#sigma omegaverse

[angelgoeslewd]

cannot find aNY OMEGAVERSE Sigma headcanons SO ILL DO IT

alpha sigma is 100% the alpha everyone wants to have.

he’s super in tune with his omega: aftercare during heats (or even just in general tbh), senses even the slightest change in your scent (probably will tell u when ur heat is coming even before you know). literally an omega’s alpha. he’s head over heels when it comes to taking care of you.

but do not confuse his gentle care towards you for weakness. his alphaness can be a crutch of sorts, at times. since he isn’t combat gifted, he heavily relies on his scent and fangs to keep people away from you. he is 100% the type to jump to baring his teeth when he feels like you’re in danger. which, in this omegaverse, is Not Good™️ and also Very Illegal™️ (basically on the same level as pulling a gun)

u are probably covered in his scent 24/7

in fact, he loves to come over you on his break or lunch (or bOTH) and rescent you. nuzzling your neck until he’s doused you in his own smell. 🥰 he loves your own scent, but he can’t stand the thought of anyone thinking you are anything but His.

stronger alphas like fyodor or dazai can tell he does this as overcompensation but it works on the general population Very Well. and he will keep doing it.

this also includes your mark.

he prefers if you keep it displayed and will happily remark you at anytime, but understands if you want or have to keep it under wraps. not that he likes it. (and yes, this will make him somehow scent you MORE)

but all in all, Sigma’s truly just worried about your safety. he hates to think that he wouldn’t be able to defend his other half, something so entirely His in this world that he is so objectively removed from, if push came to shove.

but his defensiveness can also work against him at times. it does make people think he’s a lot worse than he actually is. many people ask if you’re alright when you’re alone, and if you need help. you have to reassure many other omegas that your alpha is a lovely man and would never do anything to harm you, in any sort of way. your parents probably had a heart attack when you visited, thoroughly covered in Sigma’s smell. wondering if you would ever be coming back again or if you hid bruises under your clothes… of course, you brought him with you next time, and they were happy and satisfied when they met the kind, gentle man you had made your alpha.

you would be known around the casino as his. basically treated like a VIP. people would make way when you walked around. the Casino Man’s Omega was not to be messed with. most people knew better than to hit on you or make you uncomfortable. That was probably one of the only way to be thrown out, but it was most literally.

you could play any game you wanted for free, and the dealers would always make it so you could win… if you wanted. drinks and food were always on the house. anything else would be airlifted within an hour. Sigma would spare no expense on you.

the only thing that would worried him would be Fyodor. he knows he wouldn’t be able to take you from him, whether or not it was willful. he has severe anxiety attacks over you ever meeting him. and whether or not he should keep you from his knowledge or not. he knows Fyodor will probably find out anyways, and it might make it worse if he keeps you a secret from him, but the thought of you ever even touching his hand as a greeting spirals him. as a happy medium, he does tell Fyodor about you but makes sure you have a self care day in his chambers ALONE and MONITORED by no one else but himself whenever Fyodor comes around. (logistically he knows that wouldn’t stop him if he really tried but it’s a way Sigmas copes, ok!?)

he doesn’t know that Fyodor has already gone out of his way to meet you. he’s happy that you give Sigma extra motivation to stay on his plan and to defend the casino for the moment, but he does realize that you can be a loose end for his end goal. but you are a gorgeous Omega… he has never thought of himself as an Alpha to take an Omega but you might change those thoughts in him…

Sigma gets extremely needy when his rut rolls around. He’s basically holed up in his office all day, cock buried in you, as you perch on his lap, his nose shove into your neck so he can just breath you in all day long. he’s never rough, but is very handsy. you might be left with small bruises just from how many times he grabs you.

do not make fun of him if he tears up at the amount of pleasure. he has literally never experienced anything close to this before and it Euphoric. he sometimes can’t stand it, but he doesn’t want it to stop either. he didn’t even know HOW to be an Alpha before you.

and that thought is grounding. the fact that you’ve made something out of his nothing. it makes him feel worthy. it makes him feel special. it makes you feel like his home.

[z0mbie2b0y]

NOW WHY DID I GET A TORNADO WARNING WHEN I WAS READING HANNIGAM SMUT...

[angelcqre]

Like Sacrament, like Syrup

Revelation comes with the sound of bells and a letter delivered to him while he's on duty. Thick paper, a heavy envelope, and it's scripture for the way those tired eyes scan the thick paper. He reads the heavy script, a congratulations on claiming and instructions on what to do to ensure that the mating is approved.

