#Beta!reader

[specialgradefckr]

Heatwave: Day 1

tw: explicit content, 5k+ words, reader/sukuna. female!reader, beta!reader, alpha!sukuna, true form!sukuna. oral (male/female receiving), PIV, size difference, sukuna has a knot, sukuna is lowkey a masochist, some anal (not the reader's ass).

Prompt: Betas serving as royal sex concubines without fear of pregnancy.

It wasn’t as bad as one might expect, being Ryomen Sukuna’s concubine.

Oh, he was terrifying, certainly. Death wasn’t uncommon in the household, though rarer than some might think.

Sukuna traveled often, sampling both the lands and the people within them, returning to the estate only when it pleased him to do so.

Everyone in the estate knew their master’s expectations and the consequences for not meeting them. Only the rare missteps resulted in punishments, though they were indeed brutal.

On some occasion, the lord’s aide would bring half-dead curses - or corpses of enemy sorcerers - to a separate building on the estate for some strange and nefarious purpose.

It made no difference to you. The estate was clean and well-maintained, the servants attentive, and the stocks never ran low.

You were living the perfect life.

No one denied you anything. You could summon merchants, make the odd trip into town, and entertain yourself however you wished, provided you fulfilled your responsibilities as a concubine.

You were a nobody before you came to the estate.

You’re still a nobody, but everyone here is a nobody in Ryomen Sukuna’s eyes.

Your lifespans are determined by how useful you were to him at any given moment.

And he had an unexpected use for a common whore like you.

It was probably more surprising that you were a beta, and not an omega – infinitely more desirable for an alpha like the lord, one would assume.

You’d never presumed to pry before, but it’s easy to speculate, after having known him long enough.

He’s a powerful man, utterly indifferent to societal standards or norms. His desire and satisfaction were above all other things, just as he was above everyone weaker than him. And everyone was weaker than him.

It was hard to imagine him at the mercy of an omega’s potent pheromones, longing for the comfort of his partner’s nest, pining for the love of his mate, or driven madly to lust by the scent of a rut.

Or perhaps he indulged plenty, but so much fervor could only end in bloodlust on his part. Any omega summoned to his chambers to serve his pleasure never returned.

You do fare luckier in that respect. He may not have been gentle lover, but as long as you’d served him he’d left you with no more than bruises and bite marks.

And he could hurt you, destroy you, utterly disfigure you in permanent and terrifying ways… with just a casual glancing blow.

Sukuna is present on this night, though, and it appears he’s summoned you.

His aide, Uruame, is far closer to him than any of his concubines, and by now you know the sound of their footsteps slowing as they near your door.

They smile at you as you open the door for them, bowing before your eyes meet theirs.

Uruame is not fond of any of their lord’s concubines, as a rule. Being a beta themselves, it’s unlikely they understand Sukuna’s needs as an alpha any better than you do.

But what they can understand is that you respect their lord immensely. A sorcerer yourself, you know enough to appreciate the scale of his power, and you had never made any secret of your admiration.

Unlike many other concubines brought in, you had very little arrogance to show for your beauty and bedroom skills. Uruame probably does appreciate that.

You’re a beta from a brothel, so you have no delusions of self-importance, but Sukuna, and by extension Uruame, couldn’t care less where you came from.

You know their purpose as soon as they arrive; they don’t need to engage in any inane conversation or instructions.

As soon as Sukuna had returned, you’d readied and dressed yourself in case he were to summon you. It happens more often than not whenever he’s back at the estate.

You suspect you’re the only one he summons during his rut.

His omega concubines are… single-use. Your fellow betas are few in number, and he’s no more forgiving with his concubines than he is his other servants.

You follow Uraume to his room. You can’t tell if he’s in a rut or not, but your suspicion is confirmed as Uruame gives a short nod, then strides off.

Sukuna doesn’t like being seen during his rut. Many have learned the hard way.

“Well? What are you waiting for, an invitation?” His voice is as gruff as ever. Low, heady, a delicious groan that sends shivers down your form.

He didn’t ask to be answered, of course. The only appropriate response to Sukuna’s question is action.

Quickly you slide the door open and shut it behind yourself as you fall into a low bow. You don’t meet his eyes without permission.

“Get up.” Your cue to sit up, to not bother with any further formalities. His rut must be well underway. “Come over already.”

You don’t waste any more time. He sounds impatient, and he probably is, but any less deference could see your head separated from your body. It’s especially important not to touch him first, to let him touch you.

Sukuna loathes being touched without permission.

It’s not something you have to worry about, though. As soon as you’re within reach, one of his hands bears down onto your shoulder; to him, it’s as good as an explicit instruction.

You never subject Sukuna to the indignity of having to voice his desires.

Perhaps that’s why he likes you so – there’s a flash of something pure alpha, an intense delight in his eyes as you kneel and attend to him in prefect obedience and submission.

Falling to your knees at his feet, wasting not even a second, you work to free his painful erection from the confines of his clothes.

Practiced hands accomplish it easily, and you’re rewarded with a large hand that strokes through your hair, brushing it back out of your face and holding it there.

His erection springs forward, as impatient as he is. His knot is already swollen up.

It’s red and flushed, pink to match his hair, heavy and thick like all the rest of his limbs.

Even an omega would blanch at taking such a monster. You are well-trained.

It’s enough just to lick at it, some cursory strokes to wet the shaft with his precum, to touch your lips to his heated flesh. Searing, really.

Wide, open-mouthed kisses dragged along him until his cock is coated well enough with spit and his own pre.

Without any further hesitation you open your mouth wide and take him all the way down to the knot, lips thinning where his cock swells and throbs.

The head is already lodged in your throat, and you swallow as you take it down, pressing your lips in. A moan tells you he’s already growing sensitive.

It wouldn’t feel very good for him to knot in your throat – he’s never bothered with it before – but there’s always a flash of satisfaction in his eyes.

Sukuna doesn’t want to knot your throat, but it pleases him to think that he could. That you are willing and ready to take it, if he wished.

“Good little beta." The mouth on his abdomen seems to grin at you, wide and dripping saliva.

A fire ignites in your belly at the praise, face heating up, your own mouth opening wide.

No matter what you are, Sukuna is an alpha through and through, and the desire to please surges as his hand presses you forward.

As a concubine or a common harlot, you’d always been good at your job.

Sorcery had delivered you from the streets and into Sukuna’s estate, and diligence, determination, had kept you alive throughout it all.

Others died around you. Weak. You would do whatever it took to survive, however ugly it may be.

Taking cock down your throat isn’t even close to the most degrading thing you’ve done, and at least there’s only one man now for you to serve.

He’s not even a bad lay. Either a suppressed instinct to please his mate as an alpha or some fortuitous chemistry has always ensured he brings you to release whenever you fuck.

The unmarred half of his face is undeniably handsome, and after all you’d seen, you’re utterly indifferent to the deformity. It’s just there. A part of him like any other – the other arms, the other mouth.

You’re sure you yourself have flaws in his eyes, but if he truly did not want you, you’d never have been allowed in his chambers to begin with. Sukuna is a man with absolutely no interest in pretenses. He takes what he wants, when he wants it, always.

Sometimes, you think that you and Sukuna aren’t all that different after all.

An alpha who was malformed, cast out by society, recognized only in disgust or fear.

And you, sold by a father eager to make any money he could off a pretty beta daughter.

You were unfit to be an alpha’s bride, but perfectly suited to be every alpha’s whore.

If you wanted happiness, you had to seize it, even if it meant choking the life out of someone else.

Both of you were worth only as much as you could curse others. Sukuna’s worth is greater than yours, but in his shadow everyone is equally worthless, and in his gaze – at least for this moment – you are worthy of him.

The fingers in your hair tighten; a hiss, “Take it!” and you suckle diligently as you bob backwards, diving forward straight away to take him to the root again.

Inhuman though he may be, his cock is much the same as any other alpha’s, if a bit larger.

Hot, smooth skin, veins that pulse and bulge inside your mouth. A salty taste you’d grown accustomed to, a stretch in your mouth and your jaw that you ameliorated by focusing on hollowing your cheeks, dragging your tongue along it.

Betas can’t purr, not like omegas or alphas can, but you approximate it with a hum, a gentle sigh through your nose and fluttering, lowered lashes.

A low exhalation. Controlled. “There she is…” The hand in your hair goes to stroke possessively over your cheek. “My little beta. All for me.”

His eyes dilate in lust – you always meet his gaze while you do this, for as long as you’re able, you know he likes this – and you know before you feel the touch of his hand on your jaw to begin drawing back.

His hand barely ghosts you before you move, leaving trails of saliva strung between your lips and his shining cock while you gaze up at him.

Another theatric he enjoys. His tongue darts out from his lips, grasping and stroking himself, hand coated in a sweet-smelling oil you recognize.

His other arms reach to grasp you by the shoulder, pulling you up to stand and burying your face in his neck wordlessly.

They wrap around you, pulling you into him as he steps back to sit on the bed where you follow.

It surprises you every time, just how much your body comes alive at his touch.

Heart racing as if it can jump through your skin and into the hands that trace your throat, your collarbone, down your chest, dragging the slip of a robe you’d worn down with it.

Sukuna likes undressing you, alpha that he is.

Like you’re a sacred treasure to be unveiled only by his hands. You always wear something easy to take off, and nothing else.

His touch is your leave to respond in kind; he’s fully bared, now, all tattooed skin and corded muscle.

A warrior’s form, conveying power and strength in every divot and valley. Your heart races as you lay your hands on him.

Maybe it’s the thrill of it.

Sukuna is utterly untouchable. The greatest sorcerers of your time had died failing to scratch the smooth, unbroken skin he offers to you so freely.

As a concubine, you don’t get much contact. Less still, since no one would dare lay a hand on a consort Sukuna summons so often to his side.

Normally that suited you just fine, but sometimes with him you feel like a dog straining on a leash.

Desperate for him to reach out, to feel him on you. Lust and adrenaline coursing through you the instant he makes contact.

Even as a beta, this close, it’s impossible not to smell him; he’s pulled you to his throat on instinct.

His scent glands are right there, and you don’t hesitate to lick at them, letting your breath ghost over the hot, spit-slicked skin. Dragging your teeth along the swollen flesh.

That’s one of the things he likes best. He knows you’re a beta. You have no fangs, you couldn’t mark him if you wanted to. Not with anything but curses.

But still, it is a pleasure. The salt on your tongue, the flesh that yields beneath your teeth, even without breaking, as the alpha’s aroma fills your senses.

Sukuna is spiced; harsh, in some ways, like cinnamon, but warm like a pleasant woodsmoke, like the heat of oil burning in a lamp. Just this side of decadent – opulent, almost, and still primal and raw.

It doesn’t affect you like you imagine it would an alpha or omega. But it’s nice. He smells nice.

You don’t hesitate to nip at his lips when he presses them to yours.

Perhaps one of the reasons Sukuna hates being touched without permission is because he also doesn’t care to be touched gently.

If he weren’t in rut, you would have dragged your teeth over his cock while it was in your mouth, but he’s not able to savor such services in his current state.

They’re red, so red, all his four eyes staring into you. Burning in want. In want of you.

��Fierce little thing.” You can taste his grin, you’re close enough. “See how fierce you’ll be when you’re full of me. My beta. Mine.”

“Yours,” You agree breathily, and lean back in to catch his mouth with your own.

His lips are one place you’re able to make him bleed, dragging the bottom lip beneath your teeth and pinching it, then darting your tongue in to taste.

Sukuna hums at the taste of metal in his mouth, sucks your tongue between his lips to press and purse and suckle on at his leisure. Brilliant red eyes half-lidded in lust.

Your hands get to work, one of them cupping his jaw and then his hair, brushing it back in a way that makes him preen now that he’s in rut and can’t suppress it.

Alphas love getting petted, and Sukuna loves the scrape of fingernails over his scalp, a tight tug against his hair; it all sends his knot pulsing against you.

“Here. Your mouth had a taste, let’s see how your cunt likes it.” His arms lift you up just enough to sit over his well-muscled legs.

Your thighs spread while his cock falls forward, between your thighs.

Sukuna holds you there, just far enough, letting it rub against you with little tugs to your hips. Desire sparking like flint where his length rubs against you. Fuck.

Oh, you want him. Ache for him. It pulls low in your core, to lean into him, to feel his arms holding you in place, to feel him all against you.

You wrap your arms around him in return, clawing at his shoulders as the mouth on his stomach tongues between your legs. It’s exquisite and agonizing all at once. Slick and dragging against you, heavy and broad.

He’s already purring at the taste of you. Hands clenching in desire over the roundness of your hip.

You want him. You want him.

You can have him, take him, touch, touch, touch. Dig your teeth into the firm muscle against his neck to feel his purr grow louder under your teeth.

Your curse technique flickers at your fingertips, dancing over the open canvas of his back.

Inhaling sharply, you think you hear him swear, and then, “Yes.” He laughs breathily, “More. Put more into it. That can’t be all you’ve got.”

It isn’t. The sound of him is everywhere now, vibrations that shake you all the way to your core.

The mouth on his belly still laps at your folds. It drools on your folds like you’re a meal he cannot wait to savor.

Sukuna is already running hot. It’s too easy when he’s like this, all heated, blood pumping heavy through every part of him.

Just beneath the surface you feel it; searing, boiling, heat jumping up to meet your touch. Like liquid fire underneath his skin, you’d heard it described. Exhilarating, Sukuna had called it.

