#sfw abo

[msfcatlover]

@alycat76: What’s the platonic a/b/o one about?

Okay, this is immediately going under a readmore, because I know plenty of people hate the very concept of A/B/O, and I don’t want to make them uncomfortable.

.

SO! I have recently discovered that purely platonic A/B/O stories are actually something I kinda love. It’s about what it does to the setting, and the inter-character dynamics, and the incredibly intense hurt-comfort sickfics you can get out of it, and also I’m a sucker for empathetic bonds in fiction (people really don’t do enough with them.)

But there were some tropes that got repeated over & over again, while others I’d be interested in seeing just… never came up at all? And in the process of me spitballing what those fics would look like, I accidentally tripped and made a whole cohesive AU. Oops.

(Also, I saw like one person say, “What if betas could cancel out other smells as well as control their own,” in an ask somewhere, and proceeded to come up with a whole… thing that lets betas get in on all the sickfic & presentation fun that comes with this AU. It may or may not take up a full page of my notes. If anyone wants the specifics, just ask and I’ll post them.)

Anyway, the main pillars that this AU is built on are:

1. There are several fics where baby!Jay finds Robin in heat, knows full well how incredibly dangerous that is, and risks his own skin to hide Robin until either the heat passes or (most often) until Batman shows up. I love all of these. You know what I haven’t seen even once? Baby!Jason saving Dick Grayson in basically that same situation.

2. There are not enough fics where Bruce is a beta who uses his scent-control abilities to further separate his identities! *shoves my “Batman is just as much a public performance as Brucie Wayne” agenda into the very meta of this AU*

3. I am very fond of the “Jason’s big comeback plan goes completely off the rails” trope, especially when it comes in the form of needing to save a member of his family. I’ve seen a couple A/B/O fics with this premise with Tim. I have not seen any with Dick.

(Oh look, mirroring!)

4. It is here I realized why rut/heat-sickfics immediately became my drug of choice, and hey, if I’m gonna be projecting I might as well go all the way with it. *hands Dick a small mountain of medical complications on top of everything else*

5. My love of deceptive appearances (and the fact I have only found one (1) alpha!RH!Jason fic where I actually liked his part of it) means I am always going to default to omega!Jason.

6. So have you considered: Pack Alpha (by default) Tim? Oh, Bruce is still the Head of the pack, Tim doesn’t get to be automatically in charge or anything. But being the Pack Alpha comes with a whole host of extra instincts, which is only complicated further by the fact that as far as the rest of Gotham is concerned, when Tim first took on that role he wasn’t connected to the Wayne pack at all.

7. Hey, what do you think this particular arrangement does to Damian’s relationships with the family? Especially if we assume that, say, Talia refused to tell Damian their designations because it would be incredibly foolish to get a bunch of preconceived notions about the Bats just because of their secondary genders.

Things spiraled from there. I have, like, 10 drafts of both of those “Jason rescues Dick” fics, a whole bunch of fallout from Dick finding out Jason’s the Red Hood (some humorous, some not very much not,) Damian having a real rough time of it at the manor…

Here are my favorite story beats.

.

Dick actually initially rescued himself from the kidnappers, but then he was barefoot in Crime Alley with a chemical heat coming on fast while they looked for him. Dick yanks Jason down into his hiding space behind a dumpster before the kidnappers see Jason. Once the kidnappers leave, Jason offers to let Dick hide with him until the heat passes. Jason’s squat even has running water, even though it’s cloudy & cold.

Jason at some point says something about wishing he could make the nest better for Dick (who is obviously used to nicer things, but trying to make the best out of it,) which is when Dick remembers the emergency cash sewn into his clothes (Bruce is paranoid enough and you know it,) and gives it to Jason to go get whatever he thinks would be best.

While Jason is at the store, he sees the news about Dick Grayson being missing, an obviously distraught Bruce Wayne pleading for anyone to call with information. Jason remembers how Dick kept saying that his dad would be so worried. Jason remembers what it was like to sit up at night, wondering when or if his mom was coming home. Jason takes a few coins of his change to a pay phone to call the number, just to reassure Bruce that Dick’s safe.

Jason definitely panics when Batman kicks the door in that night, because as far as Jason’s concerned a very large, angry alpha just barged in on the omega Jason was trying to help (Dick even used the stupid Batman print towel Jason bought for him as the base of the nest, how is this fair?) Bruce sees a frightened, packless child ready to throw hands with the fucking Batman in order to keep Dick safe. Dick refuses to leave without Jason, because Dick’s already adopted him.

-

All of Gotham knows Jason was more Dick’s puppy than Bruce’s. Bruce is still the one who legally adopts Jason, since Dick is like, 16 at this point (Jason’s 10-11).

There’s a lot of whispering about why Dick completely disappeared from the public eye after Jason died. Dick so obviously adored the kid, and the few pictures people do get look so miserable, that most Gothamites get aggressively offended on Dick’s behalf if you try to suggest he had anything to do with it. He’s not even 20 and he’s grieving. Cut the boy some slack.

-

At some point after Tim becomes Robin, Dick needs to make a scene so he has an excuse to leave a party. After a quick check in to make sure Tim’s okay with it, a very drunk Richard Grayson proceeded to get on Janet Drake’s case about not appreciating the wonderful puppy she had waiting for her at home.

After helping him out of the room, Alfred came back to apologize for Master Grayson. “You’ll have to forgive him. It’s almost Jason’s birthday.”

In the greatest social blunder Janet ever made in her life (partially distracted by the wine stain on her new silver dress) she snapped out, “He’s still upset about that?”

(Fortunately for her, the room was loud enough that her voice didn’t carry far. But every conversation in a 20ft radius stopped dead. She did realize immediately and start to apologize, that came out wrong, oh god, she didn’t mean it like that!)

(Tim suggests Dick not antagonize Tim’s parents in the future after all.)

-

This is actually the verse that first made me realize I wanted Tim to ask Steph to be Robin in his place, because in this verse they’re not just losing Robin, they’re losing their Pack Alpha with nobody to replace him. That is so much compounding trauma just from one member leaving the pack, but if Steph takes Tim’s place as Pack Alpha before Tim’s dad makes Tim cut himself out of the pack…

-

(Cass & Alfred are both betas, for the record.)

