away at it while I work on my other series~

Trigger warnings: swearing, angst, depression

“I saw them the other day.”

“...saw who?”

“My scent matches.”

There’s a pregnant pause as your therapist of four years takes the information in, caught off guard by the abruptness of the statement but also the further implications behind the words.

Dr. Miranda has been your life raft and confidant ever since you’d first gone to your family with the appalling reality of your newfound situation. An omega like yourself; she specializes in the treatment and rehabilitation of women who've endured abuse at the hands of their packmates and the dredges of society. Highly recommended by the United Designation Resource Center for psychological trauma.

It had taken you over a week following the incident to gather the strength to confront your fathers on the thorny subject - too ashamed of admittance and too anxious of their response. And even then it was done over the phone in the most uncomfortable video call of your life, the dour atmosphere so at odds with that blessedly clear mid-afternoon sky, its temperate climate and soft summer breeze carrying along an enchanting melody of carefree innocence.

Inside, it was raining.

The wretched bond was a gravity well, sucking you down into a chasmic abyss and siphoning your once bountiful vibrancy. Responsibilities fell by the wayside, locked away in your self-imposed prison as if the globe would simply stop moving if you only ignored its rotations. Not until both your fathers made the three hour flight up north did you muster the courage to finally remove the makeshift barricade guarding your front door, talking through the deceptively difficult act with them on the other end of the phone as the two alphas supported you during the twenty five minutes it took to overcome the all-consuming panic and usher them inside.

They stayed with you for the better part of the month, taking over where depression had failed you in your efforts to function alone. Your parents allowed you space to look after yourself, clearing away the physical filth of your living quarters and, in doing so, sweeping away the cobwebs of your teetering sanity. They scrubbed at putrid greasy plates while you scoured tainted flesh under a scalding hot stream, the dead skin cells contaminated by his poisonous touch spiraling down the drain along with your tears.

The harsh truth of the matter is that there is no escape from your own body. You come screaming into this world given one to do with as you will, to mold and shape based on lived experiences with no regard for the decisions and circumstances made outside your control. There is no space to slip between the weaved threads of time, no hands to turn counter clockwise when you make a mistake. Just a grim acceptance that the life you once aspired to was forevermore out of reach.

There was only so much to be done given your situation. As much aid as your family offered, they were as helpless of bystanders as the soul in your meat suit. Chores were completed, accumulated bills paid, a hearty meal piled high on your plate combating the recent gauntness of your face. You were cherished and fussed over like the wee babe found scattered amongst family photos in your childhood home, cradled in their arms when the horrid presence came calling, dragging a hot poker through your insides and causing mental anguish at all hours of the night.

The more time they spent around you, the more apparent it was that you could no longer stay there. The closer the proximity to your bonded alpha the more power he held to disrupt your life.

That's how you landed in Dr. Miranda’s lap. Before you'd even set foot on the tarmac arrangements had been made for a new life in a new city on the other side of the country - spiriting you away on a mission to regain your independence, the distance easing the damage he could do even as the strained bond churned.

Initially dreading having to confess the horrors you’d endured to some random unknown, she’d worked diligently to soothe your broken nerves in both demeanor and environment. A kind omega in her early forties, the subtle crows feet and laugh lines only accentuated her cheerful personality, disarming in her ability to draw out your insecurities and work with you through the trauma in a way that didn’t feel intruding.

Dr. Miranda was a veritable well of understanding, always encouraging of whatever pace you set, careful of the fragile boundaries constructed to guard your heart from further damage.

She operated as part of a larger business that provided therapeutic services and catered to all designations alike. You’d been thrilled to find there was a separate entrance away from the cacophony of the common room, bypassing the headache of having to wait amongst strangers and leading directly to her office in the back right corner of the building.

The space itself was considerably cozy, low lit warmth all plush and homely. The spacious couch against the back wall invited you to stretch out comfortably, decorative pillows available in a colorful assortment of textures - catering to a discerning omega’s personal preferences. A small diffuser wafting light refreshing mists operated as both a handy descenting spray and an emotional pick me up. Every accommodation purposeful, given special care for your emotional easement and wellbeing.

You appreciated the effort she put into making her office feel more like a living room than a sterile setting. It was easier for you to converse when it felt like you were speaking with a friend.

Bit by bit, Dr. Miranda coaxed you from the sheltered recesses in which you’d burrowed; not just a guiding hand through the concrete dust and collapsed rubble, but a mentor recovering your confidence, reminding you of the path you once walked independently and peeling back the suffocating layers that kept you from standing on your own two feet.

In hindsight, you probably could’ve broken the news of your scent match a bit less abrasively - probably should’ve led with it too.

The pair of you had been engrossed in a topic that was moreso a follow up from your last session rather than anything of actual import. Your brain had been functioning on autopilot the past twenty odd minutes, making sounds vaguely human enough to get by without requiring proper attention. Honestly, most of her words had been drowned out by the incessant buzzing in your ear that had been slowly growing in volume, throat clenching and knuckles flexing, more aware of the sweat dripping down the back of your nape than anything she had to proffer.

Eventually the dam just broke. The words slipped out like grease, lubricated in a film of oil too slick to be contained and begging to be addressed.

There’s a struggle on her face to try and maintain some level of professionalism after the sudden revelation. Knitted eyebrows spiked before smoothing back down, jaw almost dropping until she remembered herself and switched it from an ‘o’ to a relaxed flat line. She mirrored your own position on the couch from her velvet wingback chair, sitting cross legged with an air of casualness. Her only remaining tell was her hands fidgeting in her lap as if her fingers itched to shake you down like a coconut tree or pry your brain open like a valuable specimen.