A talent half-learned by accident in the steamy, lurid, filthy recesses of the brothel you’d worked at. A dark place filled with malice and jealousy, reeking of curses in every corner. One day you’d awoken with a strength that sung in your veins, screamed to be used.

You had learned to vanquish shadows with a flick of your wrist, the creatures bursting from the inside.

Once, on a lark, you’d tried it on a client who struggled to maintain his hardness. It had been remarkably effective, pooling blood in his cock, and with a little work you were able to reproduce it in other ways.

It had all been success from there. Climbing the ranks, scoring pleasure into the flesh of those who paid you well enough.

Oh, it was painful, too, but what pleasure in life came without a little pain? If you wanted something, you had to be willing to sacrifice for it.

A founding principle of jujutsu. It’s no wonder Sukuna so delights in battle, either against sorcerers or in his own bed; when you heat his blood in his veins it sends his knot pulsing, throbbing, twitching in excitement as pre drips out.

With him holding you so close you can feel his purring throughout your whole body.

A rare pleasure, a prize you win with vicious effort, cursed energy surging in your hands as you rake your nails over the glorious, muscled expanse of his back.

“Open,” Sukuna commands.

It’s a tone that never fails that make you tremble in anticipation. Your cunt is already dripping with it.

The part of your legs widen, and you lean back to look down at where he’s settled against you.

He’s so large. Always so large. The knot swelling already.

You’re clenching already, quivering, like you’re the one in heat and not he in his rut.

God, you want him to fuck you already.

One massive hand reaches down, stroking over his cock, wet with your saliva, his precum, and the oil substitute for an omega’s slick.

It nudges at your cunt and you let out a short whimper that sends him snarling, thick fingers digging sweet bruises into your hips.

“Always so sweet for me,” His lips ghost over your temple as he stares down, “Delectable. Strong little thing, you can take it.”

The head of his cock slots against your entrance. Fuck, it’s hot, burning, searing, you’re so fucking ready, your cunt is weeping and you feel like keening for it, “Please. Alpha, please.”

You can almost see it in his eyes, red and feral with need. Omega, my omega, my mate – all the things you’ve heard from alphas before.

Clingy, possessive, biting at you, rutting into you like they can breed you. All the filthy things whose beds you’d warmed in the past.

They all pale in comparison to the King of Curses. Hot and throbbing and silken against your entrance, the deep grunt of effort that you feel when he lines himself up and drives himself in.

The very sensation knocks the wind out of you.

Sukuna slides in easily but it’s tight, so tight, always. You feel him feel it, too, all those muscles growing taut before you as he sinks into you.

Your arms tremble before they remember what to do; grasping carelessly at his shoulders, clawing for purchase as the whines claw their way up your throat. They’re shoved back down by the deep moan you make when he reaches the end of your passage.

“F-fuck,” it’s good, it’s so good, it hurts so good and there’s nothing you can do but sit there and take it. Just as he told you to.

It’s always a bit painful, but there’s a pleasure in it, too, the piercing delight of being so thoroughly fucked into. You swear you feel yourself dripping out where he enters you, and you moan again at the feeling of him dragging himself out.

A low noise, a chuckle; like every sound Sukuna makes, you feel it just as much as you hear it.

“Do it again.” He demands, and you would never make the alpha wait.

You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

He pushes into you again and your moans crack, because he slides through easier this time but it’s just so big, so fucking huge you feel your walls trying to flex, envelop him, desperate to find any give at all, but there’s just no give.

It’s like having solid steel lodged inside you, burning hot and smooth against your core.

“Good beta.” Sukuna effortlessly lifts you up by the hips, dragging you off his cock and savoring how you whine at its loss, “My good little beta. Squeezing me so tight.”

He drops you down, down, back onto him. Cock thrusting up into you, cleaving your cunt apart, hitting a spot that makes you wail. Sukuna laughs, and you can feel his cock twitching.

“Need my cock, do you, little beta?” The rut is at its height now, pulling him in, smearing possession all over his face, his evil grin. “Even if it breaks you apart?”

All you can do is nod while you pant. He pulls you up and down by the waist, fucking you on his cock like a tool for his pleasure –

And Sukuna has never failed to use a tool to its fullest extent. “Fuck, fuck – fuck, alpha, please – please, please – ”

His own laughter is broken up by heavy breaths. One of his huge hands grasps you by the scruff of your neck, and you try to go obediently limp but your whole body jerks with the unrestrained force of his fucking into you.

Tight and unforgiving, baring your throat for him to dive into. An alpha in the midst of his rut. His teeth graze over your neck, licking where scent glands would normally be.

“Please,” Your breath catches in your throat at Sukuna’s kiss, all teeth and feral smiles pressed into your skin.

He stays like that for a moment, knot pulsing desperately just outside of your cunt.

Grinding into you like he thinks he can fit it in – you both know it can’t, you simply don’t have the anatomical space of an omega. But it feels good.

So good. It rubs, hot and throbbing against your clit, and fuck if you don’t nearly cum from it right there, tightness in your core heavy and ready to burst.

“Sukuna,” You say his name in a broken moan.

Teeth in your jugular. Hot tongue over your throat.

Hands gripping your sides. Moving you up and down like a puppet.

Cock pressing and pressing into you, relentless. Pleasure lapping at your insides as his cock rocks into you, begging to be let in.

A thumb on your clit, rubbing circles. “Cum, beta. Cum for your alpha – hngh – cum now – ”

Pleasure bursts through you, as if brought to life by his words. White hot and overflowing, every part of your body floating on air.

It’s like you’re a feather in his hands. Airy lightness fills you and even the stretch between your legs feels pleasant, a welcome intrusion, cunt blissfully numb.

Sukuna fucks you through it all the while, breathless, determined, on the brink himself as he chases the friction of you squeezing the life out of him.

You twitch in his grasp, aftershocks trembling through. He holds you upright easily, letting your head fall forward while he drags you up and down, mindlessly brushing his burning knot against your entrance.

It’s several moments before you catch yourself; it makes no difference to Sukuna. Your climax brought him closer, but not there, not just yet.

It’s with the giddy sort of warmth your afterglow brings that you lazily grope the space next to the bed.

You find the vial of oil he’d used earlier, and easily unscrew the top and spread it across your fingers with a single hand.

Sukuna had stared a moment the first time he saw you do that. So you have a sorcerer’s dexterity after all, he’d said, and it was the compliment you’d treasured most to date.

This time, his eyes don’t leave your body. All four of them, red and fiery and burning into you. Your chest. Your face.

They linger where your bodies are joined, at the stretch of your cunt taking him, the hole that has no more to give him but squeezes him anyways.

You can tell by his ragged breaths he needs more stimulation, heavy in rut and knotted tight as he is. That’s fine. You’ve done this before.

Slicked fingers find his waist, and then lower, to his ass. He parts his knees further, as if for more leverage to thrust fruitlessly against you, and you take the opportunity to squeeze one well-muscled cheek with your dripping hand.

The sharp inhale – you’re sure he’d hate to hear it called a gasp – “Beta!” –  tells you you’re free to go ahead.

So you do, digging your fingertips into his ass, into a hole too well-oiled to not have been prepared beforehand.

A rumble swells, in his chest, his throat, pressing hard against you along with his cock, nudging his knot further against your entrance.

You tease along the rim and then drive into it. He hisses as it burns, knot throbbing against you, massive hands squeezing bruises and then caressing them as soon as they bloom.  

It’s delicious, the way it clenches at your fingertips, tight and furled up, but you slip in easily with his preparation and your oiled fingers.

Darting into the yielding warmth of his insides, a pleasure that has him seizing against you, all muscle and magnificent form trained on your touch.

Your cunt clenches at the thought, the power you have in this moment; it squeezes the cock spearing you and sends tremors through his form.

“Clever girl,” He rumbles as you drag along his insides, “Clever fingers,” another heavy thrust, fingers twitching, “More,” thrust, shudder, “More!”

With a heated urgency your fingers curl, feeling, pressing around in a way that has Sukuna panting, teething at your shoulder, kneading hands against your hips while you search for just the right spot.

His knot presses insistently against your entrance, where there’s no space for you to receive it, but it catches on your oversensitive clit enough to make you gasp and whine.

Sukuna grins, mouth wide open, drooling like the feral, satisfied monster he was.

“Beta…” he hums, and it feels like he’s saying your name, as close to a loving coo as a creature like him can make.

And then, then, you find it, as you have so many times before. A high, keening noise Sukuna would be otherwise unwilling to part with, drawn out from him in the height of his rut.

You press into a bundle of flesh through his insides. A spot that sends him rutting wildly against you, unconcerned with his knot or anything besides fucking and feeling more of that pressure into him.

It’s almost all you can do to keep it coming, your other arm flailing desperately to reach around him for any kind of purchase while he thrusts your mind away.

Pleasure finds you again but this is liquid flames instead of white hot.

It pours out from you, spilling everywhere, the feeling of his release spurting inside you.

Full, full, fuller, so full you swear you’re bursting, it feels so fucking good. Flowing out over his cock, against your cunt, where his hurried thrusts squeezes it into a lewd, sopping met against your clit.

This one brings tears to your eyes. The sound of it, wet and squelching, utterly lewd, like you can feel the tremors of pleasure that have you milking him for cum that cannot impregnate you.

His hands are all that ground you, points on your body where his touch had ceased to be painful, to be anything but a feeling of him against you, the warm and powerful alpha who’d taken you to his bed, monster or not.

Sukuna groans and pants his heart out, still fucking into you while your eyes are glassy and all movement has left your body.

Your clever little hand fallen to the side as its purpose was fulfilled, his knot finally unraveling into the delicious joy of breeding you.

Ahh. He can admit the look in his eyes when he looks at you is fondness, to some degree. His perfect little beta. Wicked fingers and the smartest mouth he’d ever seen. Always so good for him.

He lays himself down alongside you on the bed, still buried deep in you, cum leaking slowly away.

The mess never bothered him, not in the torrid, heated moments of bodies entwined. He’d bathe with you later.

So warm. Always warm and welcoming him, your cunt is the most exquisite hole he’s ever known, but it’s the rest of you that makes it worth his time. Every time.

There’s something about it that sends a frenzy through him.

A hurried urge, like a desire to run or jump or lash out, but instead it makes him want to wrap his entire self around you and laugh in wicked delight.

It feels like fire on the battlefield, blood on his tongue, power coursing through every pore, seas ready to part at his command. It feels like strength, but he’s not even holding you very tightly.

He takes a deep breath, face pressed to your hair; beta. A faint, pure, neutral scent, so unmistakable in its cause. It elicits no particular reaction, stirs no great curiosity or lust.

But you do. It’s easy, natural, to wrap all four arms around you and squeeze. Your perfect figure yielding in his grasp, compressing beneath him, legs folding as he swings one over yours.

A purr rumbles deep in his chest as the sensation envelops him.

Touching, holding, entwined. You, completely full of him, made docile with his cum and his knot, surrendering to his embrace. All his. All for him.

Your boneless, weak figure in his arms, the little sigh of bliss you let out… it’s a feeling that’s only come to him in the midst of battle, curses coursing, glorious, in every direction.

A thrill of triumph that enervates, lightens every one of his limbs and sets him with a feeling of utter satisfaction.

Sukuna is purring in earnest now, and he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed by it.

Why suppress his instincts for the beta that so perfectly warms his bed? Why restrain himself in any way, when you’re wholly incapable of binding him, of bearing pups or marking him, and serve him with such delectable vigor?

An arm, so much smaller than his, slowly slips itself over his waist. You’re barely conscious, pretty face all flushed from your climax, unable to even open your eyes.

But your head drifts towards his chest even while asleep, where the vibrations are the strongest. Tucked under his neck, nestled in him and his scent.

An alpha’s purr is usually a sign of contentment, but it’s supposed to be soothing to omegas. As far as he knows, it doesn’t have any particular effect on betas.

Sukuna supposes it’s probably just you.

It’s so easy to reduce you to want, to unrestrained lust, pure and devoted entirely to him. Why should he need an omega when he has this at his beck and call?

You can’t be bred, of course – that was the whole point of using a beta. But sometimes he does wonder.

What you would look like if you were with child. Breasts heavy with milk, the mild scent of a beta humming with the life nurtured within.

You’re strong. You’d produce fine offspring. Your curse technique is interesting in its own right – igniting a person’s own cursed energy from beneath their skin. Not remarkable in effectiveness, but wholly unique in its operation.

Would it stop his ruts, to see you pregnant for some time? You’re the only one he spends them with, so seeing you pregnant might just delay them, without the influence of an omega’s hormones. 

Would he grow more aggressive as you neared delivery? Would his instincts command him to slay your spawn so he could fill you with his own?

Uruame is a beta, and has the necessary parts. He could breed you without all the tiresome mechanics of a bond between alpha and omega; place his two favorite subjects together and watch as his loyal subject bred his most treasured concubine for him. 

Watching you take in the seed of someone other than him… but Uruame is a beta, and belongs to him as much as you do. If he scented them as well, perhaps? They always had very little scent of their own.

Heat stirs within him at the thought. It’s too early to tell if it’s anger at the idea or arousal, especially in the state he’s in.

You make a little noise, and all four eyes shoot down to look over your form, all sweat and heat and dripping cum.

He shifts to move some of his weight off of you, sliding onto his back and settling your head on his chest so you can drift to sleep to the sound of his purring.

After all, his rut is just beginning. Sukuna can spare you some rest…

For an hour or so.