-

Dick has a bad reaction to the inducers the second time Jason has to save him. By the time Jason hauls Dick back to the nearest safehouse, Dick’s such an emotional mess that the only way Jason could ever calm Dick down is for Jason to reveal his identity and repair their pack bond.

Dick knows it’s Jason, because you can’t lie through the bond.

(Tim shows up at some point in the night, and refuses to leave.  “He said no alphas,” Jason snarls.  “I wouldn’t be much of one if I left him alone like this with a stranger,” Tim snaps back.) (Dick drags Tim into the nest too as soon as he realizes Tim is there.)

-

Neither Dick nor Tim tell Bruce about Jason, because Jason made it clear he didn’t want Bruce to know. They do both proceed to hound Jason, trying to coax him back into the pack. Bruce is very uncomfortable with both of his sons being so determined to apparently befriend their newest rogue.

(I just have this delightful mental image of Nightwing dropping in on one of Red Hood’s meetings, saying he’s not there for trouble, framing it as an “I owe you for saving my skin” sort of thing. Before he leaves, Nightwing flashes his brightest smile at Hood. “By the way, Robin thinks you’re cool.”

Half of Jason’s goons die laughing as soon as they get over the shock.)

-

Damian picks a fight with Tim because (despite Talia’s best efforts,) Damian did pick up several assumptions about the different designations. Tim was the next-newest, so Damian could cement his place in the pack by beating the lowest alpha, surely.

Damian realized his mistake as soon as Bruce arrived. The pack Head is a beta. The Second is an omega. Which means Damian just picked a fight with the Wayne Pack Alpha.

And—since Tim is still breathing, speaking, and glaring daggers at Damian—Damian lost.

(Tim meets Damian’s gaze for 10 agonizing seconds before turning away with a lift of his chin; dismissive, just like Ra’s would do. Damian’s just like, “I am so dead.”)

-

(I have a bunch of other stuff that’s pretty much Hurt No Comfort of Dick dealing with his medical problems & also how this particular set up would probably affect his various assaults, and how the trauma from those would then compound back into those medical problems. It’s… it’s not good. It’s not fun. I don’t think anyone wants to hear about that.)

(It does give Jason the chance to hunt down Catalina Flores, and gave me the chance to type the line, “I don’t think you understand. I’m not his friend. I’m not his boyfriend. I’m not even a hero. I’m his son.”)

#(If you ship it please don’t tell me.) #platonic a/b/o #platonic abo #platonic omegaverse #omegaverse #sfw omegaverse #sfw abo #sfw a/b/o #abo batfamily #omegaverse batfamily #batfam #batfamily #bat family #bat fam #bat siblings #batsiblings #batbros #batbrothers #bat bros #bat brothers #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #omegaverse!dick grayson #omegaverse!jason todd #omegaverse!tim drake #omegaverse!bruce wayne #my writing

[kny-agere]

I think I’m gonna use this idea for a non agere fic but thinking abt omegaverse like a cg teaching their little how to scent 🙈

“See baby we rub our wrists together so the smell sticks to you.”

And the little would laugh and be like “that tickles!”

And then cg gives them a big hug!! Maybe even rubs their neck scent glands together. “And now it’s like I’m with you even when I’m not.”

“Yay! Smells just like you.”

#age regression #sfw agere #sfw abo #sfw omegaverse #agere concept

[limelocked]

a/b/o prompts that are sfw that simply just seem interesting to me

An alpha and omega pair who are in their like 20s and are roommates, they aren’t into each other at all and nowhere throughout the story would they like learn to love each other, the rent is just easier to pay together and they’re friends. The story would be the complexities of living together and keeping track of each other’s heat and rut just in case someone is a forgetful bitch. It follows the omegas daily life where they have to deal with there always needing to be a Very Trusted beta or alpha that’s like the designated safe person when going clubbing. The alpha having to deal with no one taking them seriously when they say there’s nothing romantic or sexual between them. If they ever sleep with each other it’s not played for titillation but for drama like one of us was out of our mind and we made a mistake together and how will our friendship survive this breach of trust

Mystery story about a guy who works as a detective and there’s all these extremely violent deaths that seem like fucking animal attacks but people say there’s pheramones left at the scene so detective guy thinks it’s a sex crime. Possible twists is that it’s not a sex crime induced by rut which is the leading theory and the second twist possible is that it Is rut (users choice if the victims were violated before the murder or if rut induced murder counts legally as a sex crime anyways) and that the detective is unknowingly the culprit and after that they go on a corruption arc

A sports drama that looks at how pheramones affect sports, how a/b/o is treated within sports (is there an omega only national team for example), and related doping scandals

Mob story where the main character is an omega but is also the scariest motherfucker around who Will break your ankles and make you run away from pending death, they deal in prescription drugs like selling harder opiates and hormone supplements/suppressants, only reason main character is an omega is for drama purposes relating to how they deal with alpha pheramones and how they’ve adapted to using their own pheramones like an alpha or beta would (possible transness here)

A collection of stories with the main character being a nameless barista or bartender who we only learn about thru the advise he gives others. All the short stories are patrons telling him their tales of woe and him trying to help or just giving a listening ear, we find out that he has a husband and is an omega who has at least one child, also he has an Amazingly large social circle

Story about a person who on a hike in the middle of shitfuck nowhere goes into heat and is found by a recluse beta who is ClueLess and thinks they just have some terrible sickness and very respectfully try to nurse them back to health and no thank you I won’t sleep with a sick person what if I catch it or you get worse the nearest hospital is So far away, the person ends up staying with the beta even after due to like depression or other worldly woes and it’s just a cute thing that might be a romance where the most sexual thing is the heat and the attempt to give the beta sex education, neither of which needs to be erotic

#sfw abo #sfw omegaverse #like look man I wanna know the world not the sex #invested in the barista/bartender already #talking to someone who’s pregnant and freaking out and him thinking back on when he was pregnant

[merakiui]

angels in tibet.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, obsession, abo/omegaverse (alpha azul & omega reader), knotting, brief implications of breeding, mirror sex, sugar daddy, age gap (azul is 50 and reader is 24) note - while experiencing a nasty bout of low self-esteem, you fear azul has lost interest in you. on the contrary, he can't get enough.