Knowing the scarcity of scent bonding, this may have very well been the first time she’s come across this scenario - whether in her personal life or from her spot opposite you in her seat.

“How are you feeling about the encounter?” A loaded question if ever there was one, giving you plenty of breathing room to start the conversation however you needed and giving her a chance to compartmentalize.

You tried to focus on the initial emotions, remembering that first brush of sweet alpha pheromones on your olfactory senses. The rush of endorphins as your inner omega staked her claim with that first gulp of built up citrus infused drool.

“I didn’t know I could feel like that...” There was a breathy quality to your tone as you visibly brightened, gazing at the plush rug in the center of the room without actually viewing it, a glow to your smile that was soft in your reminiscence. “They don’t prepare you for that first whiff at the Academy. It’s almost like…”

How could you explain in the span of a few sentences what the most ardent poets struggled with over the course of a lifetime?

“It’s like when someone grows up not being able to breathe properly and they don’t even realize it’s a problem. To them it’s normal to be in a constant state of dyspnea because that’s all they’ve ever known. No one else might be complaining about it, but no one’s asked them about it either. They just assume that's how your lungs are supposed to function and carry on none the wiser.”

Dr. Miranda nodded along, ever patient as you attempted to spew out your thoughts in an at least semi-coherent structure.

“But then, one day, they’re walking behind a guy who’s fumbling with his attempt to shove a small object back in his pocket and watches as it falls to the sidewalk. They pick it up off the ground like a good citizen; strike up a conversation. Ask him about the strange contraption the guy calls an inhaler - learns there's another way to breathe. And so they go home and tell their mom what’s been going on with them and she takes them to see the doctor who gets them one of their own. And when that first dose of medicated mist gets sucked into their lungs…”

The image of a wide eyed innocent gasping in a world full of untold possibilities as if reborn from the ashes of their previous life, no longer chained down by the invisible restrictions tethering them to the globe, eyes glistening full of wonderment at how something so small can be something so cosmically life altering.

With each new breath, they soar.

You’re pulled out of your musings and back to reality as your own lungs expand, something weightless shimmering in your gaze, glassy eyed and perfectly at ease. “Now I know why they call it living.”

The words are floated around the space with a sort of reverence akin to hearing a favored childhood fairy tale read aloud at their mother’s knee. Something wistful and longing and filled with effervescent hope.

“Sounds heavenly...” Her own voice was just as breathy, living vicariously through the moment she herself hasn't experienced. Curling her legs up under herself, Dr. Miranda encouraged, “tell me more.”

“There were two of them,” you went on, smile turning playful and newly invigorated. “The first one was just this big bulk of an alpha. I mean, seriously, he was properly huge!” Animated arms opened wide for emphasis, your grin reaching almost the same diameter. “Built like a fucking linebacker or something. I can only imagine what he must do for a living. Kinda gives off scary vibes, but like… in a non sketchy way? He dresses a bit like a drug dealer, but feels more like a gym teacher. Maybe that’s just me being biased ‘cause he smells like a cupcake, I dunno.”

The energy you gave off was infectious. Dr. Miranda couldn’t help but join in with amused laughter, endeared to the way you were lighting up the room. It wasn’t often she got to see you like this, glimpsing the lighthearted woman you were before the accident. It was a welcome sight after so much negativity. “And the other?”

“Fuuuuck me, Doc.” You groaned good naturedly, head falling back to rest against the spine of the couch as your limbs went limp. “Swear to god he was the prettiest guy I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life. Gorgeous smile. Like, I’ve always been a casual fan of coconut, but after that encounter…” You shuddered. “I just wanna roll around in an entire box of fucking samoas.”

“And do these tasty specimens have names?”

Just like that, you wilted.

The temperature shifted rapidly, a violent change that dragged out of your whimsy and back into a world where life didn’t discriminate between those deserving of heaven and those who broke their way in to taint the ghosts at peace.

She picked up on it immediately, back straightening as if you weren’t the only one in the room with a chill suddenly dripping down their spine.

Your admission came from a voice far more fragile than she’d heard in a very long time. “...I never got to ask.”

Recounting the excruciating memory was like shoving needles underneath your nailbeds, bringing up the other person in the room keeping you from wanton bliss, describing the torture you’d endured witnessing them existing with their own omega unaware of the damage she’d inadvertently done. You relayed their moment of recognition and sympathy. The confusion on the poor omega’s face.

How you turned tail and fled like a coward from the scene.

“I panicked,” came the strained confession, stumbled out in a frantic rush that spoke volumes of your frazzled mental state. “I-I didn’t know what else to do! I couldn’t just waltz up to them all willy nilly and throw a wrench in whatever the hell kinda life they’d already built. I mean, she was right there! How was I supposed to fawn over the men who should’ve been mine to keep when they were never mine to begin with?!”

You flinched away from the unwanted flashback of silvery bite marks, the pale white indents plastered on her skin displayed proudly beneath the collar of her coat like an olympic medal. So at odds with the ones mirrored on your own flesh, hidden now under a thick cotton turtleneck that you fought the urge to scratch.