[shmalk]

141 is filled with alphas, not a single omega in sight. there are a few betas, but they're either low-ranking or transfers that were never going to last.

like you! (beta!reader) who works at reception and takes calls, scans badges and is the first point of contact for the task force.

none of them know your name, none of them even speak to you - maybe price, when you transfer a call to him, he'll mumble a thank you. or even laswell, when you bring her a coffee.

it's nothing, really, you don't mind.

only, one day, a totally normal friday, you've done the exact same style in your hair you always have, and you're wearing more clothes than you were yesterday.

price wants a coffee, sure- you make it, just the way he likes, and head towards his office. you knock, and wait a few seconds until you hear 'come in.'

the office is silent, it usually is - but this time there's more than just price inside.

they're finishing up just as you enter, soap and gaz sitting in front of the desk whilst ghost leant against the back wall.

"my apologies, captain." your voice isn't exactly quiet - why should it be, you've done nothing wrong, but its still respectful. price just nods as you place the cup down on his desk.

"thanks, that's all." he dismisses everyone in the room, and you wait for the boys to file out before you do, soap and gaz both giving you a cheeky smile.

ghost is the one to hold open the door, standing just adjacent to the doorway with his arm sprawled against it. its a heavy door, and you swallow as you pass him.

"thank you," you all but mumble out as you rush past him - straight into the break room.

you can't help but rant about the situation to your roommate whilst you're packing up your things, your phone tucked between your jaw and shoulder.

"i mean- he held the door open for me and i couldn't even look him in the eye to say thank you!" you stress, throwing your bag into your passenger seat before leaning back against your car. "god, all i wan't right now is a plate of sushi and some boba."

"too bad its pizza night, dweeb."

"thats not fair! i could loose my job, i should be allowed to eat my comfort food when im stressed out."

you stress about it over the whole weekend, and when you return back to work on monday you try to act as casual as possible. of course, you don't see ghost - price doesn't order a coffee, and youre break time comes around quicker than you expected.

you had brought- oh, theres- your favourite sushi, and a boba drink sitting where your food was supposed to be. in somewhat messy hand writing, on a small piece of paper, theres your name.

signed ' s. riley. '

i am a sucker for sweet lil moments like this !!

in my head i think that simon would like a beta, or an alpha, but in this lil snippet (which is CERTAINLY getting turned into a fic) he's big and broad and gets worried when he's with alphas because they can't think straight, he tells them what to do and he does it.

but you? you dont react to his scent or chase him down to get him to court you - so, of fource, he courts you. <3

[diejager]

omegaverse anon here, could you do the cod group with a beta reader? Like, they stay really out of the way, not really used to getting any attention from alphas or omegas

Unusual Attraction Cw: omegaverse, awkward!reader, ell me if I missed any.

You were an oddity of a beta, your stronger nose made interacting with people harder than other betas, it made you stand out from your peers, they deemed you a beta stronger than the usual beta and that made you feel isolated and alone. You were used to alphas ordering you around and moving you from team to team for your nose and clear mind, you were a asset to have on certain teams where they needed a buffer that wasn’t an heat-prone omega. And despite your constant entourage of omegas and alphas, you never stopped flinching or wincing when someone’s scent became too strong, the musk burning your nose in an enclosed area like the mess hall, the training areas, or even public spaces. 

You preferred keeping to yourself, to alleviate the growing headache pounding at your head, to find a calmer corner of the base you were permanently moved to. You knew the people you worked with from prior assignments, a few times on month long covert operation and others on week long clandestine missions offshore, but you liked your silence when you could afford to find it. Even outside, their scents clung to your clothes, the strong smell of Price’s smoke and Ghost’s bourbon, the distinct notes of strength and dominance that screamed Alpha, Soap’s sweeter and softer citrus that you could pick up despite the scent blockers and Gaz’s gentle vanilla, a soothing calmness that reminded you that you weren’t the only buffer to the team, that you were the only beta.

“Found ye, Hound!” You liked the way Soap said your callsign, his accent coming into play to make it sound different —special. 

He swung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you to his side, your nose twitching from how close you were to his scent glands. You felt like he did it with intention, always finding a way to have you smelling like him and filling your mind with his scent, it was near addictive —so much so that you would’ve succumbed to it if you were an alpha, mind shutting off and body acting on it’s own volition. You wouldn’t blame anyone for it, Soap smelled so good, a sinful delight that people were deprived of, and when he wasn’t using the patches, it numbed your mind, made you slow and sloppy with your thoughts and acts. He knew the effect he had on you and he loved it from his constant hazing, flashing his gland in your face and drowning you in it whenever he could. Perhaps it was his claim on you, you never truly understood the whole dynamic, you were a buffer with a better nose, nothing more and nothing less.

“We were lookin’ fer ye,” he walked back in, still holding you in his grasp, “We’re going tae the pub. Thought ah’d come and get ye.”

They, on multiple occasions, had invited you to go drink with them, extending that olive branch your way with smiles and encouraging nods. You were tempted to accept, but you didn’t do well in enclosed and crowed spaces, so you declined over and over, but they never stopped asking you. It got to a point where you were waiting for them to stop asking, to tire themselves of befriended you, and yet, they never did, going so far as to pull you along despite your grumbling and exhaustion, promising a night of rest and relaxation at the pub. 

And fortunately, their words rang true, it was a blessing to your nose that the owners burned an overpowering but gentle incense that blocked all types of scents, a relief you rarely got. The only thing you could smell was the comforting scents of your new pack, the oil-packed burgers and fries, and the strong burn of alcohol, all thing that you didn’t mind as long as it came in moderation to your nose. After your first drunken and giggling visit to the pub with them, basking in their attention, Soap throwing himself over Ghost’s lap and grinning at you cheekily, Gaz leaning against your side, nuzzling the crook of your shoulder, Ghost’s big and warm hand grasping your thigh and Price looking on with so much pride. 

“The occasion?” You followed him blindly, blinking lazily at him.

“Yer third month with us,” he smiled widely, something carnal and wild, befitting more an alpha than the omega he was. Maybe that’s why he could easily pass as an alpha, with all his bravado and broadness, either way, he was a dangerous man alone, but as a Task Force, they were a menace.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry

[flowerfreya]

Cherry Wish

Heat Sick

Cherry Wish masterlist

CW: a/b/o dynamics , talk of heats , unintentional neglect, beta!reader,omega!simon, alpha!soap pairing: reader x ghoap Soap did something bad (not on purpose) and now needs reader help to fix it.

You haven’t seen them in almost a week and you're trying to not make it seem like a big deal but since it’s just you and your mind. It’s a pretty big deal. Everytime you hear the buzz of the automated door, you look over and see if it's them and every time it’s not them , you deflate little by little. You hate to admit it but you miss them. You're not used to people actually wanting you. Not used to people trying to be with you. Being a beta means that your dating pool is usually reduced to other betas and alphas that can’t find an omega. Your scent is not as strong as other betas, so you’ve been told by past partners but everyone knows that a scent is elevated when you feel something for your partner, which you have never. ~ You're walking into your shift when you hear someone call your name , turning your head , you spot Soap walking towards you in almost a haste, looking a little concerned. “What’s going on”, you say slowly, a little concerned because you don’t see Simon anywhere. “Lass, yer busy”, he says, something must be wrong. There was no preamble. No hello. Soap is usually annoying with how nice that he is. Something must be really wrong. “Where’s Simon”, you ignore the question he asked, opting to ask your own question, because you had a feeling that Soap question had a lot to do with where Simon is. “Answer me question first”, Soap growls. It shocks you and that’s really look at Soap. He seems sick. Bags under his eyes, face is dry and crusty, and his signature mohawk is deflated leaning over to one side. You decide to spare him , he needs it more than you. “Well yeah, I’m going to work. Only reason I would be here”, you say to him with a deadpan look. If you didn’t have to work the grocery store would be last on the list of places that you would go for fun. “You got heat leave”, Soap questions. “Why would I have heat leave when I’m a single beta”, you answer back. Starting to get annoyed. The store made you fill out paperwork when you got hired asking about your home life and designation. While heat leave is mandatory to give out, only omegas and spouses of omega’s can have it. They don’t want people to abuse it since they don’t need actual proof of a heat happening and still have to pay for full salary. Soap mutters under his breath , looking from side to side. Paranoid. “What’s going on”, you ask again. More harshly this time. Walking closer to Soap. That’s when you smell it. It’s like a bitter coffee, burnt wood and like when someone leaves the iron on the clothes for to long. It has you taking a step back , not expecting it. Then concern like no other washes over you. Simon. “Soap, tell me what’s going on”, you're scared that maybe Simon is hurt and alone and Soap is here asking about your schedule. You're confused and you need to get to the bottom of it. He starts to pace, hand pulling his fingers so hard you think that about to come out of the joint. “Can yer come with me”, he ask and before you can answer the question, he rattles a couple more: Do you have enough PTO to get a couple days off? They don’t give out PTO here. I think you may have imprinted on Simon. Shocker but not really considering how much they come to the store? His gland is swollen and it wont go down and he keeps asking about you?

Then with pleading eyes and a low whisper, “we need you”. “Okay”, you whisper back, already following him to the car. ~ You find Simon laying down in the backseats of the truck that Soap drove here. The smell of distressed alpha and omega is very stagnant in the air. You try your best to boost your calming and neutral scent to hopefully mask the smell of scared and afraid in the car. “Beta”, Simon whimpers, craning his hand towards you but not opening his eyes to do so. Turning around in the front seat , you're almost horrified to see Simon sweating and red with an engorged scent gland and tears in his eyes, “Hey, Simon baby”, you coo at him hoping to help with at least the emotional side of things before getting to the house and taking care of the physical. “Are you real?”, Simon ask. Taking his hand in yours, “Yeah baby, ‘m real”. Turning slowly to Johnny and trying to calm down so the smell of angry won’t waft off of you, hissing, ”what the fuck Soap”. He glances over to your face and then back at the road, “didn’t know what to do , he just kept calling for you and I thought it would resolve but then it just kept getting worse and worse” , his hand are gripping the steering wheel so tight they are turning a pale shade of his color. “You're his alpha, you're supposed to know when things are wrong or right with your omega”, when an omega goes into heat, all the responsibility for their wellbeing goes to the heat partner whether that be another omega or a beta or an alpha. An alpha has the easiest go of it since it has a great sense of smell and can easily tell when their scent changes. “How long has he been like this”, directing your attention back to Simon. Rubbing your wrist against his trying to get him to calm down. “Two day”, Soap say. “Two days?”, you growl which causes Simon to whimper not understanding that you aren’t mad at him, “not you baby”, you whisper to him causing him to relax once more. “What the fuck is your problem, don’t know how to take of an omega ?”, you say between clenched teeth. If it was any other alpha they would have been insulated that you're suggesting that they don’t know how to take care of their omega. Soap just hangs his head,shrugging his shoulder, “I guess not”

[xxelysium3ivalxx-blog]

Okay a little hot take but there’s not nearly enough Beta!Reader for omegaverse stories. Like yeah omega reader is cool. But I find it….overdone. I want a beta reader, a reader that feels unremarkable, totally average, yet is anything but. Idk I just want more beta!reader time to time

[thezombieprostitute]

I've had this concept floating in my head for weeks without knowing how to write it. You send this gif and it just clicks. Thank you!

Omega Hal Carter

Normally Hal doesn't mind being an Omega. Sure he's had to learn to deal with people looking down on him, thinking little of him, but there was a kind of freedom that came with that. And Hal's favorite thing is being free.

"Normally" however, was not today. Today was a festival that allowed the various packs to meet and mingle. A chance for new alliances and strengthening old bonds. Well, a chance for the Alphas to do that by picking out potential mates to be negotiated for. Hal was being used, under orders from Pack Alpha Fowler to look good, flirt with the female Alphas and not embarrass the Pack.

Hal loved flirting but all the female Alphas would talk about was keeping him trapped in the bedroom. Even if they were speaking metaphorically, he was terrified at the thought. He really didn't want to be treated like a pet: forced to stay indoors and only allowed outside on a leash. He took a much needed break from the Alphas and walked the outskirts of the festival.

Of course, even here he couldn't escape the influence of the Alphas. Several had been assigned to perimeter duty, making sure strangers didn't enter, but also that scared potential mates didn't run. He followed the scent of Alpha Barnes, an Alpha from his own pack; he used to be Pack Alpha but after getting captured by outsiders to save them, he'd lost too much of his mind. Most were scared of him but he and Hal worked well together.

As he neared Barnes he caught another scent. Female. Beta.

++++++++++++++

Some days it really sucked being a Beta. Most of the time you were happy to be allowed to do your own thing. Festival days helped remind you that only Alphas and Omega were actually wanted. At least as mates. You never felt more worthless than at these events.

You'd always give an honest effort, if only so your Pack Alpha couldn't complain. Today you'd thought you'd maybe found a match with another Beta but his pack mates wouldn't stop making fun of your extra pounds so you opted to back away. If you did get together you'd have to go to his pack and you didn't want to think about spending your life around cruel people.

So you found yourself walking to the perimeter. You weren't trying to leave, you just needed to get away from people. If only for a little bit.

That's how you came across Alpha Barnes, or how he came across you. If the rumors were true there's no way you'd ever be able to catch him off guard.

"Apologies, Alpha Barnes," you sigh. "I just needed a break. I'll head back if you want me to."