And there, her name.

It's oxymoronic - her name, holiest of words, torn down by the angels just as Babylon had been. Brick by boring brick, piece by piece, destroyed just to be rediscovered. The language of angels, followed by the wretched duosyllabic claiming of his surname, a name long since abandoned.

But she, she she she, she has claimed him.

Of course, König has heard of omegas like her - omegas who claim alphas in dangerous jobs, conniving things hoping to coast off of life on a fat, heavy pension, but she chose him, him, all sharp edges and trembling fingers, descendant of Cain and Adam and all men who have known sin and blood on their hands.

Never before has he been chosen - no, it's always been necessity that has drawn others to him, a magnetic force they can't quite resist, but her...

She chose him.

Devotion is a funny thing. He'd never understood the words of the preacher, sat knobby-kneed and fidgeting in the pews of his small hometown's church. Der Weg zum Himmel ist schmal, holprig und voller mühsamer und anstrengender Anstiege, und er kann nicht ohne große Mühe beschritten werden.. The path to Heaven is narrow, rough and full of wearisome and trying ascents, nor can it be trodden without great toil.

But he understands now.

All of this, all of this suffering, is in the purpose of Colette, the light of her holy attention.

He wastes more than a few nights deployed fucking his fist to the sound of her name, followed by that surname, Bauer, so regular compared to the gospel of her. Shoots thick ropes of his spend over the paper until the ink bleeds, and even then, he keeps it, tracing over her name with his eyes, breathing hard through his mask. He counts down the days until the deployment is over, counts the hours and the minutes and the seconds and —

Patience is a virtue he's never had. Too twitchy.

He spends the rest of the mission impatiently taking out anybody who crosses his path, accidentally dispatching an ally in his eagerness to return home to his engel. It doesn't matter; nothing matters save the drive to return from his pilgrimage. Blessed land - he's never thought of the house he lives in as holy land, but with Colette now there, it's papal, anointed ground, blessed.

When his boots land on the driveway to his home, enshrouded in trees, far from civilization, he can smell her. Stepping inside feels holy, sacrilegious - like entering a cathedral, Konig's boots leave prints on the hardwood. Every exhale fans the scent of her, heady, intoxicating, deeper than frankincense.

"Engel.."

His voice echoes through his home, and for the first time, he doesn't find the spacious halls to be empty. No, they're appropriate - a church for him to worship at the altar of his omega. His.

"I'm home."

The smell of omega in his home is gentle, the softest scent of floral notes and vanilla, sticky-sweet and unclaimed, and for the first time, his house feels not like a tomb, but a home. Shelves have been dusted, rugs vacuumed, and, fuck, there's the scent of butter and baked goods in the air.

Dann sagte Gott, der Herr: „Es ist nicht gut, dass der Mann allein ist; ich werde ihn zu einem für ihn passenden Helfer machen.“

And in his bedroom...

Her. Curled up in his sheets, looking small and soft and perfect, a book opened to her side like she'd fallen asleep reading. Her chest rises and falls, full lips parted just so slightly in her respite. She seems so unguarded, so relaxed. Like she belongs here, belongs in his home, spirited away from the rest of the world.

Fuck, she’s even dressed in white, his engel, the pale nightgown she wears doing little to hide the soft curves of her body. So soft looking, his mate, soft hair and soft skin and soft curves. Thick thighs and wide hips, full breasts that just peek out over the neckline of her nightgown.

Lovely. Perfect, no, holy - and his.

Her chest rises and falls, her breath divinity in itself. Descendant of Eve, of the first sin, and yet, as she lies there, tucked so deeply into his bed, he can't help but find her resplendent. The moonlight spills across the skin bared from the blanket tossed off of her, too hot in the midst of sleep, and Christus, she's something else.

His. His mate, his engel, his world. One who can provide forgiveness and absolution with not but a look. His breath catches in his chest, large hands curling up into tight fists then relaxing. Lovely. So incredibly lovely.

“Wer kann eine ausgezeichnete Frau finden? Sie ist viel wertvoller als Juwelen.” He whispers to himself, fingers splaying and fisting with the need to touch.