Dr. Miranda listened closely, keen eyes analyzing the familiar body language and monitoring your growing levels of distress. She watched as you picked apart a loose hanging thread with jittery deftness until inevitably too much unwound and fluffy white stuffing poked out between the seams of the pillow clutched like a life jacket to your chest.

“I can only imagine the hurt you must’ve felt in that moment…”

Where once your voice had been full of life, now there was only a grave emptiness. Color had been sucked from your aura the same way it had been from the room. There was no hiding from your devastation in the tiny office, the frayed threads of the cashmere pillow a reflection revealing the true turmoil roiling beneath the skin. It rotted from the inside out, exposing the vulnerable squishy interior and keeping you reliving the same brutal lacerations again and again and again.

“...I hadn’t even considered it a possibility, you know…?”

Hadn’t allowed yourself the concept of hope.

“And suddenly it was right there - the answer to all my problems. For a brief moment, I was shown a glimpse of a better life. A future… one where I didn't wake up with earth shattering headaches and relentless nausea and I’d actually have energy to do more than just be a useless fucking couch potato and there could be laughter and healing and–”

You weren’t sure at which point in your stream of consciousness you’d started crying, nor when you fitfully clawed into the padded fabric, shredding the delicate material as it twisted and stretched in your trembling hands.

“I wish I never ran into them at the store... I wish I could’ve kept living in stupid fucking ignorance. At least then they could’ve just stayed made up characters in my head. Anything would’ve been better than this–” you spat angrily, chucking the mangled remains of the pillow on the ground and gritting your teeth through the onslaught of tears. “Having them ripped away from me like some sick fucking joke! Like the universe hasn’t already crushed my hopes and dreams and laughed in my face for wanting a normal fucking life!? Well guess what, gods? You win! Okay?! You fucking win! Take my heart! I don't want it anymore!”

Consoling arms encapsulated your quivering form, the comforting florals of Dr. Miranda’s airy omega scent projecting like a protective blanket and overpowering the tart bitterness of your once sweetened pear turned ashen in your mouth.

The floodgates opened. They couldn't be stopped.

“I’m just so fucking sick of this!” Your screams of devastation become muffled against the softness of her pink knitted sweater, harsh blubbering sobs broken up by heaving gasps as you mourn the life you’ll never have. “I hate him... I hate him! I don’t wanna do this anymore! I just want my fucking life back!”

There are no words that can fix the lesions of the heart. There’s no comfort of a better tomorrow that she can wax poetic whilst drying your tears. Sometimes grief cannot be mended - only managed. And sometimes that means accepting the bad days with the learned knowledge that not all anger is made of evil.

Holding you close, lulling you into a guarded safety with a placating purr, she grants you reprieve from the mask that you wear.

Not much more was discussed in the aftermath. The remaining time was dedicated to helping you stabilize from the emotional trauma, bringing you down carefully to avoid dropping into a catatonic state. She’d witnessed it with you before - at the start of your visits. When the grief was still too near and your triggers splayed out like a million mouse traps all primed to go off. Avoiding them was all but impossible in those early days. Three hours of your life were forever lost to time, the only proof of its occurrence the foggy aftermath filled memory of cold dampened skin and sweat soaked weighted blankets clutched tight in a dark room, uncontrollable trembles wracking your form and a bone deep exhaustion as if you’d just ran ten miles.

Dr. Miranda never once left your side.

Trudging your way back to your vehicle, the air inside the car was only mildly warmer than its outer counterpart, sinking into the rigid cloth seats and listening to the laboured clicks of the old engine grappling to turn over in the bitter cold. Snowflakes gathered on your coat began to melt as it finally gave way, puttering to life and filling the space with dense heated air.

You huffed out a loaded sigh, absentmindedly scratching at the already abused skin as you felt his presence poking experimentally across the bond. As if you didn’t have enough on your plate without him adding his delightful input, sniffing around your emotions like a trained bloodhound attuned to your melancholic brooding.

He was a spiteful thing; had been since he first opened his eyes the next morning from his drug induced stupor and found the pretty thing he’d coveted had just up and vanished. You never knew when he’d invade the sanctity of your mind. The flicker of amusement from his end was the telltale proof this was all just a sick game.

The bonds didn’t allow any actual communication. There were no words passed back and forth, no sudden powers of telepathy. Just intense sensations - emotions conveyed as though tangible and speaking ideas down an invisible phone line.

The whole point of a mating bite in the first place was to bring a further cohesion to the packs. As an omega, you were the fixed point in space around which all other members orbited. A mediator of sorts; it was your job to smooth the serrated edges of an alpha’s instincts, regulating their emotional needs and nurturing them to achieve a sense of balance - and vice versa.

An omega’s naturally empathetic nature meant you were frequently prone to becoming easily overstimulated. It was an alpha’s duty to soothe your frazzled nerves.

He liked to abuse his privileges.

Sometimes he went days without pestering, others his tiresome machinations seemed unending. The longest reprieve had been just shy of three weeks, lured into a false sense of optimism that just maybe he’d overdosed and freed you from his haunting clutches. His return was a hot knife stabbing into your skull, grinding and drilling like a makeshift lobotomy for the clinically insane.

You were grateful for the miles between now softening the blows. Once he’d begun to feel the strain on the flight to your current city whittling away at the strength of your bond, he’d lashed out in unbridled fury. You’d spent the first leg of the trip huddled on your knees in the airplane stall, his mental punishment sawing into your ribs and expelling the simple breakfast you’d eaten an hour prior.

Sobs of anguish turned to tears of relief as time went on and his reach stretched thin across the continent.