His eyes never left you. His face never changed that you could see. He often still wore a mask because the experiments had made his sense of smell even more sensitive than a normal Alpha's.

He tilted his head to the side, "you are not afraid of me." It wasn't a question but you could tell he was curious.

"As far as I know, I have no reason to be" you cautiously replied. "I'm still within the perimeter and making no move to go further. I am not a threat to you or yours. You're not a mindless killing machine like the rumors try to say. So, no, I'm not afraid of you, Sir."

You think you catch a glint of something in his eyes but you're distracted by someone approaching. Male. Omega.

++++++++++

I might do more with this later but thank you for helping me figure out how to actually get to writing it! Hope you enjoyed!

[fandomnsfw]

New Rules - Scott McCall x Reader

Pairing: Scott x Reader

Prompt: New Rules by Dua Lipa. Also requested by @sjsjsksskks

Warning: None just fluff and angst (I think)

Thank you to my amazing Beta for listening to my rants this morning about my personal life thanks to getting that off my chest I was able to come up with this! Thanks @lets-imagine-fanfics

ENJOY!!

****

You walked into the kitchen where half the pack was inhaling coffee. It was late at night so most of the pack was asleep but those who had work tonight or school work were still awake.  

Lydia was eating a fruit salad whilst reading a text book of some sorts. Stiles was inhaling his coffee, complaining about work as Derek stroked the back of his neck affectionately whilst sipping his own coffee. Scott was cooking something on the stove with no shirt and a pair of skinny black sweatpants.  

You sat down next to Lydia smacking your head off the breakfast bar counter. The loud thud caused Stiles and the rest of them to look at you with wide eyes. You sat up just as your phone started ringing. You groaned and looked at the phone with narrowed eyes.  

“Don’t pick up.” Lydia huffed without even looking at the phone. She knew who it was without looking and that caused you to roll your eyes. You left the phone to ring but after it stopped it quickly started back up.  

“Y/N you know it’s a bad idea right?” Derek muttered carefully. You stared at them but when the phone started ringing for the third time you gave in and picked it up.  

‘Hey babe.’ He slurred down the phone letting you know he was drunk.  

“What do you want David?” You sighed tiredly.  

‘I miss you.’ He whispered softly. His voice sent your heart rocketing, no matter how many times you made this mistake you never learnt.  

Before you could reply the phone was yanked out your hand. Lydia stood there with your phone in her hand. She quickly hung up on him with a scowl on her face. You let out a growl but inside you were momentarily thankful.  

“One, don't pick up the phone. You know he's only calling 'cause he's drunk and alone.” Stiles sang as he danced about the kitchen, his coffee finally kicking in.

“Two, don't let him in. You have to kick him out again.” He continued with a laugh.

“Three, don't be his friend. You know you're gonna wake up in his bed in the morning.” He whispered like it was the biggest secret.

“And if you're under him. You ain't getting over him.” He giggled as Derek rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’s antics. Once he sat down on Derek’s lap Lydia spoke up.  

“As much as Stiles is an idiot and his way of saying it is moronic, he’s right. You need to stop Y/N, it’s going to kill you.” She sighed softly as she placed your phone on the kitchen side.  

You gave her a sad nod before sitting down. You laid your head on the counter as you thought back to your relationship with David. He was your first love, the boy you gave you virginity to. He was a coyote like Malia except he was raised by humans. He’d lived in beacon hills most of his life but coyote weren’t pack animals so even when Scott had offered to be his Alpha he declined.  

He still hung out with the pack occasionally but you and he had grown close in that time. You eventually started dating but you knew he didn’t love you. For him it was just sex. After you guys broke up he called you when he was drunk, telling you he missed you but after sleeping with him he left like it never happened. It’s been five months since you broke up but every now and then he calls and for some reason you always crawl back. You couldn’t understand it yourself, but either way you did.  

Ten minutes later there was a knock at the door. You shot out your seat when you caught David scent. You tried to run to the door but Scott beat you to it. He opened the door flashing his red eyes before catching you by the waist effectively keeping you away from your ex-boyfriend.  

“You’re not welcome here.” Scott growled as you struggled against his hold.  

“I just wanna talk to ‘er.” He slurred sadly.  

“No.” You let out a whimper at his sad tone.  

“Y/N listen to me. Forget his tone and forget his face look at me.” Scott mutter softly in your ear. You huffed but played along anyway. You glanced up at your Alpha with a frown.  

“Chemo signals.” He muttered causing your eyes to widen as you zoned in on the chemo signals around you. You found Scott’s first his was concern and something you couldn’t quite pin point. Then you zoned in on David and your eyes widened in hurt. The only chemo signal coming from David was arousal. No hurt. No longing. Just pure lust.

You’re eyes welled with tears as you stared into Scott’s dusky brown ones. He strocked your cheek sweetly before pulling your head into his chest. Stiles came out the kitchen with a glare firmly on his face. Before anyone could figure out what was happening Stiles punched David across the face.  

“Leave. If you come back I’ll take my bat to your pretty little face!” Stiles growled angrily as his boyfriend ran out the kitchen to grab him.  

David let out a laugh before leaving calmly like he hadn’t just ripped open a wound that was already bleeding. Scott held you as you shook against his chest, but as soon as you were sure he was gone you burst into tears, collapsing to the floor with Scott who was making soothing sounds that frankly you barely registered.  

You weren’t sure how long you cried but by then end of it, your eyes were sore and you felt beyond tired. Stiles and Derek had left for work and Lydia had gone to bed. You finally looked up at Scott who was holding you like you were the most precious gem. He shot you a sad smile before reaching out and stroking your cheek once again.  

“You ready for bed?” Scott asked gently. You gave him a nod but as you tried to stand your legs gave out from under you. Thankfully Scott caught you before lifting you up bridal style.

He carried you to your bedroom before placing you in your bed. He brush your hair out your face before pulling the covers over you. You gave him a smile that probably looked more like a grimace but either way he returned it. And you were vaguely aware he bid you good night as you felt into a deep sleep.  

****

You weren’t sure what time it was when someone shook you awake but you were aware you had tears sliding down your face and a sheet of sweat glistening across your entire body. You shot up with a sob you hadn’t even realised you’d let out, before glancing at the person who woke you up.  

“Hey it’s okay. I’m here.” Scott muttered softly as he pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you tightly. You buried yourself into his chest silently and the tears involuntarily kept falling.  

He rocked you back and forth until you finally pulled away your face covered with dry tears. He wiped mostly of them away before waiting patiently for you to speak. When you finally found your voice it was scratch and felt so raw you almost winced.

“I don’t even remember having a dream..” You muttered sadly.  

“You were crying so loudly. Stiles tried to wake you but when he couldn’t he came to get me. I’m just glad I left you door open a little otherwise we wouldn’t have heard you. The soundproofing in this house is no joke.” Scott chuckled sadly.  

You glanced at his chest quickly realising her was in nothing but a pair of dark red boxer briefs. You coughed awkwardly before he looked down and realised what you’d looked at. He flushed before scratching the back of his neck.  

“How about I go put on some sweats then I can stay in here with you?” Scott asked softly his embarrassment fading quickly.  

“I thought you hated sleep in clothes?” You chuckled in amusement.  

“Well usually but I have a little more respect for you than to sleep in your bed in just boxers.” Scott smiled softly as you took in his words. They made your stomach flutter softly but you quickly dismissed it before looking at him.  

“I don’t mind. It’s not like you’re naked.” You giggled softly before crawling into bed. He followed quickly getting in behind you so your back was against his chest. You sighed happily before closing your eyes and letting the much need sleep take you.  

****

When you woke up against you felt someone restricting your movement and then when you tried to move something very large poked your ass. You thought maybe you left your sports bottle on the bed again but your eyes shot open as you remembered last night. Scott’s ridiculously large morning wood was pressing against your ass.

“Mornin’ how’d ya sleep.” He muttered sleepily as he started coming to.

“Yeah great…Scott I hate to embarrass you buuut your monster dick is poking me in the ass.” You deadpanned. He started flapping about until he finally fell off the bed. You burst out laughing as you looked over the side of the bed in amusement.  

“M-Monster dick?” Scott stuttered his face bright red.  

“Yep I thought I’d left my sports bottle on my bed again.” You giggled softly as he tried to cover up his problem with a pillow.  

“O-Oh I’m so sorry…” You muttered the scent of shame taking over the room. You quickly hopped off the bed and bent down next to him.

“Scott I know it’s not because of arousal it’s fine. I want to be a doctor remember? I know it’s because of the need to pee. Not all the time but most of the time.” You shot him a smile before stroking his cheek gently.  

“How about you go sort it out while I make us some breakfast and coffee.” You muttered sweetly as he nuzzled into your hand happily. He gave you a nod before running off to your on suite bathroom.  

By the time breakfast was done Scott strolled down stairs in some tight jeans and a burgundy Henley. It wasn’t a tight Henley like Derek’s is was slightly baggy but recently Scott had been working out more with Derek so he was slowly filling out the top.  

“What time do you have work?” You asked as you both sat down at the breakfast bar. Just then Stiles walked into the kitchen with a tired gaze before stealing a piece of bacon off Scott’s plate.

“I have work at 8am so in about thirty minutes.” Scott mumbled softly as he smacked Stiles hand away as the other boy tried to grab another piece of bacon.  

“You have a day off today right?” He added with a mouthful of food, as he scoffed down his breakfast.  

“Yeah no lecture today either so I’m gonna be lazy all day.” You giggled as you sipped you coffee.  

You picked up a piece of bacon on your fork before holding it to Scott’s lips. He gave you a lopsided grin as you wrapped his mouth around the fork happily. You returned his smile before eating some more of your eggs.  

“Okay well if you need me text me. I gotta go.” He stood up and cleared away his plates before walking back to you with a smile. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your temple before muttering goodbye.  

You stared at Stiles with wide eyes as Scott left the house. Stiles stared back mirroring your expression. You flailed your arms around in an attempt to communicate something that only Stiles would most likely understand. He gave you a shrug before stealing Scott’s abandoned coffee.

You weren’t entirely sure what happened but you couldn’t exactly say you were unhappy about this little development if anything it made you heart fluttered excitedly.  

Just then Derek walked in and Stiles looked up from the coffee, a smile broke across his face as you sniffed the air to get a feel of their chemo signals. You smelt the same thing you’d smelt on Scott last night so you glanced at Derek putting out your hand to stop him approaching Stiles.

“What’s that emotion raidiating off Stiles right now?” You asked Derek cautiously. Derek sniffed the air as Stiles made grabby hands at Derek ignoring my words.

“Oh that’s attraction.” Derek muttered as he opened his arms for his boyfriend, who happily ran into them.  

“So like a toned down version of lust?” You asked in confusion because you were sure this smelt nothing like lust.  

“No…Hmm how do I word this…It’s the pheromone that gets released when you’re in love with someone. It smells kinda sweet right?” He asked as he hugged his lover tightly.  

“Yeah. WAIT...LOVE!?”  You squeaked loudly as Derek flinched and started at your with furrowed brows.  

“Yes. Love. Why where have you smelt it?” Derek asked with a laugh.

“S-Scott smelt like that last night w-when he was looking into my eyes…” You muttered shyly.  

“Oh cool.” Stiles stated before pulling away from his boyfriend.  

“COOL!? THIS IS A BIG DEAL STILES!” You screamed loudly.  

“Not re-Wait…You really didn’t know he was in love with you this whole time?” Stiles asked in shock.  

“You guys knew!?” You yelled angrily, slamming your coffee down on the table in frustration.  

“It’s not hard to see. You were just too blinded by David fucking asshole Smith! I mean come on! SMITH! What kind last name is that!?” Stiles groaned dramatically. You shook your head before storming to your room to think about this new revelation.  

*****

When Scott had gotten home that night, you’d locked your bedroom door. You hadn’t known how to face him. The reality of the situation had been too heavy for you to bear at that moment. You had still been so screwed up about David you honestly couldn’t have even thought about a relationship with Scott. Even if your heart had fluttered around him a number of times.

However now you somehow find yourself brimming with anxiety and seething with jealousy. Malia and Scott had gotten closer over the past few weeks since you had kept your distance but right now they were currently giggling and flirting away with one another.  

You suddenly felt a wetness on your hand which made you frown and snap out of your jealousy. You looked down at you hand and noticed it was covered in blood. Your frown deepened as you tried to assess what happened. That’s when you notice your phone was practically bent in half on the floor covered in blood.  

You looked up to see Stiles staring at you with wide eyes and suddenly Scott sniffed the air his eyes shooting to yours. You hid you hand before he could see it but that apparently did nothing because he was on your in seconds.  

“Why are you bleeding?!” Scott asked with a panicked tone.  

“It’s nothing go back to your flirtatious conversation!” You snapped before picking up your phone and storming out the living area.

You were about to close the bedroom door but before you could Scott burst in after you, slamming it loudly in apparent anger. He paced your room a few times before looking up at you with anger on his face.

“What the hell was that about!?” He growled angrily, his eyes flashing red.  

“What are you so angry about!?” You snapped.

“Malia is down there thinking she was stepping on people’s toes by expressing her interest in me!” Scott screamed angrily as he took a step forward.  

“YEAH WELL MAYBE SHE WAS!” You yelled back with an equal amount of viciousness.

“YOU HAVE BARELY SAID TWO WORDS SINCE THAT NIGHT AND NOW YOU SUDDENLY GET TO ACT JEALOUS!? I DON’T THINK SO!” He screeched.  