I’m not sure about this…

You fidget in front of the horizontal mirror, tugging at the sheer material of your violet babydoll. It’s a beautiful piece, matched with a pair of dainty, crotchless panties, but there’s something about it that doesn’t fit right. Will this make you more irresistible? Were you irresistible to begin with? Maybe you’re worrying over nothing. Azul is a very handsome alpha, looking as affluent as he sounds and smells. It’s natural he would receive all kinds of compliments. Having attended dozens of dinner dates with him throughout the year, you’ve grown accustomed to the occasional interruption—an omega overwhelmed with his presence or an alpha hoping to gain another wealthy connection.

Compared to the exquisite company he keeps, you feel worthless—a speck of nothing versus a brilliant something.

A gentle knock at the door shakes you from your self-conscious spiraling. You pat yourself down to give your anxious hands a mindless task.

“J-Just a moment!”

“Is everything all right?”

You glance at yourself in the mirror once more. “Yes, I’m fine! I’ll be out in a second.”

“There’s no rush. Take your time.”

Steeling your nerves, you swallow razored insecurities and reach for the knob.

Stop thinking about it. Lots of omegas approach him all the time. It’s the same for alphas and betas. Sometimes they approach me, too. You crack the door open and nervously step out into the bedroom. But he looked so happy when that one omega was talking to him…

Azul’s cerulean hues snap up to view you from where he lounges on the end of bed loveseat. His stare trails up the length of your legs, assessing every inch of you as if you’re a rare gemstone and he’s a skillful lapidary. You cover the distance to reach him, suddenly shy.

He runs his hands up your arms once you’re within reach. “I was right to assume that set would look stunning on you.”

“You’re always right,” you say with a superficial giggle, admiring his dusky eyeshadow behind the lenses of his glasses. You swipe his hair aside and lean down to press a kiss to his forehead. “It’s nice. Thank you for the gift.”

Azul hums his acknowledgment. His hands crawl along your sides, grabbing at your hips. You allow yourself to be pulled down to his height, his thigh between your legs. Your bare pussy brushes against beige trousers, and it sends a pleasant shiver up your spine. His fingers dance across skin, searing in the same way his lips are when they ghost over the juncture between shoulder and neck. He licks and nips at the area for a moment before withdrawing slightly, his tongue free of the bitter, medicinal taste of suppressant gel.

“No blockers?”

“It’s fine. I’m with you, and my heat isn’t scheduled for another week.”

“What makes you think I won’t give into libertine impulse?”

At the sly implication that he’d mark you as his, you feel a fresh bout of slick pool between your legs, leaking out onto his thigh and wetting fine fabric. Azul notices this and chuckles.

“Y-You wouldn’t,” you manage through your embarrassment, shifting awkwardly.

“Is that right?”

“You probably want a better omega o-or a strong alpha. Someone like yourself.”

Azul, who had contented himself at your neck, pulls back to look at you. His hands settle upon your waist to hold you still—to prevent you from wriggling away.

“What makes you say that?”

“Nothing… I just assumed—well, you’re…you. I’m me.”

He frowns, easily reading between the lines. “Do you find yourself undesirable?”

“You’re popular. Rich. Good-looking… You could have anyone you want.”

“Variety means nothing if it doesn’t include my favorites.”

“I’m your favorite?”

“Such disbelief… Is it really so surreal?”

“But I’m nowhere near your level.”

“Who said you had to be?” Azul takes your hand and brings it to his lips. He kisses the top of it. “You’re perfect as you are, mio tesoro.”

You spend a long minute watching him. He can’t really mean that. Azul isn’t your boyfriend or your alpha. He’s the parody of one—a sugar daddy who spoils you with luxurious trips and hefty allowances, and in return you offer your time, companionship, and body. Tonight is no different. Just another dinner as per the arrangement. Another night spent in a high-rise hotel. Another transaction.

“You don’t mean that,” you say, ice crystallizing each word. “You’re just saying that.”

“I have no reason to lie.” He glances past you at the tall floor mirror, an idea sparking in lust-lidded eyes. “I’ll prove it.”

His intentions are lost on you, even more so when he moves you off of his leg and onto the cushions below. You sit with your back against the bed, a concoction of curiosity and caution bubbling within you. You can smell him, crisp like a new car, the musky, unforgettable scent of salt and sage. Before you can ask, he lowers to his knees and parts your legs to get a look at your dripping pussy.

“So eager…” he muses, his breath fanning across your folds. You bite back a whine. “And it’s all for me.”

“All yours. Always yours.”

Another wave of alpha arousal blankets the room, thick like smoke. You realize he’s done away with his scent blockers for tonight. Could that explain your territorial jealousy and dampened mood? Is it because it’s bothersome to think that another omega expressed so much desire towards Azul—that they were treated to his enticing smell even though it’s a luxury often reserved for you? Is it really his money you’re after or something grander?

You want to think it’s the former.

It must be, right? There’s no way it could be the latter. You’re just caught between fantasy and reality, bordering a beautiful illusion garnished with the impossible. 

Azul’s fingers dig into the soft pudge of your inner thighs, spreading them further despite your weak attempt to shut them. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“Don’t hide from me, principessa. It’s nothing I haven’t seen already.”

“Still…” You flinch when he presses the pads of his fingers against your slit.

“What’s the matter?” He lifts his hand for you to see. Your slick clings to his digits in dewy strands. “You’re so wet for me, and yet you seem…distracted.”

“It’s nothing. I’m thinking.”

“About?” When you refuse to answer, he leans in to lick a languid stripe up your cunt. You slacken against the bed, a gasp rattling through your lungs. Azul makes a dramatic show of licking his lips clean. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me, bambolina.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, worrying your lip between your teeth, as you debate your next admission. Rather than say it outright, you tiptoe around it with a shaky mumbling: “D-Do you usually call other omegas by pretty names?”