The bond withdrawals came afterwards. His presence still lurked in the tether that binds you, but no more than a casual thought in the back of your mind, the quiet voice that whispers on the edge of a canyon daring you to ‘jump’.

The bond withdrawals were now the worst of your worries. It was hard to function on a day to day basis when the same distance granting you a second chance caused you to become physically - sometimes violently - ill. Instances like that, Zofran was your best friend.

Buckling your seatbelt, you waged an internal battle over whether or not to do the responsible thing of making a second attempt at grocery shopping (despite your best efforts over the past two days, you hadn’t yet figured out how to miraculously will food to materialize in your barren pantry). Statistically speaking you were most likely safe from another encounter… unless they’d pulled a you and hadn’t left with their wares either.

But if you didn’t have the luxury before to keep putting it off then you certainly hadn’t acquired it now.

Math was on your side as you emerged with a full cart of goods and a lack of new therapy material. You’d still been the most skittish paranoid thing ever, scurrying quickly through the aisles like the CIA was out to get you, scanning your periphery and emerging quickly from the self checkout lanes to hurry towards your car. But just because you’d been successful in your venture doesn’t mean you weren’t followed along by fuzzy raised brows and curious - if not judgemental - looks.

It was an odd notion - being terrified of the one thing that should’ve made you feel secure. It was all you could do to distract yourself from the frustrating realization that this was a game you’d be playing for the foreseeable future unless you shelled out the extra cash to bypass doing the chore yourself.

That would have to be a worry for another time. Right now, all you desired was to curl up in your tiny studio apartment with a home cooked microwaved meal and lose yourself in the diversion that was the food network channel.

But first: caffeine.

You ignored the nagging ghost of responsibility tugging at your ear as you pulled into a parking spot alongside the main road, stepping out of the warm confines of your car and hurrying inside the nestled hole in the wall you frequented a few times a week for a caffeinated boost.

Large crowds still bothered you even with the reassurance he wasn't there, as if he could somehow physically slink out of the bond formed between you and hide amongst the chittering rabble waiting for an opportune moment of weakness to strike. Thankfully you’d arrived after the mid afternoon rush - although there were still a few stragglers with the same mindset as you eager to escape the frosty air with something warm on an otherwise picturesque snowy winter’s day.

The chiming bell above the door hailed your arrival, festive drink flavors assaulting your nose and instantly watering your mouth. Smoky chestnut praline, rich peppermint mocha, enticing caramel brulee. Cranberry laden pastries, chewy gingerbread cookies; all folded together in a Christmasy mix laced with the pleasant aroma of freshly ground coffee beans.

Your mind zeroed in on exactly what it wanted, pinpointing the most succulent fragrance amongst the bountiful bouquet, cutting through the sea of heavy pheromones belonging to the other patrons and hitting something raw inside your weary soul.

The veritable nectar of the gods.

A rich shot of bold espresso. Sweetly caramelized with smooth, creamy, chocolatey undertones. It zapped your spine with a jolt of adrenaline, awakening your senses while simultaneously soothing them. The first relaxing sip of a perfectly hot beverage. The golden liquid flowed down the back of your throat and alleviated the tangled knots still keeping you on edge, settling like a sturdy hand on your shoulder and allowing you the chance to breathe easy.

Something about the blend had your inner omega preening, ears perked up and startling a small purr from your chest that had you blinking down at your torso in surprised confusion. You’d barely stepped foot inside the cafe and suddenly the craving had expanded tenfold, something ravenous and feral urging your steps towards the counter that you had to fight to withstand.

Shrugging off the intense hunger as a simple lack of shoving something slightly more substantial in your mouth before leaving this morning, you adjusted the strap of your purse more securely on your shoulder and raised your eyes level to the awaiting interior.

Right into the most alluring shade of brilliant azure - sparkling like sapphires and already fixated on you.

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

<< ✿ Previous ✿ << ✽ >> ✿ Next ✿ >>

357 notes · View notes

buckets-and-trees · 5 months

Text

Warm Shadows

a post-endgame omegaverse AU series with dark elements

Blissfully married and bonded to your alpha Bucky Barnes, neither of you were prepared for the devastating betrayal from his closest friend, fellow alpha, and chosen brother Steve Rogers - a man whose may be lost forever to you both, but the game he forces you into will be dangerous and full of things even he did not anticipate.

Content Warnings: [check individual parts for their respective warnings] DARK STORY, non-con scene, heartbreaking fluff, angst, kidnapping, character death (off screen), implied psychological torture and conditioning, omegaverse dynamics (biting, claiming, scenting, heats, bonding, alpha commands), explicit smut (vaginal fingering, vaginal intercourse, sexual use of a prosthetic, oral - female receiving, breastplay, consensual forced orgasm)

SERIES: ↠ chapter one: When You Fall On Me Like Night [2.5k] ↠ chapter two: Let All Light Go [7.5k] ↠ chapter three: Carving Through the Dark [14.4k] ↠ chapter four: The Working of Your Hands [15.5k] ↠ epilogue: coming soon

EXTRAS: ↠ response to questions about their relationship dynamics

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut #marvel omegaverse #warm shadows au #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #female reader #alpha bucky barnes #alpha steve rogers #setlist of stories #forest navigation #aspen wrote something #tw: non con #tw: dubcon

270 notes · View notes

lexirosewrites · 4 months

Note

Okay, no previous thoughts on this, it just occurred to me. (Slick Sunday ask!!!)