Konig's gaze darkens as he takes in the sight of his engel curled up so small and soft in his bed. She looks fragile there amongst his dark sheets, pale and lovely, a stark contrast to the harsh edges of his sparsely decorated bedroom. He can see the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each breath, soft lips parted just so, completely vulnerable. His mate. The one who chose him.

He's never seen anything so beautiful in all his years.

The scent of her permeates the room, sweet and sticky like overripe fruit. It makes his head spin and his cock ache, already half-hard just from her proximity. She smells like salvation itself, rich and pure, untainted by his blood-soaked hands.

Konig sheds his fatigues hastily, muscles tight and tense with anticipation. He's never undressed so quickly, boots and belt hitting the floor with dull thuds. The dog tags around his neck jingle softly as he crawls onto the bed behind her, movements predatory and graceful despite his imposing size.

Christus, just looking at her makes him dizzy with want. The curves of her body are barely concealed by the thin fabric of her nightgown, the swell of her breasts visible above the low neckline, just the slightest hint of pink areolae peeking through. He trails his rough, calloused fingers down the soft curve of her side reverently, watching in fascination as she shivers in her sleep. His engel. His mate.

His.

Konig presses closer, the heat of his bare chest searing against her back even through the thin barrier of her nightgown. She smells divine, like absolution and home, like holy smoke and purification and deific chastity. He breathes her in deeply, nose brushing the sensitive spot behind her ear and making her whimper softly. The sound goes straight to his cock.

Gently, so gently, he splays his large hand over her belly, rucking up the hem of her nightgown. She doesn't stir, lost in the throes of deep sleep, even as he slowly maps out the soft, supple terrain of her inner thigh. Christus, she's perfection incarnate. An altar built just for him.

Konig's cock leaks pre-cum impatiently against the swell of her ass. He's dizzy with want, overwhelmed by her proximity. His engel. His everything. He has never needed anything as much as he needs this. Needs her.

His hand trails higher beneath her nightgown, finding wet heat waiting for him between her soft thighs. His mate might be asleep, oblivious to his presence, but her body isn't, slick gathering at the apex of her thighs, soaking the gusset of her panties in acknowledgment of the presence of a superior alpha.

Carefully, Konig hooks his thumbs under the band of her panties, easing them down her thighs. The gossamer strands of slick bridge her cunt to the fabric and he grits his teeth at the sight, having to gently peel them away. Her scent is even thicker now, unrestrained, and it makes his head spin.

She's bare before him, asleep and unaware but still wanting of him, wet for a wretched thing like him. Soft thighs parted just enough that he can see the shine of her slick coating her pretty cunt. Christus, it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Evidence of her need for him, even asleep. Proof she belongs to him.

Konig shifts, settling between her legs and nudging them wider with his knees. He's dizzy with lust, pupils blown black with desire as he looks down at her prone form. She's his. His. Made for him. The Lord has blessed their union and he'll be damned if he waits a moment longer to consummate it.

The head of his cock nudges insistently at her damp folds, already glistening with a hint of her body's sweet readiness for him. Konig's pupils are blown wide, staring down at her with nothing but ravenous hunger as his cock bobs in front of her, engorged head near brushing her soaked folds.

He doesn't bother to stretch her, doesn't bother to warm her up. Why would he? She's his mate, his engel, his. She's made for him, she chose him, wicked and unworthy as he is, and the only thing that he can think as he tears through her maidenhead like tissue paper is that —

This is what Lucifer must have felt like, offering Eve the apple.

— And how wonderful, to know the downfall of something so cherubic will be on his hands, blood spilled across rough palms. Something holy in the work of ruinous claiming, he muses. Something purposeful.

"Wunderschön…," he murmurs, the praise rumbling up from the depths of his chest. "Perfekt…"

He can smell the tang of blood in the air. Virgin blood, her blood, consecrating this unholy act of claiming what's his. Her eyes, doelike and deep like the ocean, fly open and her pretty lips part on a shriek of pain, fat tears bubbling in her eyes that he promptly bends to lap up like eucharist.

Mine.

The thought pulses in his mind in time with his thrusts, a staccato of desperate, fervent worship, over and over as he fucks his claim into her body. Teeth bared, fresh air kissing his face for the first time in weeks, he hums as she begins to paw at his chest, trying to push him away. Perhaps he'll get her handprint tattooed on his skin, though with how each touch scalds him, he imagines there will be scars.