“I FOUND OUT YOU WERE IN LOVE WITH ME! I HAD JUST BEEN THROUGH MY FIRST HEART BREAK! HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO ACT! W-When all of a s-sudden you entered my head and started making my heart flutter…I-I was scared.” You trailed off as you tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

“Is that what these past few weeks of avoidance has been?” Scott asked his tone raw with pain.  

You gave him a nod before glancing up to see his face contort in pain. You let out a whimper as you took in his expression. You hated seeing this man hurt. Especially when it was because of you.

“Bu-But over the past few weeks as you a Malia got c-closer I realised…I-I want to be…” You stopped as you felt your tears start falling.  

Suddenly Scott was inches from your face, his hands cupping your cheek like you were the most valuable breakable artefact in the world. His eyes were boring into yours, his expression one of hurt, concern and love.  

“Please don’t cry…When I see you cry it kills me.” Scott whispered brokenly.  

“I’m s-so sor-sorry I never w-wanted to hurt you.” You cried as you clutched onto his dark blue hoodie.  

“I…I know…I know. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m sorry I confused you and if you would let me…I’d love to kiss you right now?” He muttered softly as he looked into your eyes questioningly.

“Please.” You replied breathlessly as your lips parted slightly.  

He caught your lips in a soft yet passionate open mouth kissed. It was sweet and portrayed everything you’d both felt the past few weeks. He twisted his head the opposite way as you did you same. Never deepening the kiss but you honestly didn’t care because this moment was the most picture perfect moment you had in your life and you were sure nothing could ever compare.

After a few more seconds he pulled away a little breathless. You stared into his eyes only to see the brightest loving look staring back. You stood on your tip toes as you leant up, throwing your arms around his neck, burying your head in his neck.  

“I think I’m totally head over heels in love with you.” You giggled softly into his neck as happy tears dropped onto his shirt.

“If it makes you feel better…I’m totally head over heels for you too.” Scott chuckled happily as he hugged you back.

The only rule you knew you’d need in your life now was; Never let this beautiful man go.

[formlessvoidbeast]

newbie fic authors, shooting themselves in the foot: This fic is bad haha I suck at writing lol I am being mean to myself in the hopes that you will be nice to me but actually am dissuading anyone from even clicking on my fic because all I have done to advertise it is tell you why you shouldn't read it

me: I am King Big Dick of Fanfic Mountain and I have arrived in your fandom with the Express Intention of writing my Very Favorite Fics, which I will generously allow you to read. You're welcome.

[tanjir0se]

Disclaimer these are just a small sampling of some possible writer traits I’ve noticed either in myself or in fics I read. Also consider a rb for sample size !

[tame-the-lion-writes]

“… Sweetheart, when was the last time you went into heat?”

“I mean, I’ve— I’ve always been on suppressants, so—“

“That’s not a date, love.”

You swallow hard, looking at the cement floor of the makeshift safe house. You were supposed to be home by now, to have access to all your meds—but no. You were here. Out in enemy territory, holed up with the rest of your team.

Your otherwise all alpha team.

“Never.”

Well. Shit.

[thedovesaredying]

Imagine Alpha!Simon, much like all unmated alphas in the military, receives a scent package to help during his rut. It's a simple blanket that has been thoroughly scented by an omega and while normally it doesn't really work for him, this newest blanket smells simply divine. He's salivating and panting the moment the sealed plastic bag is opened and the scent is released, but rather than calming his frazzled alpha, it only makes him desperate to track down the omega it belongs to.

It's almost laughably easy to find out which centre the blanket was distributed from, and from there he only needs to stake out the area for a few days until you to make an appearance. What should have been a simple, anonymous job to earn a bit of cash on the side is turned completely on its head the moment you try to leave.

Simon's here to claim what belongs to him, and he isn't the kind of alpha who likes to share with the rest of the world.

[specialgradefckr]

Heatwave: Day 7

tw: explicit content, mentions of past abuse. 6k+ words. Toji/Reader. beta!reader, alpha!toji. hurt/comfort, whump, fluff, toji is kinda pathetic. top!toji, size kink, surprisingly soft sex, extremely domestic.

Prompt: Not everyone has secondary genders, but those who do are considered less than human.

You find him on the streets. A lonely stray, beaten and bruised.

Hair all mussed up, face dirtied, a scar on his lip too poorly healed to be anything but a punishment.

He’s on the floor, propped against the wall in some filthy, dingy alleyway. Covered in dirt, himself.

Eyes half-closed and slowly flitting over his surroundings, like he’s tired but expecting to get hit the instant he tries to sleep.

It’s not uncommon for parents to throw out an alpha or omega teenager as soon as they turn eighteen, if they even waited that long.

Many hospitals didn’t do secondary gender confirmation for minors because the parents would just… leave. Most orphanages were filled primarily with newly-presented alpha and omega teenagers.

And those were the lucky ones. Unlucky alphas and omegas got into worse places. Much worse places. A lot of them stayed around even after adulthood, because what other way was there to work for a living?

Even if they tried to pretend to be a beta, their heat or rut would give them away. Betas didn’t need to go on leave for a week every month or so. Health insurance didn’t cover suppressants if you were registered as a beta, and only betas could get jobs that provided health insurance.

And betas didn’t have the innate urge to mate like omegas or alphas did. Didn’t have the same sense of possession, loyalty, the addiction to their partner’s scent and pheromones that made abandonment impossible.

What they did have was money. All the money, power, and prestige in the world was in the hands of betas.

And if you were an alpha or omega, the best you could do was use your secondary sex to provide the rest of society with entertainment, and maybe get a meal somehow along the way. If you were young and pretty, you might get to live a decent life as some rich beta’s pet.

The stray in the alleyway is a lot older than eighteen. He looks like he’s been eaten alive. Chewed up and spat out once he lost his flavor.

You step up to him and he doesn’t even react to the noise. He’s just sitting there, against the wall, eyes half-lidded and glazed over like he’s waiting to die but still can’t quite sit back and accept it just yet.

That’s the worst part about it all, probably. Because when he was born, he would have looked like a beta, like any other ordinary kid.

Probably to parents who were happy to have him. He might have even had a good life, a happy childhood, a life full of love with a real future in front of him. Until he presented.

He’s a stray, not a wild animal. He had a home, once. Knew what it was like to have a warm bed and a full belly every night. A place to come back to. People who loved him.

A life. A real life, with dreams and aspiration like any normal person – all yanked out from under him in an instant.

An alpha, it looks like. You bend down, sitting on your heels in front of him, waiting for him to notice you. His eyes are narrow, and it’s hard to tell the color –

And then he looks up at you, and you see it. Dark and muddled but the color’s still there. Emerald glittering at you, pick me up, a treasure obscured so only you can see it.

When you reach your hand out, it’s gently, as if not to startle. He just eyes you, wryly, as if he’s too exhausted to be curious about what you’ll do.

You smile. “Hey, stranger.”

Eyes close. Not a threat. “Mmm.”

“Need a hand?”

“If you’re offerin…” He lets his head fall to the side. Not worth the effort to watch you. Some beta lady with a soft heart.

You don’t smell like anything much, not to his burned-out nose, but he can feel your warmth when you lean in closer.

“You got a name?”

Once upon a time, he did. A big name, real important-like, one you might even recognize. Now? Now he’s got nothing.

“Toji,” He gives you, before letting out a hiss as you pull on his bruised hand.

“Sorry,” You murmur, “Let me help you up. Here, like this…”

An arm wraps around his shoulders, tugs him up. It’s impressive that you try at all – Toji heaves his tired, agonized muscles into holding himself up, stumbling along with your support.

You’re doing a pretty good job as a crutch, but there’s no way you can stand his weight for long.

That’s fine. You don’t need to. All he needs is a few days off the streets.

Looks like his luck hasn’t run out completely. Not yet.

-

When you help him in through the doorway, closing it behind you, he slips his shoes off and sets them beside the door, right where yours are.

A stray, not a wild animal. He’s been in homes before, maybe even recently. Just not one he could call his own.

It hurts to think. Almost hurts to look at him, but there’s something achingly handsome about his face.

That half-sly, half-defeated look he’s always got. Those lowered brows and hooded eyes, the cut on his lip that should be mean but just looks scrappy.

He’s an alpha and he’s built like it, but there’s still an unmistakable proudness to his features. A well-defined jawline, strong chin, eyes sharp and fierce.

You’re a little embarrassed at the state of your home. Even in the best of times, you hated doing dishes, and you hadn’t exactly been expecting company. Still, it’s nothing to be terribly ashamed of, even if you apologize for the mess. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“You want to go to a clinic?” You’ve got some pills in hand – some over-the-counter generics, he’s sure – and a glass of water to go with it. “I can take you, don’t worry about the bill.”

Aren’t you just a doll? “Nah. I’ll be fine. Had worse.”

He can see it, too, transparently, how his words pull at your heartstrings. If he plays this right maybe he can get a whole week. Maybe two.

Toji’s always been the gambling sort. You look like a good bet.

“Well…” You think to yourself for a moment, “I think I have a shirt that would fit you, but not much else. I have a bathrobe, too, if you want to take a shower.”

A shower would be perfect, especially if he was going to fuck his way into your good graces. Beta ladies love alpha cock.

“Mhm.” He hums, following you to the hallway and waiting patiently for you to gesture him into the bathroom.

You hand him a robe – probably large enough for him, but extremely fluffy – and a shirt that would probably be a little small on him, but far too large to be a woman’s.

“I, uh, I don’t have separate stuff for guests – feel free to use my shampoo, conditioner, body wash, whatever, I buy it in bulk anyways.” How nice of you to offer.

He was going to anyways, of course. As sexy as the whole wounded filthy beast thing was, women didn’t like letting a dirty guy sleep in their bed.

Even if you were annoyed by it, it’d be a while before that pissed you enough to kick him to the curb. When you did, that wouldn’t be what did it.

A quick once-over confirms he’s pretty bruised and beaten up, but no broken bones. A few cuts here and there that have already stopped bleeding. Every muscle in his body is screaming for him to lie down, hard enough that he almost passes out in the shower, but other than that, he’s all right.

There’s bandaids beneath the sink. It’s more than he usually gets.

When he comes out, clad in the robe and nothing else, he’s kind of ready to collapse.

But what kind of man whore would he be if he didn’t at least give you a glance at the goods? He saunters into your living room, sliding into a plush chair beside the couch you’re currently on.

Your eyes widen gratifyingly at the sight of him, glancing away for a moment in an attempt to stay casual. It’s a little cute, but hopefully you’re not some kind of prude; that’d make things significantly harder.

“Did you find everything okay?” You say, and he notices for the first time a cat curled up next to you as you stroke it gently. It’s bright white and long-haired.

He nods. You notice his gaze, and smile.

“This is Catoru! He’s a huge diva and he loves attention.” A white tail curls around your arm as you pet, swaying gently.

Great. Competition. “Any roommates?” He asks.

To his relief, you shake your head. “I have a guest bedroom, though, you’re free to stay there for as long as you need.”

As long as you need. He’s heard that one before.

It’s all right, though. You’re just a naïve, sheltered beta; you’ve probably never even met someone who would take advantage of your kindness to the absolute fullest extent.

Toji supposes he should be honored to pop your cherry. Right now, he’s not anything but exhausted.

You set a cup of tea in front of him, “You want a snack? I have some protein bars – ”

Sounds perfect, “If you don’t mind.”

He scarfs down everything you offer him, sighing in relief when you bring him a couple more. Sips at the tea, requests a cup of water, drowns several of them before he’s really dead on his feet.

Ah. Clean. Some food in him, some water. This is what heaven must be like.

“My room is just across the hall,” You smile, “I leave my door cracked so Catoru doesn’t freak out. Just let me know if you need anything.”

And Toji feels your smile, all the way deep into his tired bones. Can’t wait to gnaw on it, suck at it, devour every last bit of it until there’s nothing left. He’s always had shit luck but it looks like it hasn’t abandoned him just yet.

He thanks you. The cat at your side winks open an eye to look at him, bright blue and startling against his white fur.

-

He’s left the door open a crack, just in case you’re bolder than you appear.

One of the particularly shit things about being an alpha or an omega is the pack behavior crap. They weren’t meant to be alone, especially while they slept. Made them nervous.

Some kind of pack-bonding stuff. It was hard to sleep without someone next to him. Made him antsy, twitchy, whenever he did sleep he woke up after an hour or so.

Meant a lot of sleepless, painful nights at the Zenin complex. He’d taking to sprinting around the complex, push ups, squats, whatever he could do to exhaust himself so much that he could just lie down and pass out until one of his cousins kicked him awake.

It usually bought him only a few hours, but combined with his alpha genes it meant he grew up built; lean and mean and strong enough to take hits that would kill lesser men.

Lucky him. After they kicked him out he was approached by some tall, scrawny looking omega called Shiu who had a job or two for a strong man with nothing to lose. Money he could blow on food or gambling while he went from one hookup to the next.

He hadn’t heard from Shiu since the last job. Not surprising, since it went worse than expected. In retrospect, if you hadn’t found him in that alley, someone elsewould have.

The thought doesn’t bother him much. Had to end sometime. Every dog has his day, and for a mangy mutt like him, he’d already gotten way more than he deserved. Even life on the streets was better than living with the fucks he shared blood ties with.

Still, as long as he’s in the game, he’s pushing his luck. If he can get you to fuck him, you’ll let him stick around longer, and he’ll get a full night of sleep.