This is A canon divergence, a pretty big one, if I do say so myself.

Normal Omegaverse world, with The Party having all the common designations (Argyle, Eddie and Nancy being Alphas, Jon and Robin being omegas, Chrissy I'm still undecided, the pups still un-presented)

And there's Steve.

Everyone thinks he's a beta bc he doesn't really smell like a lot? And bc he's pretty much past the age range anyone would usually present, so.

The thing is.

Steve is not a Beta.

Or an Omega.

Or an Alpha.

He's not even a Human.

He's a human-eating monster who happened to develop feelings for some of his food (Namely, Nancy. And then the pups, and then he met Robin and.... He might have some really weird feelings for Eddie, actually).

So now he tries to fumble a bit in the whole being human thing, bc at first it was Easy™, he had no real friends, no family, just a persona to maintain while in town after eating some rich dude and forging his will so he could exist in Hawkins.

Anyways. Steve knows he's not the only fucked up thing in town, in fact, after becoming attached to Nancy and seeing the amount of grief the upside down causes her, he pretty much goes and starts a new diet based entirely of demo-creatures, as Steve can technically eat /anything/ it was just that humans were easy to come by.

When El seems to pop out of nowhere, Steve tries to avoid her with all his might, but eventually she finds him and they have a Talk™ about whether or not he's a danger to her friends.

All the upsidedown plots end up sidetracked not only by hormones, but the local monster dealing with it better than a bunch of humans can.

Still, the only reason they haven't caught on at all is mostly bc they think Steve is a weirdo. But like, psychologically insane, instead of biologically different from them.

The first time they realize is when Steve finally realizes what the dynamic is and, even though it's a bit late, fakes a first heat, he doesn't manage to get the Scent right and they're all immediately onto it.

So he ends up confessing he just wanted to be an Omega bc he really likes Eddie, and discovered that way he could totally be his partner and everyone is kinda endeared.

Eddie is going insane about the fact that the party wants to skip over the fact Steve is a literal monster who's been eating upsidedown creatures for years, but after a bit of processing accepts letting Steve try to court him, even if that's nowhere near Eddie thought his life was going, but he DOES like Steve a lot, might be kinda in love with him, actually.

So anyways, they live happily ever after even if people judge the fact that they're a Male alpha/ male "beta" couple bc they can't have children (they totally can though, it's just that no one has asked Steve yet, when Eddie finds out about this he immediately asks if they can have at least one, Steve is happy with that development).

steve doing his best to play omega so he can be with eddie 🥺

#slick sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #a/b/o #omegaverse #monsterfucking #my asks #cw mpreg #tw mpreg #mpreg

155 notes · View notes

cannellee · 1 year

Note

May I make a comfort request with alpha baji and an omega reader who basically tries to go against their instinct nc they were raised in a household where they were shouted at, belittled and then ramen advantage of when they needed it the most. (During heat siblings would mess with them and fuck with their stuff and when darling got angry, they were ranted to fight and got their ass beat)

Sorry I'd it's a little specific, I'm just having a bad day right now and I guess I want comfort.

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ★

୨୧ alpha! Baji x omega! Reader

— his reaction to an insecure & traumatised omega s/o.

tw : mention of domestic violence, psychological abuse...

(thank you for requesting🫶🏼, I really wish you get better and that everything's okay for you:( I hope you like it!! angst isn't what I'm best at so I hope it's still okay!)

my masterlist : ☆

you & baji met in a weird way, nobody would have assumed you would end up together.

baji was just so overwhelming, with strong pheromones, strong aura and a presence which subconsciously drew you to him.

and you were just an insecure omega, not as comfortable with your second gender as your counterparts were.

baji knew of your insecurities, that's why he always made sure to remind you of how perfect of an omega you were.

he would scent you every hour of the day, partly to claim you and keep away other alphas, but also to make it clear to you that you were loved. really loved.

coming into baji's life was the best thing to ever happen to you. you lacked so much confidence baji practically had to beg you to go out with him.

dozens of courting gifts were apparently not enough of a sign that he was clearly into you.

still, he was persistent and finally, you got your dream mate.

baji's the best alpha you could hope for. being aware of the way you were treated, he obviously did his best to make you feel safe and comfortable.

but there were days where your mood was worse than usual and baji just wasn't there at the right time to lift your mood up.

so here you were, gobbling up a fist full of pills to suppress your pheromones. your scent, as delicious as baji told you it was, disgusted you and you couldn't help but think about how your family would be way more satisfied if you got rid of it.

so you did. you also messed up your nest, destroying it and spreading the soft items baji precociously scented for you earlier this morning.

you curled up into yourself on your bed, hating your omega instincts for pleading you to get back into your nest, and cried yourself to sleep. it seems it's the only thing you're good for.

when baji came home and didn't immediately detect your strawberry scent, he knew something was wrong.

with his nose scrunched up and eyebrows frowning, he tried hard to smell you but he just couldn't.

when he called you and you didn't answer, he started to get anxious.

cautiously enters the living room and finds an empty bottle of pills, he paused for a second because those were pheromones suppressant your promised him to never use again.

those were bad for your health and baji thought he made sure to throw away all the remaining ones and lecture you to the importance of your well being.

he went to your bedroom, now more worried than ever and when he found you curled up in a ball and the end of the bed he thought he could feel his heart break.