“Just you.”

“Just me?”

“Have I not been unfalteringly faithful to you all this time?”

“You have. I’m just wondering…”

Azul waits for you to finish that sentence. When it becomes obvious you’ve lost it, he fills in the blanks. “I thought of you all throughout tonight’s dinner. So much it nearly spoiled my appetite.”

Unconvinced, you crack your eyes open to glimpse him. His head is between your legs, lips centimeters from your cunt, and it leaves you wilting once more. He looks good on his knees in his fancy suit. You wish he was yours.

What a dangerous wish.

Azul meets your stare. He removes his glasses and hands them off to you. 

“Be a dear and hold these for me.”

“Looks like a new pair.”

“I thought I’d try circular frames again. What do you think? Fitting, no?”

“Very fitting. Like an old man.”

Azul’s grip on your thighs tightens ever so slightly. His voice comes out sharp and strained when he speaks next. “Is that so? I assure you I’m still plenty youthful.”

“You age like wine, Mr. Ashengrotto. The finest kind.”

“And your beauty is timeless.”

“You say it so easily, but do you mean it?”

“Most ardently.”

Your argument is stifled when he leans in to taste you again. This time, rather than retreat, he remains between your legs. His lips are warm and soft against your pussy, his tongue all too tempting as it trails over the area. A startled gasp slips past parted lips when he pushes in, and it isn’t long until you’re deflating against the bed. 

Your doubtful thoughts are temporarily silenced, numbed with slow, slothful salacity. You grab fistfuls of his hair, tugging it tousled, and he groans in response to your harsh treatment.

“Ooh… Mmh, fuck…” You blink up at the ceiling, breathless.

Too good.

You push him closer to your crotch, to which he rewards you with a sloppy slurp of your slick. The obscenity of it all has you hot and aching, and you submit bonelessly to the bliss he provides as if you’re simply drifting down a calm river. Azul laps at your folds like a man parched. He hums his appreciative delight, each vibration shaking you to your core, and the sensations only serve to triple your pleasure when one of his hands slides over to find your clit. He tweaks it between two fingers just to listen to you come undone.

It takes everything in you not to crush him between your thighs. Although with how hungrily he fucks you with his tongue, you think he might enjoy the suffocation. He sets a sweet pace, one that has you grinding down against his mouth in a desperate attempt to reach your climax. You open your mouth to beg for more, but all that tumbles free are shaky gasps and low groans.

As if sensing your unspoken need, Azul draws his tongue out. A thin strand of saliva strings from your pussy and his lips, connecting both for a fraction. Just when you think he might’ve finished, he swaps his tongue for two fingers. They stretch you open while he nurses on your clit. Slowly, like he has all the time in the world in this opulent hotel room, he curls his slim digits inside you. They press against your walls, searching for the spongy spot that will have you seeing galaxies. Once more, you’re reduced to a foggy-headed mess.

In this room, where nothing else matters, it’s just you and him. There is no outside world. No other alphas, omegas, or betas who might distract him. No other factors that might convince him to toss you aside, to grow tired of you, to abandon you…

Azul takes full advantage of your woozy state, pumping his fingers in and out. Paired with the way he lavishes your clit with attention, it sends you spiraling into a sudden orgasm. You grip his hair forcefully, pin him in place, and gush on his face with a strangled moan. He stays between your legs to lick you through it, running his tongue across your folds to gather as much of your slick as possible. And then he’s pulling away to offer you a boyish grin, seeming quite proud of himself. It adds deceptive youth to his weathered features.

Blinking pleasured tears away, you gaze at him until his figure gradually gains clarity. His face is wet, glistening with your essence, and it fills you with newfound heat.

“That was quicker than I expected,” he says, his voice a playful purr. “Were you anticipating this? Or perhaps my technique is simply unmatched. You’ve always been so sensitive for—”

You move without forethought, grabbing at the jewel-encrusted lapels of his fashionable jacket to yank him up to your height. His blue eyes are blown wide, his mouth parted in the middle of a mute question, when you smash your mouth against his. It’s short and sloppy. You taste yourself on his tongue.

“So impatient…”

Recovering from the momentary startle with newfound cupidity, Azul surges forward for a real kiss. You breathe him in and come away with a noseful of pheromones. It spins your mind dizzy, banishes rationality to dark, desolate corners, and renders you addicted. You allow him to lick into your mouth to taste expensive wine in every crevice. You’re avaricious in your approach when you pull him closer, desiring to feel his weight against yours. He falls on top of you, his hands placed on either side of your head to keep himself propped, and you peer up at him through glazed eyes. It brings you smug satisfaction when you reach between your bodies to feel his erection straining against his pants.

Breathing hot and heavy, you scrabble to grab hold of his shoulders. “Kiss me again.”

“Aren’t you forward? If I didn’t know any better, I’d hazard a guess that you’re jealous.”

“I—” you clamp your mouth shut, debating your words, before opening it again— “I am. I want you all to myself. I want you to look at me and only me during our dinners. I hate when other omegas talk to you… It’s not fair. Why do you have to be so amazing?”

Your confession catches him off guard, for he blinks at you owlishly. The surprise doesn’t remain for long, though, because he quickly composes himself. A gentle smile graces his face next.

“It’s mere courtesy. I assure you I’ve thought of you the entire evening.”

“Just me?”

“Only you. At every hour of the day. Even when we’re apart.” His hand slides down to interlace with yours, and he leans closer to kiss both of your cheeks, one at a time. “I think of nothing else. Si il mio universo.”

“R-Really? So that… That omega who spoke to you—”

“They were kind, but I have no interest.”

You frown, suddenly perturbed. “But you could’ve if you wanted to. We’re not together in that way. There’s nothing stopping you.”

He raises a brow. “Is that what you want?” Your face falls further into dismay and he chuckles. “I don’t mind. You’re allowed to be greedy around me. I’m all yours tonight.”

But I want you forever.