There’s a noise at the door and his excitement rises a touch. He didn’t think you’d be willing to do it this early –

A gentle weight on the bed. Too gentle.

For fuck’s sake!

“Hey, Catoru,” He grumbles, “You’re lucky I even remember a guy’s name. Don’t make a habit of it.”

Catoru, of course, simply curls up next to him, obnoxiously close. His fur is impossibly soft. He should have been named Cloud or Snow or something.

Toji reaches, stroking the bundle of warmth and softness with short, lazy movements. His hands are rough, calloused, but it doesn’t seem to bother the cat any. He just snuggles up and purrs. It soothes his instincts to a degree he finds utterly uncomfortable.

God, fuck, he hadn’t been competition for the cat. The cat was taking pity on him.

Normally he wasn’t so picky about where the pity came from. He was way more popular with the ladies but there was a guy here and there who wanted to try him out.

Those were usually much shorter affairs, though. Women were way better. Took a certain kind of guy to want to fuck an alpha male. A lot of them got off on making him their ‘bitch’, fucking him hard and rough because he had to take it for a place to sleep.

He had enough of that shit at the Zenin complex. This is worlds better.

It’s too good for trash like him, but he’ll take it as long as it lasts.

He wakes up a few times in the middle of the night, but that’s normal enough. The cat’s insufferable, but he’s warm, and soft, and cuddly, which he’s never seen before.

It helps, until the traitor wanders off into your room, probably to snuggle until he decides to wake you up for food.

Bastard. Toji watches him stalk into your room like he owns this whole damn place. Probably jumping right into your arms.

He wonders where the shirt is from. An ex-lover? A male relative? It doesn’t smell like anyone else, but it would probably have belonged to a beta.

You’re living alone, though, which is enough for him. He’s gotten plenty of beta ladies to sleep with him despite having other lovers currently, that’s not a problem.

It’s not like he has to worry about your lover showing up and beating the shit out of him (or you) either – little perks of being an alpha. As long as you paid the bills and wanted him around, that was enough.

There’s a little part of him that always takes an intense pleasure at the thought. Protecting his mate and all that garbage.

Doesn’t matter. He’s just hanging on for now.

-

You’re not sure what food your guest would like, but it’s a good excuse to cook a big breakfast for him and you.

Lord knows, the poor man had an appetite, so you doubt even your mediocre cooking would go to waste. It’s a little embarrassing to have dishes still in the sink, but you’ll do them all at once after you’ve eaten. For sure this time.

Besides, not a lot of ways you could screw up eggs, French toast, bacon, all that stuff. It’s a few minutes of shuffling through things, putting down pans and containers, before you’re ready to get cooking.

You open the fridge, and it hits you. Eugh. Something’s gone off.

Living alone, it happens sometimes. You buy something then forget to eat it before it goes bad. But your fridge is pretty full already…

You look through the shelves, the cases, trying to find what’s gone bad. It’s weird, it’s like the rotten smell just hits you at random times, you can’t seem to find where it’s coming from.

There’s a sudden warmth behind you, like a wall of muscle, as Toji leans over your shoulder, lazily scanning the fridge. He takes one sniff, then reaches deep past a couple jars of condiments and a stick of butter to pull out some cheese.

It’s a soft Havarti, sliced, and you can see the green creeping through it. Bleh.

Toji rolls his eyes as he opens the package up, “It’s cheese, you can eat around it – ”

Oh hell no. You snatch it back and toss it in the trash. The way he’s eyeing it fills you with incredulity.

“It’s not like – it’s not parmesan or whatever fancy cheese that gets mold on it. We can just get more next time.”

“Mmmhmm.” He nods.

He wouldn’t dig through your trash, right? Right??

“Seriously, thank you for picking it out. I was looking for whatever smelled so off.”

Toji was absolutely planning on digging through your trash. Hell if he’d let good food go to waste, but your house, your rules.

“Really? What are you, nose blind?” Beta, he remembers. Not a great sense of smell.

Toji’s always had a great nose. His shitty uncles would hide rotting food around the backyard, and if he was lucky, he could get to it before it was all eaten by bugs or animals.

His cousins would play with him sometimes. Bloodhound. He can still feel the makeshift collar and leash of rope wrapped around his neck. Promises of extra food or clothes if he hunted down a misplaced possession of theirs.

What a chump he was. Took him years to stop falling for it. Ancient history. He watches you shrug.

“Guess so.” Your hand comes up to him, and he doesn’t flinch, but the strike never lands.

Instead, he feels fingers, ruffling through his hair. Softer than usual, since you made him use your fancy shower crap. You have to reach up to get to his head, and you look silly, all stretched like that, but it feels like something in his chest is stretching alongside you.

“I appreciate it.” He almost whines when your hand goes away. “Thanks, Toji.”

That shitty name doesn’t sound so bad coming from your voice. “Anytime.” The words come out softer than he expected them to.

Toji watches for about five minutes while you get ready before he quietly stalks up to the stove and starts the heat on one of the pans. God, he loved some good bacon.

Was a good day when he could snatch some from the family breakfast, even if he got beat for it. Most of the women he stayed with weren’t really the cooking type.

You don’t seem that domestic, either, but with all the food in your fridge it’s obvious you’re trying. You give him a look while you whisk together some eggs, sugar – French toast, he thinks.

“I can get the bacon,” He mutters, waiting for the pan to heat up so he can start laying strips down. “You take the other side.”

“Oh. Oh, sure!” You brighten, smiling at him – what, you’re feeding him for free, but you’re happy he’s helping?

You’re a good person, he supposes. Really good, down to the core, in a way none of those Zenin fucks ever were.

The normal, upstanding sort who went to their jobs and lived their lives without ever knowing what omega brothels were or how alphas were treated as expendable muscle.

You live in a completely different world, one that has barely, briefly intersected his. But he’ll greedily gulp down every breath of fresh air he can get here, even if that means ruining it. Not like he’s ever done anything else.

-

It’s funny, living with you. The funniest part is that it doesn’t seem to stop. It takes him some time to realize that you really meant what you said – as long as you need.

What a chump. A bleeding heart. He’s chomping at the bit to eat it all up.

He learns that you’re a teacher – a professor – at a nearby community college. The pay can’t be that good but the hours are easy, and you don’t need a car – you’re living in some nearby campus-sponsored housing as a part of your employment package. There’s grocery stores close enough to walk to, and a bus for when you need it.

You teach math, or some other nerdy shit. It’s hard not to zone out when you start explaining in depth, especially since you get that excited look in your eyes, and your voice just flows out of you like you’re on a roll.

Before you leave for classes you make yourself a coffee, and you make him one, too. It’s funny, having someone hand him a warm drink without him paying for it first. Funny, seeing you smile and say good morning at the start of the day.

Usually he tried to slink around, stay out of sight unless he knew he could turn things into sex, but you’re not expecting that so he just… lingers.

He used to peek through cracked doors or barely high enough windows to watch TV. Darting out of the way whenever someone glanced outside.

They locked him out, sometimes, like an unruly dog. Can’t have some ugly alpha mutt dirtying their doorways, pissing on the carpet or some shit.

Now, you hand him the remote and show him the channels before you leave.

He watches whatever, until you come home and he bears through your dumb TV shows (Sorcerers? Cursed spirits? Who watches this shit?) and nags you afterwards about your favorite characters, jokes and laughs about them and the plot.

So he catches up when you’re at work, too, just so he can tell you how dumb this Satoru dude is.

God, the guy’s hair is so stupid. And he’s got next to no fashion sense, Toji can already tell (never mind that he is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a stylish man). What a damn tool. Why the hell do you like this stupid beanpole so much?

He tries not to think about why your preferences bother him so much. No use thinking about stuff he can’t change.

The kids are fun, though. Megumi’s smart, even if he’s a bit rough around the edges, Yuji’s too nice for his own good, Nobara is a riot. The Sukuna guy looks like he’s gonna be a blast.

Maybe the show isn't completely irredeemable. You don’t seem to mind his slander of one of your favorite characters, giggling, teasing him, arguing playfully.

It’s fun. It’s fun, and weird, the kind of conversation he’s never had before. Mostly he flirts with women – he does with you, but you brush it off or it flies right over your head – and half-threatens guys. Or he rolls over like a dog to get what he wants.

Doesn’t get to tease people much unless he’s planning on killing them, so it’s a nice change of pace.

He hasn’t gotten his ass handed to him since before you took him in, too. Gets to eat three times a day, or more, even, when you remember to get snacks. He doesn’t ask you but when you see them start to go missing, you start to buy more, ask him what kind he likes best, and it makes him feel funny things.

Lots of things you do make him feel funny. The dumb smiles, for one. The warm meals and carefully made drinks, tea or coffee with cream but no sugar, even though you like yours half-diabetic.

You hate doing dishes, he learns, and quietly he starts picking it up himself. And there’s that smile you make, when you come back home, that look of delighted surprise on your face when the kitchen’s all clean. It’s painfully gratifying.

Same with the litter box for the stupid beast. You’re supposed to change it every day, but you sort of scrape by every other day – with his sensitive nose, he finds it easier to just scoop it every day.

He’s not even trying to help you. Barely sees why you don’t like to do it – Toji’s never minded getting his hands dirty.

He’s been filth his whole life. What’s a little more? This was pristine, compared to sleeping out in the dirt. Compared to getting pissed on, having knives or garbage thrown at him, bruised and bloodied face rubbed in the floor while somebody held him down.

It goes on for so long he wonders if he’s going to lose his edge, starts doing laps around your apartment block. One day you casually hand him a card and ask him to come with you – you’ve gotten a household membership at a local gym.

You don’t visit as often as you should (your words, not his). But you must have noticed him, seen him.

He goes during the day, having nothing better to do, and knowing it’s best to stay in shape for whatever work he may be able to scrounge up someday. He goes to the gym and it’s as weird as living with you.

Punching things, lifting things, stretching and running without his muscles screaming in agony from start to finish, without adrenaline fueling his every motion.

He goes until he’s tired and other folks at the gym give him looks, but they don’t want to fuck him or beat him up. A couple guys glance at him and whoop when he does a deadlift, and he’s really not sure why.

But it’s fun. It’s worth his time. It feels fucking amazing after – he’s all tired out but in a good way, a nice soreness that goes down to his bones and makes him look forward to the hot meal waiting for him at home.

He’s started to cook some, too. Wordlessly helping out alongside you, and then silently prepping things while you’re out.

You hate doing dishes anyways, and it feels good to see how grateful you are to come home to food and a clean home. He doesn’t mind doing it. Doesn’t mind doing any of it, when you look at him like that.

There’s a bit of cleaning to do usually, thanks to some white furry bastard leaving his hair everywhere.

The fuckin cat. What’s with that stupid thing?

He’s never had a pet before, obviously, even scrapped with a few mutts on the streets sometimes digging through the trash.

Once or twice he’d fucked someone who had a pet, and usually it growled at him, if it didn’t cower or ignore him completely. Just alpha shit.

Catoru (god, was he named after that guy in the show?) has a fucking crush on him or some shit. Fucking weirdo.

He walks up to him, rubbing against his leg, purring and meowing to be pet. Likes to be held, too, chirps happily when Toji lifts him up. Lounging in his arms like a little prince-beast he is. Making a home of Toji’s lap whenever he’s on the couch, meowing indignantly whenever he so much a shifts.

The cat meows constantly when you’re gone and Toji wondered at first if you forgot to feed the damn nuisance. But no, you’d never do that to your BABY. Stupid cat.

(God damn. He’s jealous of the fucking cat.)

Nah, the thing is meowing for attention. Wants it bad. Wants his soft pretty fur to get pet, and doesn’t care if it’s some dirty alpha whore doing it.

Eh. Takes one to know one. You did say Catoru was an attention whore.

If he’s got a few treats on hand, if he indulges the stupid animal just to keep it from whining… well, whatever.

-

And then his rut is coming up. Not surprising, since he’s healthy again and fucking lives with you, all domestic-like and shit, like you’re his mate. If anything, he’s surprised it took this long.

Normally when he feels his rut coming up he just finds the first broad he can. He’s got a handsome enough face, a more than impressive form, all he needs is a warm and willing partner.

He doesn’t usually have a problem finding an adventurous beta lady all excited to take a big alpha cock – it’s what comes after that get dicey.

You can’t knot betas, even in the midst of his rut he’s not dumb enough to try it. But his dick is big and he’s been with enough women to know that’s not actually a good thing, at least, not the night after all the “fun”. And ruts last a few days.

His dick’s been bothering him for a while, too, even before his rut. You’re just so fucking hot all the time, so nice to him, so smiley and friendly and you laugh and make jokes with him and shit.

It’s just so easy. He thinks he should feel bad about it, about using you like this, but you’re so utterly unbothered he starts to wonder who’s really winning.

You’re so fucking smart, you and your classes and your routines and your crafts and hobbies and projects. You notice details and act all considerate and shit. Pet him on the head even though he’s taller. Makes him all gooey on the inside and shit.

Blue balls fucking suck when you’re an alpha, and the cock doesn’t help. It’s a disgusting thing, big and swollen and aching, something his cousins and uncles jeered at.

A humiliating handicap that sent him humping and rutting against things like an animal, helpless to do anything but whine and moan and maybe lash out when they tossed rocks or shit at him.

One of his younger cousins liked to kick him in the dick, and another thought of a fun little game where they tied a rope between his legs, and, well –

Shit’s in the past, now. His cock works fine, he’s lucky enough for that. Made him strong, in a way. All those hits, anything could put him on his ass, and he’d get right back up.