baji quickly connects the dots when he cradles you in his arms and he doesn't even smell a thing coming from you. gently wakes you up and makes sure to let you know you're safe now.

he knows you're very vulnerable in this state, and although he's worried sick and a bit mad you neglected your health like that, he doesn't wish to alarm you any further.

although he can't sense any pheromones emanating from you, he just knows you're distressed and need his presence.

that's why he quickly reorganise your nest, scents everything he can and tucks you inside your poorly made shelter.

you're not fully conscious when his big arms hug your trembling frame, but his scent alone is enough of a relief that you don't even need to open your eyes.

he kisses you softly and makes sure you're as comfortable as one can be, covering you with blankets and letting your head rest against smooth pillows.

he soon spreads his own pheromones, making them sweeter than they normally are to appease you and pull your nose into the crook of his neck, where his scent is the strongest.

by the time you're fully awake, his presence calmed you down enough that you can completely look at him now.

his relief is visible by how his eyes soften when you give him an apologetic smile.

it pains baji to see his omega, the one he swore to protect, so weak and suffering.

he feels like a total failure, not good enough of an alpha for you.

later when you're doing better, he talks things out with you. make you promise once again to reach out to him, no matter when if you're feeling so terrible again.

if only baji could turn back time to shield you from all those people who hurt you, he would. his omega doesn't deserve the pain she's inflicting herself, both mentally and physically.

you're the best omega he could dream of, how could someone ever want to hurt you?

for now he needs to assure you it's totally fine being who you are ; yes you can surround the both of you with your oh so sweet smell, whine and complain about everything, let baji feed you and care for you.

he can be strong for the both of you, that's what he's good at<3

386 notes · View notes

fbfh · 1 year

Text

Jacob Black x mate/imprint!reader first rut hcs

wc: 1.9k

genre: smut, tooth rotting fluff, werewolf heat/monsterfucking ig

pairing: Jacob x imprint!reader (afab, no pronouns)

warnings: general werewolfy stuff, awkward heat/rut talks, BIGASS breeding king, Jake can smell when you're ovulating, Jake is posessive and clingy and adorable and hot, knots, oral (reader recieving), face down ass up position, biting and hickeys, scenting, a ton of creampies, cum plugging, growling/primal kink??, aftercare

summary: Jacob is the best boyfriend you've ever had, so when he tells you there's a little problem he's going to need help with soon, you're more than happy to help him out with it

a/n: starting to write my first actual original book today and I am so stoaked!!!!!! wish me luck uwu I think yall are really really gonna like it and I'm super excited ksflkjslkjs

also I'm adding people who asked to be tagged for a/b/o and omegaverse content bc it's in the same ballpark imo

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280 @yelenabel0vaswife @lizziebitch33 @sunshineangel-reads @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @demirunner @almostjollypizza @fictionalcomfortss @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @urmum-xoxo @raajali3 @Ronnasey @lubsana @demirunner @legramilis @girlfriendwhoseawitch

As with all nsfw works all characters are aged up to 18+

That being said, let’s get into it

Bc oh BOY is this one a doozy

You and Jake fell in love at first sight

You met by chance

He helped you when you had car trouble and the chemistry was instant and the rest was history

What actually happened is that Jake could smell you from like a full mile away

He was so drawn to you

Then he could smell you starting to panic, and he knew he had to make sure you were okay

So he appeared out of nowhere in his human form right when you needed him most

You were so relieved that someone was there to help you, especially someone so good with cars

And especially especially someone so hot and friendly and charismatic and attentive

From jump street, Jake obviously liked you a lot

So you couldn’t turn down his offers to get coffee and lunch and show you around town

He was relieved you didn’t turn him down either, because what you saw as Jake flirting with you was actually him imprinting on you

You’re not a wolf

You’re not aware of the supernatural world at all, as far as he knows

So he’s basically just been spending as much time as he possibly can with you

Imprint bonds are strong as fuck

So for both physiological and psychological AND emotional reasons

He needs to spend as much time with you as possible

And you want to spend time with him too

Not to the wolf extent

But still

There’s only one problem

You’ve been together for three amazing whirlwind weeks

And you already feel like you’ve known each other for your whole lives

He can tell that even though you’re not a wolf, you can feel the bond between you too

You might not know what it is, but you know that it’s there

Everything is happening so fast, but it doesn’t give you a bad gut feeling

Or any red flags

Like anywhere

You’re starting to wonder if maybe this is the true love fairytale romance you had always hoped for

That maybe soulmates are real

And you found yours

And Jacob feels the exact same way

He’s given it a lot of thought, and he really believes that even if he hadn’t imprinted he would still like you more than he’s liked anyone before

He could go on for days about how amazing you are, and he’s determined not to let anything come between you

Not to let anything sabotage this beautiful love, this bond between you

But the only problem is that the full moon is getting closer and closer

And it’s the first full moon since he imprinted on you

Not all imprints are romantic in nature, but this one definitely is

Which means now since he has a mate, he’s going to start getting his rut

And he has to spend it with you, which means he has to explain it to you

Which means it’s finally time for the most awkward conversation of his life

He’s not scared to tell you he’s a werewolf

But he is scared to tell you that you’re starting to smell so good he gets hard when you’re not even in the room

That his feral wolf brain is taking over, and all he’s been able to think about for the last 48 hours is filling you up

Stuffing you full of his seed and knotting you nice and tight to keep it all in place while he gets you irrefutably pregnant, all nice and full and round with a big litter of pups