“Frauen, unterwirft euch euren eigenen Männern wie dem Herrn,” he murmurs, voice fevered and worshipful, drinking in her glassy eyes and her parted lips. “Denn der Mann ist das Haupt der Frau, so wie Christus das Haupt der Kirche, sein Leib, und selbst ihr Erlöser ist.”

Cry as she might, he can feel the way her walls flutter around his pistoning length, her eyes squeezing shut as if this is all a bad dream. A broken sob breaks from her, and he coos at it, coos at how sweet she sounds, his engel, his mate. Each little gasp is rapturous, has hellfire licking up his spine in greedy little waves.

But no. Not until his engel has cum, not until she's broken for him.

His fingers are talons, gripping bruises into the plush swell of her hips as he grinds himself deeper. Deeper and deeper still until his knot is beginning to swell, to stretch her even further open in preparation to lock them together. A calloused thumb finds the button of her clit - he'd researched for this, intent on spoiling his little mate - and begins to roll it back and forth, unpracticed but determined, and she keens, eyes flying wide and lips falling open. She all but bucks into his touch, clawing at him, claiming him with every raised line.

As if she wants him as much as he wants her.

The thought has König's eyes rolling back, jaw clenched in a rictus of rapturous bliss. He can feel it, the telltale throb and swell of his knot as it begins to catch with every harsh, punishing thrust—stretching Colette wider, pushing her to the limits of what her body can endure.

His lips curl upwards, and he bends over, an unstoppable force in the wake of her claiming, lips brushing against the pale column of her neck, taking, tasting, until she's shrieking her pleasure and sobbing.

It's not even when she's limp and trembling and overstimulated that he slows, stills, stops, doesn't dare pause the worship at her altar that has his hips stuttering and his knot swelling, throbbing insistently against the gummy walls of her cunt. Addictive, like this is the only thing that has ever mattered, like this is what he was made to do.

Christus, yes - this is right. This is what he was made for, this act of divine conquest and claiming. To take and ruin and breed, to sow his seed and brand his mate and let the world bear witness to the unholy, rapturous fruit of their joining.

Colette's breathless, pained sobs are like gospel to König—rapturous hymns consecrating the unholy fucking he's laid upon her. Her tear-streaked cheeks glisten in the low light, rosy lips parting on those broken, helpless little sounds as she squirms weakly beneath him in the midst of her undoing.

Overstimulated. How cute.

But Konig isn’t done. His thumb finds her clit and works at it again, rough circles, working her up up up again around his knot, leaving her gasping and mewling and choking out little pleas for him to stop, please. Each word is a prayer, has him humming softly and nosing at the curve of her neck.

His hips stutter, knot finally locking inside of her, and he groans as he begins to spill, scalding cum filling those holy walls until her stomach is just that slightest bit swollen with it. Bred - thoroughly bred.

She already smells like him. Like the slightest hint of violence and lemongrass. She was made for him, his engel, his purpose, and this is proof of that.

“Mein Wunder,” he rasps, dragging his lips against where her scent is strongest. “Gott im Himmel hat dich für mich geschaffen.”

He wonders if Adam felt the same way he feels now, entranced and enamored, but even Eve had been fallible.

His engel is not.

Perfect, she splays beneath him, all soft curves and lips glossy from her spit, and he can’t help the way he growls low in his chest at the sight of her. He’ll worship her, he’s sure of it. The sound of her name, co-lette, curls hot against his ribcage, and he aches to finalize it, to brand her as much as she’s branded him.

His engel, clever as she is, knows what he intends to do when his lips draw back, baring elongated fangs, hollow and dripping with promise.

She'll forgive him for the roughness. He knows she will, she's his mate after all, but for now, he splays a large hand against the small of her back to keep her from squirming off of him —

(his knot isn’t deflated yet, she’ll only hurt herself in her panic. such a silly, foolish little thing, doesn’t she know better?)

— and bites.

Blood, sweet and syrupy, floods into his mouth as his teeth close around her mating gland, coats his tongue and slides into his maw like something holy. Blood of Jesus, eucharist, no, holier than eucharist. No tepid wine can compare to the taste of her, all-encompassing and heavy like sin.

She screams, poor thing. Of course she does, the gland is sensitive and he's sure the venom will burn, but with how she’s close to shattering on his knot again, he's sure she can handle it. He murmurs soft prayers against her throat, lips smeared in her blood, and draws her closer despite the way she thrashes in his arms.