Azul helps you up from the bed and leads you over to the mirror. You stare at yourself—at the you adorned in fleeting finery—and grimace. Is this really you? Is this who you want to be, an unclaimed omega stuck in a stagnant situationship?

“Tell me what you see,” he whispers, running his hands along your sides.

“Myself.”

“Anything else?”

“She’s a fool who’s jealous for no reason. For a dumb reason, actually.”

“‘Dumb’?” He scoffs. “No such thing.”

“But it is! It’s because—” I want to be yours. “I’m just being immature. I’m sorry. It’s ruining the mood.”

“Not at all.” Azul grasps your chin and turns your head towards the mirror. “When I look at you, I see in color. You make my world so indescribably vivid. Very few can accomplish such an impressive feat. You should be proud.”

“Why?”

“You’re a smart girl. I’d have thought you would’ve realized it by now.”

You track his hand like it’s a spider you’re hellbent on catching. Carefully, with keen intent. He speaks in honey-coated hauteur, as if anyone could’ve deciphered the meaning in his declarations, and it would’ve irked you if not for your distracting thoughts. 

He’s never told me any of this before. Is he saying it to placate me? Or does he actually mean it?

The answer is right there. You just don’t want to believe it.

Rather, you can’t. It’s impossible. 

“For the record, I disagree with all of this negative self-talk. You’re not dumb or immature. Not in my eyes.” His arms close around you from behind, and he laces his hands together at your front. “You are a goddess cut from the rarest cloth. A beauty brighter than light itself, mia stellina. Sometimes I wonder if I should lock you in a little cage. That way you’d shine for me. Just me.”

Laughter squeezes through your teeth. “You’re being more dramatic than I am tonight.”

“You think so? I’m only telling you what I see and how I see it.” Azul takes your hand and guides you back towards the loveseat. He lowers onto it and then tugs you onto his lap. Just like before, he directs your attention ahead. “Why should I covet others when you’re right here?”

“That’s just convenient. It’s because we’re using each other.”

“How cold… And I have been nothing but authentic in my adoration.”

“Yeah, right. We both know—” You squeak when he shifts you only slightly so that he can unbuckle his leather belt. It slides away from his waist, soon discarded on the bed. “Sure, it’s authentic, but that’s because it has to be. B-Because it’s part of our deal.”

“Is that what you think? Your oblivious nature is most endearing.” He hums, half-listening. You roll your eyes at that, to which Azul tuts. “We’ll have none of that. Here. Since you’re so keen to argue, why not help me out of my jacket as you mull over your next retort?”

Unamused, you turn to face him. He looks awfully pleased with himself as he stretches his arms out. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you undo the single button and gently peel the coat away from his person. It’s so silky, crafted from a material you’ve never known before, and you take care folding it for later. Azul watches you with a smile.

“I’m not arguing.”

“Is that not what we’re doing right now?”

“I’m just saying…” You huff, your cheeks puffed out in annoyance. “Ugh. You’re being so obtuse.”

“Why don’t you turn around and say that to your reflection instead? She needs to hear it more than I do.”

Begrudgingly, you comply with the first instruction. You lift yourself off of him just enough so that he can pull himself from his clothes. As for that second part, you treat it like a suggestion and keep your lips clamped stubbornly shut. Azul rumbles with laughter, affectionately pinching your cheek. You think he may have picked the habit up from his family. He’s spoken about them scarcely, but from what you’ve learned both his mother and grandmother have always had a knack for physical fondness. It’s cute that this gesture seems to run in his blood.

“Eyes open and ahead, mia bella ragazza. You deserve to witness just how charming you are as you come undone around my cock.”

Nodding mutely, your arousal heady, you line yourself up until the head of his cock is kissing your pussy. One hand holds your waist to steady you while the other presses against your clit. You whine, legs trembling in anticipation, and lower yourself slowly.

“A-Azul—”

“Don’t look anywhere else. Ahead, tesoro,” he reminds you, kissing along your jaw. He reaches to procure his glasses from the bed, fitting them on his face one-handed.

Your body responds to those pleasant pet names without a shred of shame. Even though this isn’t your first time with him, you can’t stop your breath from hitching or your heart from skipping. For the sake of an easily ingested excuse, you deign to blame it on your upcoming heat. Why else would you be this desperate to feel him inside, as close as he can possibly get pressed up against you like this? Azul’s hand slides over your thigh to rub at your clit, and your walls flutter around every inch you’ve managed to take thus far.

You remember you’re meant to be watching yourself in the mirror then, so you gaze at your reflection. Azul’s voice is deep and gravelly in your ear, thrumming like thunder, when he murmurs his praise: “Good girl. Just like that.”

As if to further humiliate you, a testament to just how carnally you crave him, you clench tighter around him and whine pitifully. He chuckles and rewards you with a soothing smooch to your cheek. You heave a satisfied sigh once he’s slotted inside.

“Why do you want me to watch myself?” you ask, fighting through the haze while he busies himself with your clit. “Mmh…” 

At this rate, you fear you might just somersault into your heat. Which, now that you’re considering it, wouldn’t be such a bad thing… Maybe he’ll give you a claiming bite, mark you as his omega, and then it’ll be a real relationship. Maybe the heat is the push he needs.

Don’t think about that sort of nonsense. He would never…

“I want you to take in every part of yourself,” he explains matter-of-factly, “and know that I will never trade you for anything.”

“But other omegas—” The words are choked off in a yelp when he thrusts up inside you. 

“Are not you,” he finishes, a minacious edge in his tone. “What must I do to prove to you that I’m telling the truth?”

“You could—ah. Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m being unreasonable.” You shake your head. “Just… Just promise me. Please promise you won’t get rid of me.”

“Why, I would never! The mere assumption that I would stings… I feel as if I’ve just been slapped.”

“I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just… I… I know you’re allowed to see other people—and I am, too, of course—but I like being the only omega you spoil. I like feeling special.”

“And you are.” He squeezes your clit to draw another reedy moan from you. His other hand crawls up your side to slip under your sheer babydoll. He cradles your breast, kneading it gently. “You’re my special girl. That will never change.”