It taught him that no comfort was coming, no mate, no home, no warmth, he had to curl up and bear through it, find a way to fuck it out and to not to expect anything but malice on the way out.

It’s not like he’s ashamed of it.

Shame is for people who have the luxury of pride. Toji knows what he is, what he's good for.

But a deep, tiny, stupid part of him is quaking in fear at the thought of rejection. A larger part of him, the practical side, doesn’t want to piss you off and get tossed out.

It’s nice here, too nice, he’s got to keep it going as long as he can, even though he knows your endless patience will run out on him someday.

You’ll look at him and see him for the garbage he is. An alpha, a beast, a dirty animal you’ve taken into your home and fed and pampered until he wouldn’t go away anymore. Garbage to toss out on the street, where he belongs.

One day even the image of you smiling at him will be a distant memory of the days when he had it good.

-

Toji’s gonna lose his fucking mind at this rate.

It’s not like he’s ugly. He knows he’s not ugly. He could accept maybe that he’s not your type, but from the way you have to avert your gaze whenever he walks around post-shower with a towel around his waist, you’re not at all indifferent to his body.

So why the hell won’t you fuck him?

He’s made it pretty obvious that he’s available. Not shy in his body at all. He’s grateful to you, always obedient, never denying any of your request. He’s an alpha, and you know that, you must know that, what he’s good for.

You won’t even ask. Won’t make any kind of mood, send out any signal.

He starts to wonder if you’ve got a partner waiting for you somewhere after all, just far away, and something terrible twists in his chest.

But he’s never had any patience for mixed signals. And this is going to happen no matter what he does, so he might as well say it.

“I’m going into rut,” He says, just to put it out there.

Right away, he sees your body language, little scent indicators that even betas give off. Flustered. Aroused?

“Oh – oh, well. Is there anything I can do to help? To make it easier, I mean…” You trail off, but he doesn’t give you time to be mortified by your own words.

“Unless you want to have sex with me, not much. Just let me get some food and water to wait it out in my bedroom with.”

Honestly, more than he was used to back at the compound. Nothing beat a good fuck, though. And it doesn’t help that you’re pretty attractive, too.

“Oh. Uhm.” He holds back a chuckle at your expression. Too cute. “I – I thought alphas and betas couldn’t really…”

“Oh yeah, you can’t knot a beta,” Toji shrugs, “But having someone with you is the most important part. None of the other betas I fucked have complained.” He was good for one thing, at least.

You look like you want to sink into the ground. “Do you – do you have someone – ”

He raises a brow at you, “If I did, they were a pretty shit partner, yeah? You were the one who dragged me out of that alley.”

“Well, that was just – ” You pause, and god, what he would do to find out what was going on in that little head of yours, “Basic compassion, you know?”

This time, he does laugh. “For an alpha?”

“Well, yeah! You’re human too, right?” You both know that’s not how it works. “And – and still. It’s not like you would have died, right? I was just helping you out.”

He gives you a wry smile. “Right. Anyways, there’s no one else. You’re all I’ve got.”

Oh, he knows what he’s saying. What he’s doing. He’s done it a million times before, but he’s never quite wanted it to work this bad.

Usually women fuck him and then they pity him. You haven’t fucked him yet, and you’re pitying him more than anyone ever has in his entire life.

A better man might be bothered by that. Toji? He can’t get enough.

Watching you stumble for words and stammer and avoid his gaze like prey. It strokes every last instinct he has and then some. He swears he can hear your heart racing, and his knot is starting to pulse in time with it.

There’s a whiff in the air. Tickling his senses. You’re a beta, and it’s faint, but he grins to himself over your stammered answer.

Jackpot.

-

You’re not as shy as he thought you’d be, is his first thought, when he takes you to bed.

You’re smaller than him – most people are – and delicate, breakable, he’s got to be careful. Normally he tries to feel a woman out, see if they like it hard and fast and he can go rough, but somehow, for all his desperate urges, his alpha instincts lock him up when he’s looking down at you.

It’s weird, how strong it is. How compelling. How much he wants to go along with it.

He’s got to do right by you. Treat you nice, make you feel good. Can’t fuck this up when it’s the very first time.

There’s a reason alphas are stereotyped as aggressive, and it’s biting at him now, pulsing in between his legs so painfully he thinks he could die, but Toji’s been on the verge of death before and that doesn’t scare him.

You looking at him with fear in your eyes? Flinching away or crying out? That’s fucking terrifying.

So he kisses you on the lips, works his hands down your body, against your shoulders like a massage. Enough that he can touch you hard but still be tender, still be good to you like every fiber of his being is screaming for him to be.

He’s never been this gentle in his life. Toji is all muscle, all lean performance like a panther, built to kill, but he’s so careful with you, touches ghosting along your skin until you’re humming and pressing back into him.

Taking a large, calloused hand in your own and bracing it over your breast with a bashful look.

And shit, when has he ever laughed during sex? You whine back at him, meeting his eyes as he squeezes and nips – not even hard enough to leave a mark – and something deep inside him trills at how it makes you squirm. How it makes you smell.

He kisses you again. God, he could kiss you forever. The taste of your tongue on his is the best thing he’s ever tried –

But he knows, when he spreads your legs, it’s about to be the second best.

Your hands bury themselves in hair that’s now soft and well-conditioned.

He feels like a beast, licking between your legs, drinking in your moans and wails as he laves over your clit. He feels like he could devour you forever and not be full. Like he’s going to start drooling any time he ever smells you.

A trained dog, with you clasping his hair like a short leash that he never wants you to let go of. You took him in, you fed him and kept him and cared for him, and now he’s yours.

Since he’s yours, you have to have him. It’s only right, only fair.

He makes you cum once on his tongue, then he fingers you, spreading you open with care and diligence, like any loyal hound would.

Your cunt is the purpose of his existence, the vessel for the knot that throbs agonizingly between his legs, and his pain is the evidence of his complete and utter devotion.

When you cum around four of his fingers, he pulls himself up to rub his cock against you. Spreading your slickness carefully along him. You’re not an omega, but he’s made you wet, his spit and your cum slick against him as he spreads it on himself.

Toji doesn’t think he’d mind being your dog. The thought comes to him as he buries himself deep inside you.

It feels like nothing he’s ever had before, like he’s melting, like the whole world disintegrates until all he’s got left is the wet heat of your cunt sucking him it.

He’d gladly be on collar and leash for you. Be your bloodhound, hunt down anything you wanted. Kill, bite, attack, heel.

He’d learn all your commands and jump to obey them like a trained animal. As long as you’d have him. As long as you’ll let him in.

His knot pulses and throbs just outside your entrance. He doesn’t mind if you can’t let him, in, if you never do, as long as he gets to feel this warmth.

Your arms reaching around him, holding him against you. Little noises you make while he drives into you with religious precision, hitting the best spot. Reaching with his thumb to rub over your clit. Kissing your lips, your cheek, your neck as you babble and moan when you get close.

He cums when you do. Nothing feels better than knowing he made you feel good. Every fiber of his body – muscled, powerful, built to rip and crush, kill and fuck – it trembles at the sight of you. Shivering at a bone-deep pleasure that dissipates throughout his entire form.

Alpha instincts scream at him to dig his teeth into your neck. Soft, unmarked, bared for him. It sings to him. He’s never wanted anything more.

But you’re a beta, and it would hurt you. So he lays kisses where he wants to bite. Suckles gently while you laugh at how it tickles, and smiles and kisses your lips like he can devour the sound of your joy, eat it, keep it inside himself like a light that never goes out.

You hold onto him, too. Like he’s something precious, like you want him here with you. He falls asleep like that, half-buried inside you, head buried between your breasts. He’s bigger than you, but he buries himself inside you, hides away in this cavern of warmth and softness like nothing he’s ever known.

He waits for you to pull away, but you don’t. You never do. He wakes up with you still against him, still snuggling up – the annoying bastard of a cat curled up at both your feet.

Maybe… Toji knows he’s living garbage, disposable, good for a fight or a fuck and then to be thrown away.

But he’d been good to you, hadn’t he? You liked him, for some reason he can’t understand.

Maybe – maybe if he can do just this one part good enough –

Maybe you’ll keep him, anyways.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, yandere, captive reader, omegaverse, forced bonding is implied, subjugation, some type of sexism, soft dom, but extremely patronizing

♡ fem reader

You offer to go down on him for the first time since he claimed you for himself, and his heart swells with all sorts of bliss—shock and awe, love and pride—utterly overjoyed at the pretty sight of you, so pliant and on your knees, acting like a proper Omega for a change—his cutest little mate. It’s so adorable he ought to take pictures, yet he doesn’t want to miss a thing or spoil the mood—after all, you always get so embarrassed when he brings the camera out.

So he settles for just watching—his adoring eyes resting on you, admiring how you struggle to fit all of him inside your mouth, thinking it’s the just cutest and sweetest how you try so hard for him. Bless whatever brought this new change of behavior on. He can’t be grateful enough.

It was only a couple of days ago when you’d still bite and claw and run away from him at every turn, growling and snarling like a rabid wildling and not the sweet Omega he knew you could be with the proper love and care. Maybe it’s just that—has his love for you finally tamed you? Oh, he couldn’t be more pleased if that’s it.

Look at you… trying your very best. He didn’t mind if you could only fit half of him—just seeing you try to take it all made him more than happy. The way your pink tongue slides along his veins—all teasingly and ticklish—makes him smile while looking down at you. Petting your head in smooth, encouraging strokes—reminding you to breathe every now and again.

He even pinches your cheek when you cough, crooning, “Careful now, there’s no need to rush, baby—take it slow.”

You curse him from where you kneel at his feet, trying to get it over with quickly. Despite your struggles, he seems pleased, and you think you might have managed to get yourself off the hook. That is… until he wraps his cock with one of his big hands and pulls it away from you. 

“I think that’s enough for now,” he says in his best attempt at sounding suave by nature, and yet, as you look up at him, you see it plain as day.

It makes your guts fold—the eagerness that encompasses him as he looks down at you with kind eyes and a smile—not completely able to hide the frenzy behind it.

No, please, you sulk inwardly—your clit is so sensitive from yesterday, you think you might die if he toys with it again today. You almost indulge the urge to scoot back, attempt to crawl away, and hide in false hope. But you know, chasing you around would just serve as kindling to his inner animal—he would take it as a game, hunting and pinning you down only to lick you clean like a dug-up bone.

You shudder at the thought and almost beg him to allow you to continue, almost insist you can do better, but all you manage is to bite your tongue and cry instead.

“You did so good, baby, don’t pout,” he coos, cradling your face and lifting it up to let him kiss it silly—chastely yet excessively—quick pecks all over, the same way you’d kiss something that’s just too cute for its own good.

It’s his way of comforting you, you suppose, or it might just be him poking fun. You can never really tell with him—if his coddling is all some act or something even more unsettling. But you suppose it doesn’t really matter either.

“Come here, baby, and I’ll do the rest, okay?” he asks, and yet it isn’t a question as he hauls you up off the floor and repositions you as he sees fit—on your back, belly-up beneath him.

His alpha pheromones are quick to overwhelm you, thick and suffocating, pouring over you in waves, drenching you in sweat and something else—something that makes everything sensitive.

The former fight you had when you were still independent has all but left you completely—siphoned from your being every day that’s passed and left you soft like the rest of those Omegas you vowed you’d never become—weak-willed with a body even more so. You feel like a stuffed animal at this point, full of cloudy cotton with a broken voice device that only knows how to squeak when played with.

He takes you beneath the knees and folds them down neatly by your head—one large hand taking both your summoned ankles in a single grip—and you’re locked in, unable to do much else other than pant—kept from breathing too much by the weight of your own thighs pressing down on you.

This had been what you were trying to avoid—this awful position which he seems to love just as much as you dread.

He whistles in awe at the pretty sight of you—all squished beneath him like that—face flushed, and your bloated lips parted with cute little draws of breath—tits bunched together, glossed in a sheen of sweat and heaving with the labored rise and fall of your chest—and that adorable cunt, wet and puffy, swollen up like a pink pillow eagerly waiting for him, a soft bed for his cock and a perfectly bite-sized slice of his favorite cake. His gut rumbles, and his mouth soaks. To think he hasn’t had a single taste all day—he’s beyond starving.

You squirm under him, and he chuckles again, this time breathily—showing more of the unsightly animal with the low growl that seeps into his voice, “Such a pretty girl…” It’s unclear if he’s talking to you as his inkwell eyes are set on something else. He sags forward, back hunched as he bows down to face the object of his desire with only a hair’s breadth of separation—breaths thick, puffed hot against you—canines bared in an eerie smile. “So shy…”

He ignores your wiggling completely—pinching the chunk of cunt where your clit hides, making it peak forth like a little button to press, and his grin broadens.

“There it is,” he licks his teeth with a raspy sigh—eyes wide and deadset. “My beauty.”

You squirm a little more, even though you know you’re not going anywhere until he’s satisfied. He doesn’t waste much more time—not allowing you to prepare. Keeping the pinch, he opens his mouth wide and takes the chub with eyes closed, tongue flattened and wide, cloaking your exposed clit with thirst. “Mmgh…”

He always gets like this—cute-aggressive and pussy-whipped. It’s as if he and your cunt have their own private affair, the way he completely ignores you. No, that’s not entirely fair—he gets like that when feeding you his tongue as well, but you suppose it’s easier making out with your pussy as it doesn’t need to get up for air. 