(weaker than him, she's so much weaker than him. something to protect. to hold. to keep locked away in the eden he's made of his home, far away from any snakes who might seek to cause her fall.

to have and to hold and to cherish, he thinks distantly.)

"Mein kleines lamm," he mutters, breath humid and sticky against the ragged tears of the wound. "Ich werde dich lieben bis zu dem Tag, an dem ich sterbe."

And even then - in death, would God be able to rip him from her side? At Saint Peter's gate, would he be able to separate them? Konig is no holy man, no righteous one, and he has no qualms damning this soft little angel to hell alongside him, if it means that her velvet cunt and her sweet moans stay close by.

No, best to damn her to his side.

He snakes one arm around her, even as she goes limp, rabbiting pulse slowing as exhaustion claims her. Drawing her close, he brushes his lips to her brow, to her cheeks, gliding her blood to spread tacky and cold across her face. Such a brave little engel, facing such pain. She’ll never experience anything like that again, he’ll make sure of it.

(except for him, of course.)

The thought has his knot throbbing once more, and he sucks in a sharp breath, clutching her prone form tighter. There will be time for that later, time to take her apart bit by bit so that he might curl up against the cradle of her intestines and stay there forever. Time to breed and take and ruin and—

Later.

For now, he contents himself to hold her, to smooth her hair back, out of her face. To murmur soft revelations against the mating bite he can’t seem to stop going back to, lapping up her blood like the finest wine.

He wonders if her cunt will taste as sweet.

Is it blasphemy, to ruin such a creature? His lips catch on her mating gland, teeth worrying at the edges until fresh blood blossoms across his palate, tinged with the acris taste of his venom. There’s something blasphemous about it, certainly, to taint her so, to make her his, but he supposes that there’s righteousness in it too.

Righteousness in *her*.

Claiming her is a sin worth any punishment. An indulgence he's ached for, dreamt of in the darkest nights on deployment. Only to wake, sweat-slick and aching, to the echo of her name on his lips.

And now she belongs to him. In sickness and in health, for better or worse. He can already see the way she’ll smile and blush as he lists his wedding vows - Ich nehme dich als meine Ehefrau. Ich verspreche dir die Treue in guten und in schlechten Tagen, in Gesundheit und Krankheit, dich zu lieben und zu achten, bis uns der Tod scheidet.

(until death do they part)

[pack-the-pack]

✦Dynamifluid/Other Dynamics Pride Flag✦

✦The meaning of the colours and shapes✦

This one is a bit more simple because Dynamifluid people or other dynamics in-between can claim the other dynamics flags too and their meanings are all incapsulated in this one all at once.

✦ Blue: Symbolizes Alphas. See the Alpha flag for reference. ✦ Green: Symbolizes Betas. See the Beta flag for Reference. ✦ White: Symbolizes Pride. Pride in being not just one Dynamics, but multiple, or even being a tertiary dynamics (Theta, Sigma, Delta, etc.) ✦ Lime: Symbolizes Dinamifluids and Other Dynamics. This is the colour I attribute with Dynamifluids because It's a colour between Yellow and Green. So literally a colour that is inbetween. ✦ Pink: Symbolizes Omegas. See Omega flag for reference. ✦ Grey: Symbolizes Fluidity and In-Betweeness. The grey is the colour between black and white, and it symbolizes the fluidity of Omegaverse as well as the dynamics themselves, where-in an individual if they so wish to, or feel like it's right for them, can shift between the dynamics. ✦ Inverted 8 pointed star: Symbolizes Focus on the Lesser Known Dynamics. In the Miscecanis flag, the "inbetweens" are smaller in comparisson to the other 3 main dynamics + the tertiary ones. But here this is inverted. The In-Between of Dynamics takes the front seat and is shown bigger and prouder.

I hope you guys like it. You can check the other flags here:

Miscecanis Pride Flag. Omega Pride Flag. Alpha Pride Flag. Beta Pride Flag.

[omegai]

Sigma

anyone who identifies as a sigma may use this flag. as this dynamic has many definitions across many verses, there is no one definition for it.

this blog is about identity, not kink

[jojotier]

This is has been haunting me like. what are sigma males in the omegaverse?

[greeneyedsigma]

A/B/O idea: Alpha! Kid has zero idea how to deal with omegas, but then Omega! Luffy isn’t anything like any omegas he’s ever met before.