“O-Okay… I believe you.” Your lashes flutter when his fingers brush against your nipple. “You… Ooh… You can cum inside tonight. It’s safe. I think…”

A shadow passes over his face. As if your words have stoked some sort of possessive fire in him, he slips his hand out from under your lingerie to grab at your hip. All of his previous smooth, sultry edges harden into something rough. Fingernails dig into your flesh, leaving little half-moons in the forceful wake of his grip. Your tongue trips over itself at the sudden shift, but the treatment isn’t terrible.

“You know very well I’d take good care of you if that happened,” he mumbles, kissing the space just below your ear.

“If what happened?” you ask, playing stupidly innocent even though the image reflected back at you makes his implication more than obvious.

“Why don’t you start moving first? Then you’ll see exactly what I mean.”

You shudder, drunk off his pheromones, so potent they cloud your brain like smog, and shift in his lap. He groans lowly at the friction and it encourages you to move with confidence. You lower yourself, lift yourself halfway off, and then lower again. This is executed for three more jerky rotations before you slam yourself down in one go. Azul sucks in a breath. You don’t quite catch what he says. It’s a jumble of words in his native tongue. With the harshness dripping from every syllable, you think he’s saying some colorful words, each one brought on by the tight hold your pussy has on his cock.

“Perfect,” he manages next. You continue to bounce with reckless abandon. “You’re so—oh—so perfect. Ho bisogno di te… B-Bisogno—ah, no, need.”

You watch yourself, your ravenous gaze flicking from your pussy stretched around his cock to his hands glued to your hips to his head bowed near your neck. His canines are so close. Any closer and he could tear into you, bite you hard and deep enough to make you his.

“W-What was that phrase you taught me? The one about—haa—love… Not love, but sorta love.”

“Mmh… Which one? There are many, principessa… You’ll have to be more specific. Ti amo is ‘I love you,’ but that’s—nngh—not the one you’re looking for, is it?”

“The not-quite-love one… Um—oh! Adore… Adoro…”

“Aah, ti adoro.” He pronounces it in a pleased hum before breaking off with another groan. He drags your hips down to meet his when he bucks up into your gummy pussy. “If you’re saying it platonically, you would use ti voglio bene. Ti adoro is more intimate.”

“It sounds pretty when you say it.”

“Of course it does,” he brags, his ego satiated. “Why don’t you try pronouncing it?”

“Which one?”

“Whichever.” Azul kisses your scent glands and you mewl, your thoughts soupy and incoherent. “With such a tempting smell, I’m baffled you’re not yet mated. Ah, but you’re still young.”

“Hmm… Yeah, I just haven’t found the right person.” You place your hands over his. “W-What about you? Why haven’t you—”

He tuts. “Now, now. Before we get into that, I’d like to hear you say it. Ti…”

“Adoro. Ti adoro!”

“That’s right. Ben fatto, mia cara. You say it so sweetly.”

“I do?”

“Mhm.” He noses at your neck and sighs. “Sweet and musical.”

Relishing in the compliment, you tilt your head to reveal more of your throat. You roll your hips slowly, taking him in patient strokes. “I still think it sounds better coming from you.”

“Perhaps I should say it more often.”

“Please. Oh, please do. I wanna hear it always—every day!”

His teeth scrape your skin then. You brace yourself for a bite that never comes. Rather than allow your unmet expectations to dishearten you, you focus your attention ahead.

“I’ll send you a voice message when we’re apart.” His hands travel up your body, beneath lacy lingerie, and finally close around your tits. You watch him in the mirror, following his movements as he shamelessly fondles and gropes. “And when we’re together like this I’ll say it over and over. As many times as you’d like.”

Now it’s clear. He’s placed you on his own pedestal, admiring you like one might a sculpture. You aren’t the omega from dinner. You aren’t those alphas who hunger for his status. You’re unlike any of his other connections. You’re a personal treat he indulges in, a prized portrait he’s free to touch at his own discretion, and you allow it because he’s unofficially yours behind closed doors.

Part of you knew this all along. You just couldn’t see through your self-doubt.

“Thank you. I love—” You catch yourself, stumble over a gasp, and thank the stars for that. “I love your voice.”

Azul’s aged features soften with a smile. “And I love yours all the same. Why don’t you touch yourself so that I can hear more of it?”

You do just that, obediently circling your clit with two fingers. Amidst your own sounds, Azul’s groans, and the loud smack of skin on skin, it’s enough to bring you even closer to the edge. You’re almost there, nearly teetering over into the abyss, but then you stop.

“Wait… I want—wanna look at you.”

“You are. The mirror—”

“Not enough.”

Wordlessly, you peel his hands away and lift yourself off of him. Azul stares at you, awaiting your next move. Before you can regret your spontaneity, you hold onto his shoulders and position yourself to straddle him on the loveseat. 

“I read about this and wanted to try it,” you admit as you sink down. Your relieved sigh joins Azul’s in unison. “I like looking at you. The real you. Not just your reflection.”

“You never cease to amaze me.”

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

With this proximity, you’re free to gaze into his powdery blues, trace every wrinkle beneath your fingers, adore him so intimately. Azul presses his forehead to yours, meeting your sultry stare. He wraps his arms around your waist, his palms settling against your lower back. No words are exchanged, but the intention is clear. You rock your body like the rolling tide, effortless and hypnotic, and he matches your lazy pace with grace. Now you’re breathing together—soft huffs between moans—and it’s a lustful duet that pairs well with the salacious squelch of your bodies.

Even though this moment will inevitably end, you never want to leave. You want to stay wrapped up with him, pressed close and breathing him in like he’s perfume. You want to bathe in his scent until it mixes with yours and marks you as something special. Something irrefutable. A bond that can never be broken.

“I wanna go on a trip,” you mumble absentmindedly, your mouth inches from his.

He steals a quick peck. “Do elaborate.”

“Not just any trip. A honeymoon—like a pretend honeymoon! I know it’s a lot to ask—”

“Nothing is ever too much. If I may, why a honeymoon in particular?”