And it’s getting worse

His thoughts are straying more and he knows he’s running out of time to explain that he’s either going to need to be chained to a tree or inside of you for anywhere from 24 to 96 hours

And since it’s his first rut since finding you, it’s almost definitely going to be longer, closer to four days than not

He’s over at your place like he has been for the last week or so, and he decides to talk to you about it when

He thinks he can handle this

He totally thinks he can handle this

Then you step out of the shower, and you smell all sweet and fresh and extra you

He sighs wistfully, realizing how much harder this is going to be

“C’mere for a sec, I want to talk to you…”

He trails off, pulling you onto his lap

He can sense that you’re worried, that you want to make sure he’s okay

And it makes him blush

He giggles, burying his face in your neck for a moment

You’re worried about him

Eventually he bites the bullet and confesses everything

You actually take it surprisingly well

He can tell you don’t fully believe him yet, but you don’t seem freaked out

“There is… one other thing…”

He manages to get through the mates and heats and ruts talk without dying of embarrassment

But he does start to get distracted part of the way through

Like really distracted

He snaps out of it for a few moments when he trails off after part of an explanation, and you chuckle, resting your hand on his cheek

“Even if you weren’t a werewolf, I would still be down to spend all weekend together.”

His stomach flips as he realizes what you’re saying

“So-”

“I’d be happy to help you through your heat or rut or whatever it’s called.”

His stomach flips when you say that

He genuinely didn't think he could get more attracted to you, then you say that

And then, something else happens

“I’m so glad!” he smiles, beginning to ramble again, “and if you want to stop, or if I’m too rough, or if it’s too much, just tell me to, uh…”

You’re already agreeing, and promise you will as he tries to regain his train of thought

His eyes get kind of distracted, and he leans closer to you, sniffing

He buries his face in your neck and takes a few big, deep breaths

It makes you giggle until he pulls away and looks at you more intensely than he ever has

His pupils are dilated and he’s laser focused on you

“Are you ovulating?”

You check your cycle tracking app and yeah

Yeah you’re supposed to be ovulating today

He sniffs you again, shoving his face into your neck

His grip on your waist gets tighter and you can feel him getting hard below you

Your eyes widen when it just keeps growing and growing

He pants against your neck, breathing in your scent and starting to grind against you, moving your hips against his

You lose yourself for a moment before remembering what he asked you a moment ago

“Wait- how did you know that?”

“Could smell it,” he mutters into your skin, rocking your hips harder against his and growling into your ear

“I… I think it’s starting, I need- I need to… I need to get you out of these clothes.”

He picks you up and tears your pajamas off in a blur

He carries you into your bedroom, laying you face down on your soft duvet

His breath is heavy he manhandles you into a more comfortable position, and you can hear him tearing his clothes off behind you just as quick

His big hands grab your hips, finally pulling down your panties

They stick to your soaked cunt, and send a fresh wave of your pheromones swirling intoxicatingly through the air around him

You hear him let out a shuddering sigh, then suddenly feel warm breath against your soft folds

You let out a noise as he licks you, nuzzling into your cunt, before pulling back and spitting on it

He pokes and prods you with his tongue, working it further inside you as his fingers come up to play with your clit

Werewolf saliva has healing properties and can increase elasticity during heats and ruts, so it’s a pretty common practice

His hands and mouth feel so good, you’re not complaining

He makes you cum twice on his tongue before deciding you’re stretched out enough to take him

You feel him move behind you and grab your hips, pulling them back to meet his

This energy (it’s the horny wojak thinking about getting railed meme)

His breathing is heavy as he pushes in slowly

“Tell me if it’s too much. Promise you’ll tell me angel, okay?”

You nod and manage to choke out that you will

Once you do that, it’s game over

The last amounts of self restraint Jacob possessed fade away as he completely loses himself in you

He starts thrusting into you at a brutal pace

He manhandles you, moving your body and positioning you closer to him

The next two or three days are going to be a hazy blur of cum and love bites and feeling the bulge of his knot and cock in your stomach

That’s all you’ll really be able to remember in your fucked out state

When he goes into heat, he’s already gonna be really fucking feral and primal

But when he goes into heat with you for the first time????

Oh my fucking god

It really is a good think werewolf spit can stretch you out, bc there’s no way you’d be able to take his cock, much less his knot otherwise

He grabs onto you so tight and possessive, completely pinning you down with his body weight

You could not wiggle out of his grip if you tried

He makes you cum two or three times in the first few minutes, so you know this is going to be a long, overstimulating night

But GOD everything he does feels so overwhelmingly good

He bites your neck, licking and rubbing against you to scent you even more aggressively

So expect to be covered in hickeys and love bites too

Oh my god the noises this man makes??????