Like she smells good, and that’s normal. But she’s not gentle. Or skittish. Or quiet. Really not quiet. Oh my god, she’s so fucking loud.

And she has no issue meeting Kid’s most obnoxious Alpha-ness head-on with an energy that keeps him on his toes.

Kid honestly forgets Luffy’s even an Omega...right up until she’s going into heat.

While they’re trapped in a mountain cave.

With a blizzard raging.

Did Kid mention she smelled good? Because she smells so fucking good.

[kusundei]

[miscecanis-culture-is]

Sigma culture is EXPLODING over the “Sigma Male” edits. Lol.

-Sam/Mike🏁.

.

[obey-me-headquarters]

I feel like, as a group who likes A/B/O, haven't embraced the Sigma as a valid dynamic in our omegaverse fanfic.

And I feel like that's a real shame! We should reclaim this sexist term and put it into our smutty fanfic!

So I volunteer myself as a sacrifice and will journey into Sigma male spaces to learn:

1) what a Sigma even is

2) How a Sigma is supposed to behave

3) What their role is in the A/B/O hierarchy

And once I have gotten all of that, I will write Sigma!Reader X Omega!Character fanfic in the hopes that it will inspire others to do the same, and that the role will become apart of Omegaverse.

Anyway, if yall have any Sigma headcanons I would LOVE to hear them!! How do you think a Sigma behaves? Do they have ruts? Are their scents stronger than Alphas or Omegas?

If you know other people that have written Sigma headcanons or have Sigma posts, I would LOVE to see them!!

[box-of-teenage-souls]

Omegaverse Socio-Sexual Heirarchy

Alpha

The dominant, charismatic leaders. They are strong and assertive and oftentimes aggressive and territorial. These individuals excel at most things and use their time and resources wisely. Determination and tenacity are their main attributes.

Sigma

The silent, socially subdued Alphas. Although they share most of their characteristics with the upper rank (i.e. psychological & physical), they are not easily swayed. These people are "lone wolves" and usually prefer to achieve their goals in the dark.

Beta

The neutral, amicable lieutenants. They are modest and steadfast workers. These individuals tend to stay out of tense situations and are very competitive. They are eager to prove themselves and are dependable and reliable allies.

Delta

The mellow, easygoing Betas. Much like Sigmas are to Alphas, Deltas share most of their characteristics with their immediate upper rank. Unlike Betas, these people lack initiative and rarely seek attention for their work, but they don't really mind.

Gamma

The mysterious, cunning hybrids. Their reproductive system, scent and semi-serene behavior are on par with the upper and lower ranks. This group isn't typically aggressive but are known for being clever tricksters, at times even manipulative.

Omega

The submissive, empathetic peacemakers. They are typically loving and gentle, and will provide support in any way they can. Although nearly easily subdued, they are intelligent and patient thinkers who value a strong sense of justice.

Epsilon

The stubborn, decisive Omegas. These unique individuals share some of their psychology and behavior with Alphas or Sigmas, but are biologically similar to Omegas. Although inferior, they can be fierce and tough and won't back down without a fight.

-----

CAN Carry but CANNOT Impregnate (including queer individuals)

• epsilon males/females

• omega males/females

• gamma females

• delta females

CAN Carry and CAN Impregnate

• gamma males

• beta females

• sigma females

• alpha femmales

CANNOT Carry but CAN Impregnate

• delta males

• beta males

• sigma males

• alpha males

-----

I thank @sparkysxi and @abodynamicslife for this inspiration (lol more like direct copy) Below are the links to their posts

[omegaversetheory]

(For example, an interdynamic who has more alpha-oriented genes, hormones and instincts and wants to fit into a single dynamic, could try to be more similar? How would that be seen?) Would there be a specific name for someone who is interdynamic and identifies with that, like "I don't really fit in with a specific dynamic, so I really like being interdynamic (or whatever name they use)? What kind of changes does it cause?

^ see post above and check out these resources. Lots of different approaches, but hopefully enough to give you some ideas :)

[wyuovvia]

reblog if youre an alpha skibidi rizzler with w baby gronk rizz

ignore if youre an L beta who fails at fantum taxxing 🤥🤥🙄

[vaamm]

"golden retriever bf" "black cat gf" have you tried looking for someone that actually loves you and you genuinely like them???

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Every time I see terms like sigma male, I sit there scratching my head for a hot minute going, “I don’t remember that in any omegaverse fics?”