“I just wanna know what it feels like.” You melt against him, your arms sliding away from his shoulders to loop around his neck. “Without having to go through the marriage part. That involves actually finding someone and falling in love and…yeah.”

“I understand. We can plan something.” Twin sapphires flick from your lips to your eyes and then back. “Shall I make you Signora Ashengrotto for the duration of our faux honeymoon?”

Your hips almost stutter to a halt, and you blink back at him in surprise. “Signora… Wouldn’t it be signorina?”

“If you were unmarried, yes. It applies because you’re young.” He flashes his teeth at you in a proud grin. “But in this scenario you’re all mine, Mrs. Ashengrotto. Thus, you’re signora.”

“Mmh… I like that. The sound of it…”

You sigh dreamily and close what little distance is left. Softly like swaying seagrass, it’s a meeting of mutual moods—of lust embellished with love. The two of you kiss like you’re starved, like you’re each other’s only source of oxygen, like this is your last night together. You’re in the clouds; euphoria is at your fingertips. Every drag of his cock coaxes you closer and closer to your climax, your body alight with a fiery urge. You don’t want to break this sinful spell and face a reality in which he isn’t yours. It’s too cruel.

So it’s a shame when he pulls you down without warning and, rather than bite your neck, sinks his pointed canines into your shoulder instead. You would’ve been content to let him claim you, but that idea is soon knocked from your skull when you feel warm, thick cum flood your walls. You snuff the urge to beg for more, dangerously avaricious. You’re sure that’s just a product of your encroaching heat. The normal, level-headed you wouldn’t dare beg him for a baby. 

But a baby would give him a reason to keep you around, wouldn’t it?

I shouldn’t. He probably doesn’t want a family at his age… It would be wrong to force it.

Azul pulls away only slightly to speak. His attempt is muffled when you kiss him again. You lick your blood from his lower lip. It’s strong and metallic, staining the corner of his mouth a deep vermillion. He pursues, nibbling at your lip in return. And then, just as you roll your hips once more, you feel it—his knot swelling against your ass, fat and thick. All for you.

“I’m going to—”

“Yes! Oh, please—yes.” You shift in his lap, grinding down with a desperate sort of determination. “Please knot me. I want it. I’ve always wanted it.”

“Always?”

Your head bobs in a hasty nod. It was more of a private fantasy—a mental indulgence you delighted in during dreams. And now it’s happening. You’re so happy you could cry. Azul, upon seeing the light in your eyes, bucks up towards you in a sharp, sudden thrust. You suck in a breath through grit teeth and bore down. The push is heavenly and hellish all at once, a delicious pleasure-pained strain as your slick walls stretch to accommodate him.

“Almost… You’re doing well, tesoro,” he grunts, his brows pinched together with concentration and exertion.

To provide you with an extra shred of help, he massages your clit. And that’s all it takes. The rest of his knot pops inside, now connecting the both of you, and it leaves you feeling much fuller than you were before. Ecstasy crashes into you like a tumultuous wave, pulling you into a rushing current. It seems to happen in a flash. Collapsing against him, you dig your nails into his shoulders, your cunt clenching like a vise, and cum around his cock with a bawdy cry.

You don’t notice tears wetting your face until he’s lapping at the trickling trails. Azul coos at you in a lilting voice. This one is different from the patronizing tone he uses when he’s being playful. This one is intensely fond. “Oh, che brava ragazza. Molto buono.” He holds your face still and kisses each cheek. The wet smack of his lips on your skin brings you back to yourself. He brightens when you finally lock eyes with him. “There she is. My sweet girl, you’ve done so well.”

His flowery flattery warms the stone hearth that is your heart.

“Don’t let go of me. Stay here,” you plead even though you know that won’t be for another few minutes. You’re stuck together, and with this comes the delirium of mellowed rapture.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He runs his hand along your back, soothed in the same way you currently are.

You rest your head against his shoulder and inhale deeply. “You smell so good… Why aren’t you mated yet? I’m sure your mate would be happy to have you as their own.”

“I would hope so.”

“I’d be happy…t-to have someone to call my own! I think it’s a wonderful thing.”

“As do I.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone.”

“I already have.” Something sly flickers in his gaze. It’s cold, creeping up your spine like a shadow. Without meaning to, you shiver. “And I’m not going to let her go. She’s always been mine. From the moment I met her, I was certain of this. She just can’t see it yet.”

You blink at him. His words play in loops, but you can’t comprehend his meaning.

Surely he’s not talking about…

You bark out a short laugh. “Stop messing around when we’re stuck together.”

“Aw. I thought it was plenty amusing.”

“Your sense of humor is so crooked!”

“Perhaps.” He pulls you flush against him and pets the bite on your shoulder. “My apologies for being so boorish.”

“Hm? Oh, that’s nothing. It’ll heal.”

“I do hope you feel better.”

“Ah, that… Sorry. I don’t know where my head was at earlier. Thanks for tonight, by the way. You’re too good to me.”

“I’d do anything for you. Never forget that.”

“What a scary sentiment…”

“Is that not a facet of love?”

“Depends. You don’t have to do everything for someone just to prove that you love them. And someone might not want that kind of love…”

“In the event of an unwilling spirit, I suppose the easiest solution is acceptance by way of entrapment.”

“What?”

“They say a room of glittering gold is still a cage even without the shackles. Perhaps there is no better love than the suffocating kind.”

“No way. That’s totally wrong!” You shake your head in amusement. “What a warped sort of love!”

“Is it? I’ve always believed this was most tangible—undeniable, even. Proof of one’s devotion.”

“That’s less romantic and more…obsessive. Don’t you think so?”

“There’s a phrase we sometimes say. Amore non è senza amaro.” You nod along, expecting the translation. But Azul merely smiles. “Well, I’m only saying such things to pass the time. Think nothing of it.”

“You really are an old man, speaking utter nonsense.”

“How you wound me with your slander!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Nonno,” you tease, winking.

Azul feigns hurt. “To think I would be called that at my young, young age… My heart crumbles.”