Neither does he, it seems.

He groans loudly and releases your clit from his pinching grip—but keeps his whole mouth on you—lips, tongue, and all—nose and chin too, buried there while his hand moves down to slip three digits inside, filling you up with little regard to the stretch.

Your breath flares and shudders with a whimpery moan, toes curling along with his fingers, biting your lip at how he hooks them right into the soft spot of your gummy walls, then fingerbangs you fast, right down to the knuckles each time.

“Fuck, baby—so, so good, always so good,” he slurs out into you, tongue otherwise too engaged to bother sounding coherent, yet you understand nonetheless, even though you can never really get used to it—how utterly unashamed he is. “Come on, baby, cum f’mo—cum on my face—” he all but happily begs, tongue out, slurping your slit brazenly.

He’s not a very classic Alpha—how he worships you on his hands and knees with a throat full of plead and praise. He doesn’t even touch himself—cock left hung and bobbing against the bedsheets, hard and strung up with a net of veins, pilling pearls of pre that all go to waste—too busy with you. 

It’s stupid how you’re the one who ends up feeling ignored as the unwanted and overwhelming pleasure manhandles you into submission.

“Cum, baby, give it to me.”

You mewl as his tongue draws something out from within you, making your clit blare and thrum with your heartbeat. You struggle to enjoy it, you always do, feeling forced to surrender, and yet the more you try and deny it, the firmer his hold gets, relentless as he sends you right over the edge. You yelp and seize up once it takes you—clenching tightly around his digits as they unknot your insides, turning you into utter putty in his palm. 

And even then, he doesn’t stop—as if he doesn’t know how—sighing with elation as you quake on his tongue. That crooked smile on his face, nothing short of predatory and vile as he maintains the motion of his fingers, moaning in turn at your cute spasming and all the wordless babble that leaves your lips as you shake your head, crying for him to leave it alone. “Plea’ no more—stop, too much—”

He just chuckles against you—you really are too cute for your own good. Silly little Omega, don’t you know what your pheromones do to him? But okay, fine, since you asked nicely. He gives the slit one last thorough lick before wiping his smile while sitting up.

You haven’t even started coming down when he dabs the weight of his shaft upon the sensitivity, cooing at the lewd little plaps it makes, all slick as he slides the length between your flustered pussylips—fucking through the fat of the mound, running over your full clit, again and again, while listening to you squeak more nothings.

He only croons, “Yeah, I know you like that, baby—this pretty pussy of yours just loves my attention, doesn’t it?" His eyes seem to glow with something sickly, his voice thin, just shy of unhinged. "Always so cute, I could die.”

He can’t get over it—you’re too adorable like this. Watching you pleasure him was a welcome surprise, but ultimately, this is how he always wants you—flipped and pinned with your cunt exposed to his every wish—his favorite toy that never disappoints.

“Your pretty pussy’s always such a crybaby, y’know that? Look how it weeps f’mo—so needy to get stuffed. I bet you want my knot, huh?” he keeps mumbling while using his cock to play with your overworked cunt without yet entering it. “Alright, baby—don’t worry—I’ll give it to you,” he rasps, drooling.

You can’t keep from whimpering when the bed jostles, accounting for his repositioning as he moves to mount you with his feet planted down flat on the bed. Your ankles are pinned passed your head at this point, tipping your cunt up higher than your head.

“Yeah—I’ll give you what you want.” His voice darkens, and so does the look in his eyes—soaked in something you don’t like—something wild and downright terrifying. “And I’ll give it to you good.”

You almost protest, but you know there’s no getting through to him—not with that expression. You hate Alphas, you hate him, and you really hate this awful pose—this mating-press pile-driving overkill where he always bullies into the backroom of your cunt, insisting on fucking your cervix as he digs his cockhead right at the mouth of your womb, knotting you and filling you up with the full worth of his load. It never fails to make you feel utterly wrecked and bedridden in the morning.

But he doesn’t care about that. You have no places you’re supposed to be anyway—nowhere aside from right here, in his bed, where you belong—his sweet Omega bride who’s going to give him lots of pups.

He lines himself up, pressing his head past the ring—watching it swallow around him and biting his lip at the sight. “Look at it, baby—look as I stuff that perfect pussy all the way up—”

He sinks in slowly, revering your cunt for every inch you receive—watching it in awe as it takes the entirety of his length right down to the base. It’s like a magic trick how it all disappears—you’re so tiny, and yet you’re built for this, to take every part of him in, hugging his shaft with velvet heat, milking him as he kneads the spot inside you that always makes you cry out so good for him.

“Yes, baby—that’s my girl—take it all,” he coos, all but sitting on your ass with his cock down your cunt. “It’s like your pussy’s made for me, isn’t it? Perfectly tight, perfectly deep, perfectly wet and chunky to feel like I’m fucking heaven itself—”

You feel no different from a toy when he does this—a squeaky toy manufactured for a Chihuahua puppy, yet mistakenly given to a full-grown Rottweiler. He straight dogs your cunt through several peaks—so soaked now that it fossettes down both the slope of your belly and the cliff of your spine. And still, he keeps going, rambling on like usual—all words that fail to reach you.

You’re so lightheaded you’re on the brink of passing out—overheating and out of strength, numb and tingly, beyond happy when you finally feel his knot swell within, propping you to take his seed. 

He keels over—his thighs pressed down tightly atop yours—panting above you—eyes half-mast and glazed, almost crying in bliss while feeding you his cum, knowing it's flooding your womb, breeding you full of warmth and love.

“Yes, every drop, baby—it’s all yours.” He keeps a thumb rubbing over your clit as he croons. Voice beyond lovesick, “Let’s make too many pups to count.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Gojo, Geto ♡ HQ – Kuro, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Bachira ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Umemiya, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[diejager]

Hello this would be the very first time id make a request if you still take them. Omegaverse taskforce 141 with an isekai reader who could pass as a bèta with a twist, if you heard about the pheromone perfume then yeah. Reader as a beta but snells like an omega🙂

🐼anon

Cw: pheromone perfume, omegaverse, spy, inaccurate facts, tell me if I missed any.

For something you’d once thought fictional, an imaginary creation to spend one’s time on and lose themselves when they wanted to escape the hardships of their world, it was scarily realistic. You were a fan, someone who’d followed the franchises from it’s earliest days to the most recent - and unsightingly disappointing - installment of a remake of a remastered version of a game you played as a kid. You’d even dreamed of it being a reality, living the lives and adventures besides the men and women in Modern Warfare and even Ghosts and Black Ops despite knowing that their universe was a mirror of your own, simply built and reconstructed differently than the one you were born in. 

It was a fantasy, even your strange interest in works tagged with omegaverse. To see a big man like Ghost shudder and kneel for another, to see Gaz being tenderly dominating and affectionate, to see Price reluctantly soft and grumpy, and to see Soap teasingly sly and mischievously headstrong. Sometimes, they would draw one as an omega and the other as an alpha, or as an beta and alpha couple. It was a whole roller coaster of emotions and intrigue, but a fantasy all the same.

And yet… and yet, here you were, in a body that was and wasn’t your own. It was a carbon copy of yours, but you weren’t you in it, like wearing a mask or another’s skin. That’s how you felt, especially with the scars that painted your skin like a stray sky and tense muscles that felt too hard to be fake. Perhaps it was the sudden sensitivity of your nose, the cloying in your mind and annoyance that suddenly filled you. Or perhaps it was the clean and elegant clothes you wore, a harsh dichotomy to the dark gear the others beside you wore, vests and padded body suits, weapons latched to their hips, chests, thighs and even in their hands, and the hard and cold gleam in their eyes, hidden under the darkness of the vehicle you rode. 

Any confusion you once had was washed away when time seemed to stall, the world blurring as clear and loud words were spoken in your mind. Instructions, you understood, guidance towards your goal and advice to complete it. It was a ball, you were sent to conclude a transaction under… Kate Laswell’s order, a favour you had agreed to do for her as someone who worked in intelligence and assasinations rather than brawn and breaches. She’d called you a silent killer, neither a mercenary nor an employee, you were a panther in stalk, an owl in flight, deathly silent and tenaciously lethal.

It seemed like an out-of-body experience. You were somehow a spectator to your body, and somehow the master of it. Every act was practiced, ever word spoken with a charming smile and every smile particularly persuasive. It was so simple —so easy. With their emotions flashing in your face through smell alone, your nose twitching at the scent of arousal and pleasure, the flattered and the excited. They were so - too - easy to read and control, to have them curled around your finger like fine silk. You chalked their attraction towards you to your charms and the smell that clung to your skin, a sweetness that made both men and women turn their heads to gaze at you for a lick f your scent. Pheromones. An omega’s pheromones mixed with sweet perfume. 

It helped, truly, making your work vastly easier than you’d once thought. It eased the nerve and anxiety that brewed inside of you, having done nothing but speak out loud the words that popped in your head and act out the motions that were advised to you. Your brain - mind or conscience - was a machine, a computer giving out orders and guiding you through this without any trouble. That, you were thankful for, you would have been a mess of tears and panic if not for it. It made you work quick and efficient.

And you were out within the hour, striding across the street and down the corner, walking as if you weren’t in a hurry or on a mission, nothing better than hiding in plain sight —the best of hiding spots. Within the minutes, down a few streets, turning left and right, walking circles to make sure you weren’t followed, you crossed the threshold of a textile shop, nodding at the lady working at the counter and headed to the back rooms, the employees only rooms. There, you met four men huddled around a table with Laswell at the head, all familiar figures you once fantasied about. 

“An omega?” Price sounded much deeper in person, his done low and somehow soft despite the rasp that smoking caused. 

“Beta,” you corrected, your name following as a greeting, a beast greeting another beast, head bowed in respect and acknowledgment that they returned. 

“You don’t smell it.”

It was curt and to the point, nothing you hadn’t expected from Ghost.

“Pheromone perfume,” you grinned, patting your pocket, “Neat trick, hmm?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[flowerfreya]

Cherry Wish

Fix It

Cherry Wish Masterlist

Reader takes care of Simon , while Soap wonders where he went wrong

CW: abo , beta reader , alpha soap , omega Simon

Soap is in over his head and he didn’t realize that until Simon is whimpering under him , saying your name like a prayer.

“Baby, she’s not here”, Soap whispers in his ear. Which causes Simon to let out a pitiful whine and to scent the room in a bitter undertone of his actual scent.

“Need her”, Simon sobs.

John shouldn’t be surprised that Simon is acting this way. They both imprinted on you but they wanted to take it slow and ease you in.

He didn’t realize that Simon’s omega would already think that you are theirs.

Back in the car with you there, hand on the omega’s hip, the bitter smell is already melting away getting replaced with a more outdoorsy scent that smells like rain and linen.

Simon says your name softly, you respond just as quickly fully invested in his well being, already knowing he’s going to feel bad that his alpha wasn’t enough for him omega.

“‘M I in trouble”, he questions. Still hasn’t opened his eyes and is still thrusting into thin air.

“Course not baby”, you understand that this had everything to do with biology and nothing to do with the actual person , at least not yet. “Right alpha?”, you give a gimme to Soap and look at him pointedly hoping that he will catch on.

“No of course you're not in trouble”, Soap confirms and it has Simon letting out a shaky breathe and the rest of the bitterness melts away.

At their home , you can tell they prepared for a heat. The fridge is stocked with pre-cut veggies and fruits, along with pedialyte and other easy access meals.

Even though it is Europe and most buildings do not come with central air, people that have an omega in the mix will shell out for it because an overheating omega is not a good thing and the air seems to be set on a cool 65 degrees. Simon all but pulls you into his nesting room , which seems to be separate from their room. The room is small but filled up with multiple mattresses and clothes everywhere and in the center is a circle full of soft blankets and big pillows. You feel hands grabbing on your shirt and small tufts coming out of Simon's mouth because you aren’t going fast enough.

“Calm down, I’m coming”, you say as you pull your shirt off and start to take off your pants.

“Hurry”, he holds his hand out to you waiting for you to hand him your shirt and then obsessively smells and places it right behind one the pillow that seems to be the head of the mattress. And then sniffs until he seems like he can’t breathe and turns red.

“Simon”, you question, worried that he’s about to have a heat sick drop. You don’t know when the last time he got a knot and if it’s been too long then he could get sick.

“Johnny!”, you need to get him in here and take care of his omega but he seems to be scared to that. He answers you but he doesn’t come into the room , you can hear him rummaging around in the kitchen. You try to leave the room but then Simon whimpers letting out a don’t go. Taking off your bra and pants and placing it under his pillow which calms him down , hopefully enough time to convince Johnny to come in here and take care of his omega.

Seeing him in the kitchen , cutting more fruit for whatever reason , “Hey , you know you have a heat sick omega in the other”, pointing your thumb toward the room.

He at least has the decency to look embarrassed and his ears turn red, “thought you were takin’ care of it”, he shakes his head , looking defeated , “ I caused this , I don’t know how to help him”

“Well I don’t have a knot so I can’t help him”, if he thought that you were going to baby him , he had another thing coming.

“John”, you come up to him and make him face you, “you have an omega up there that in heat , needing a knot , your knot and your mopping down here because you didn’t know he imprinted on me”, he nods his head in agreement , “okay but now you fixed and you do know , now lets get our omega fixed up , yeah”, you say to him as you start to pull him up the stairs to the omega in question.