Jesus fucking christ

Moaning, panting, growling right in your ear

You can’t get enough

Because you’re extra stretchy from his prep, the stretch of his knot filling you up more than you could imagine feels so incredible

He’s probably going to knot you at least twice before you’re both ready to pass out

Once you’re a quivering fucked out mess that’s literally dripping cum out of you, he’ll pull out very reluctantly

Then you hear a drawer open, and he grabs something

He pushes a toy inside you to keep as much of his cum in there as possible while he goes to get you guys water and snacks

Once he’s back he’ll absolutely feed you

He’s overwhelmed with instincts to take care of you, so of course he’s going to feed you

One thing about Jacob is he will keep you fed and bred

And you really can’t complain

He’s so loving and attentive and speaks to you so sweetly, peppering kisses across your face and telling you how good you’re doing

After that he’ll take the toy out and slide himself back in

Then pull you into his warm chest for the coziest heaviest most sticky restful nap you’ve ever taken in your entire life

Once you’re both up later, expect to do the whole thing over again

And again, and again

Cause that’s pretty much all you’ll be doing for the next three days

And you can promise this is not the last rut you’ll help him out with

#jacob black #jacob black x reader #jacob black smut #jacob black headcanons #twilight #twilight x reader #twilight smut #twilight headcanons

733 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 3 months

Text

WIP excerpt for ducksandswans behind the cut; the wet nurse omegaverse. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“What do you need to get through this?” Bruce asks, because getting Clark through this as emotionally stable as possible is still the obvious priority.

“I need to have been a better mother,” Clark says tiredly, shaking his head. “But we missed that boat, so just–don’t worry about it. I’m fine. I can handle existing in the same building as a wet nurse for a little while.”

Existing in the same DEN as a wet nurse who’s going to be feeding both your pups for possibly months? Possibly YEARS? Bruce doesn’t say. They don’t know how long Lor’s going to need a wet nurse. Don’t know if they’re even capable of actually creating a formula his system will accept, much less actually do well on. Clark grew up malnourished on human milk, even coming from a packmate who’d adopted him as her own pup, and he was three when Martha and Jonathan found him.

Lor’s likely going to have health issues, and he might need to nurse longer than a human pup for lack of the full nutrition he needs; might just want to. And what, Clark and Lois are going to wean a three or four year-old if they don’t absolutely have to? Also, given the kind of sire and dam he came from, he might not take well to being “abandoned” by someone he has a bond with. Even a feral bond. And given how strongly Carl reacted to him in turn, and the fact they feral-bonded at all . . .

It’s going to be a long time before they can wean Lor even if they do manage a successful formula or supplement for him. At least, it’s going to be a long time if they don’t want to incite severe psychological distress in a toddler.

“You’re being exactly the mother Chris needs,” Bruce says evenly. “You’re taking care of him, whatever it takes.”

“I can’t even get milked up for him when he’s starving,” Clark says tightly, folding his arms under his chest and staring back out the window.

Bruce doesn’t think Clark would appreciate hearing that PTSD symptoms aren’t that easy to ignore. It’s something he knows, but not something he’s willing to acknowledge. He blames himself. Hotels it against himself. Carries it like a weight that even Superman can’t be expected to take.

It’s understandable, but it’s also a problem.

“That’s not reflective of your ability to be a parent,” Bruce says.

“It is right now,” Clark says as he shakes his head, his voice gone even tighter. “Lois and I don’t even have another omega in our family pack. I should’ve at least–I could’ve found another omega to nurse Jon years ago. He was four, and we made him stop nursing without even going through the actual weaning process. We could’ve taken someone in or just–”

He cuts himself off. Keeps staring out the window.

“You can’t be expected to force a pack bond like that,” Bruce tells him. “No one ever did expect you to.”

“But I could’ve,” Clark says. “I should’ve. Chris could’ve died because I didn’t. And what if I’d gotten pupped again? We couldn’t have kept them. I couldn’t have–what could we have even done?”

“We’d have had nine months, Clark,” Bruce reminds him patiently. Clark’s obsessing over irrelevant fears, and they both know they’re irrelevant, but Bruce still can’t help presenting options for dealing with those fears. It’s the same thing as Clark’s irrelevant fears, as a response. “We’ve already found a wet nurse Lor accepted, and we’re still in early stages with the supplement and formula tests. There would’ve been plenty of time.”

There’d be plenty of time if it happened now, even. And given they’re already working on formula for a purely Kryptonian pup . . .

Bruce makes a note to get working on a version specialized for Kryptonian-human hybrids, once they manage something for Lor.

Assuming they ever do, anyway. It’s possible they just can’t produce what a Kryptonian pup actually needs on Earth. Not without a Kryptonian dam.

Better to realize that’s a concern now, though, as opposed to after Clark does get pupped again or Jon grows up and sires a pup of his own–one who might need the same things Lor does, and not be old enough to survive without all of them, or not have powers strong enough to absorb as much from the sun that would keep them alive, or–

It’s better to have realized it now, especially when they don’t even know if Lor actually will be able to survive on a human omega’s milk.

It’s an ugly thought, but Lor has a better chance for a better life here than he does back with his sire and dam, and they can’t even trust his sire and dam would actually take care of him if they did send him back. Lor doesn’t have another option.

A pup or a litter that Jon one day sired deliberately, though, without knowing better . . . it would’ve been much worse, if they’d had this problem then.

Though it’s bad enough having it now, of course.

Bruce very, very much hopes that a human omega’s milk is enough to keep Lor reasonably healthy, at least for now. It’d be better if Kryptonian pups didn’t eat so much, probably–he’s sure Lor was only fully satisfied today because he’s been so hungry for so long–but anything that’ll buy them time to figure out a better fix is better than nothing at all.

He doesn’t dwell on the fact that Lor didn’t tolerate a single one of the formulas they’ve tried, or the fact that Jon refused formula when Clark stopped nursing him. It’s not conclusive evidence.

Lor did take to Carl’s milk, Bruce reminds himself. And feral-bonded with him immediately, too.

But that’s not conclusive either, of course.

#ducksandswans #wip: the wet nurse omegaverse #omegaverse

75 notes · View notes