You smile. Maybe it really was nothing. Although I was sure that he… It’s not really my problem. We’re not even together.

Still, something is nagging at you. A heavy word despite being so little—merely three letters.

Yet.

We’re not even together yet.

Maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

And yet, something tells you it’s not.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul #n/sfw #tw: abo #tw: omegaverse #tw: knotting #tw: age gap

[pinkykats-place]

alpha Bakugo x omega Midoriya Ⅱ

AO3 SFW Recommendations

BakuDeku OmegaVerse

Disclaimers!

None of the stories linked below are mine.

All are SFW but still read tags.

Credit to @shizzyhei for the wonderful art.

Note: if you read any of these stories and like them, please leave a kudos and/or comment for author!

Borrowed Clothes by @silverynight

Summary: "Actually... I... Uhh, would you let me borrow one of your hoodies? I'd like to have an alpha's scent on me during these couple of... Kacchan?"

Finally, Bakugo is looking at him, but he seems like Izuku just punched him in the face; his cheeks are completely red and he's gaping at the omega like he's never seen him before.

It was probably too much; he shouldn't have asked... "I'm sorry! Please forget–"

"Do you like my scent?"

One Shot | UA Students

Rated - Teen & Up

A Nest for the Best by Camellia_Sinensis

Summary: Deku’s been nesting and asking everyone in 1-A for pieces of clothing for his horde. Everyone, that is, except Katsuki. Cue the jealousy.

One Shot | UA Students

Rated - Teen & Up

Worthy by @silverynight

Summary: "Help me sleep... I can't–"

"Sleep," Izuku whispers against his ear and Katsuki's body relaxes completely before falling asleep on the omega's lap.

The uncomfortable silence that follows is what makes Izuku look up, only to realize everyone's staring at him.

"What?"

"How are you two not dating?" Hagakure squeaks.

"I didn't know Bakubro let you command him!" Kirishima grins, looking from the blond to Izuku. "That's so manly!"

One Shot | UA Students

Rated - Teen & Up

A Laboring Exam by Quirkyasfok

Summary: Deku going into labor in the middle of the exam is not what surprised him. They all knew it was going to happen. Deku’s bad luck and ill timing wouldn’t allow for anything else. No, what surprised him is that out of everyone, EVERYONE, he was the only one Deku was allowing to come close.

One Shot | UA Students

Rated - Teen & Up

Storge by FlowerInTheDesert

Summary: “Hold on,” Aizawa states harshly like he couldn’t believe what he was just told “Let me get this straight. You went to Midoriya’s house with Eri and Kouta, because they wanted to meet up with him, but Midoriya is in heat. Then, he called the kids his ‘pups’, pulled them into his bedroom, and now Bakugou won’t let you near the house?”

“Yes” Togata looked up to the building behind him “What should I do?”

Aizawa sighs for the tenth time “I am not paid enough for this.”

Complete | 3 Chapters

Rated - General Audiences

#omegaverse #bakudeku #omega midoriya #sfw #omega deku x alpha bakugo #ao3 fic recs #ao3 bkdk #alpha bakugo x omega midoriya #abo dynamics #mates #sfw bakudeku #nesting #bakudeku fluff #pups eri and kota #deku gives birth #pregnant omega midoriya #bakudeku recommendations #bakugou x midoriya #scenting #pinning bakudeku #bakudeku fic rec #bakudeku fic recs

[wri0thesley]

In an ABO situation, what do you think Thoma’s alignment is?

i am biased in my desire to make all characters i like alphas for sexy reasons. i think thoma is an alpha who passes very well as a beta because he’s so kind and caring, a real caretaker type without the swagger that one expects from alphas - which of course means that darling little omega reader lets down their guard around him and gets pounced on and claimed for their troubles. still waters bubble deep, after all.

#nat.txt #genshin impact posting #not sfw text #a/b/o for ts #abo for ts

[kayte-overmoon]

An excerpt from my Geraskier ABO Pregnancy AU

I'm still working on this fic (it's a big one) but I wanted to give you all SOMETHING, so here's a little (3.5k-word) excerpt to tide you over!

Rating: Mature (no explicit sexual content, but it's fairly suggestive)

Tags: fluff, mild angst, platonic affection, idiots in love, pregnant Jaskier, mpreg, ABO/Omegaverse, canon era

Jaskier is soaking in an Igni-heated bath barely big enough for him to fit in. He doesn’t seem to mind, kicking his feet up over the far edge as he rests his head on the other end. 

“As much as I hate you spending all our money on inns,” he’s saying, eyes closed as Geralt cleans his swords. “I do appreciate a good soak in a man-made basin every now and then.”

“I know you do,” Geralt says, half a smile on his face for a moment before it drops. There’s something on his mind, something that’s been bugging him since the moment he decided to keep Jaskier. 

“Now, now, witcher,” Jaskier tsks. “What’s the frown for this time?”

Geralt sets aside his swords and looks at his companion. Jaskier has twisted his torso to see Geralt better, arms crossed on the side of the basin and chin propped up on them, watching Geralt with wide, amused blue eyes. Geralt no longer bristles at the bard’s nudity—a good thing, because he tends toward heat spells these days, and often the only way to cool down is to strip to the skin. They’ve had a good couple of weeks of work, so his cheeks are full and pinked with the heat from the bath. He could use a shave, but other than that, he looks good.

Geralt looks down at his own hands. “We should talk. About our arrangement.”

“I wasn’t aware we had an arrangement.”

Geralt rolls his eyes, watching the omega smile out of the corner of his eye. “I mean our situation.” He looks up and meets Jaskier’s eye again. “You can’t keep traveling like this, Jask. We need to get you somewhere safe. Comfortable.”

“But I am safe,” Jaskier pouts. “I feel safer with you than I do anywhere else.”

“That’s the problem, little lark,” Geralt says, the endearment spilling from his lips like water. Every time he calls him that, Jaskier’s shoulders relax like Geralt’s taken a great weight off them. He makes it a point to do it as frequently as possible now. “I told you before, the Path is no place for a child. And all that aside, you’re going to keep getting sicker if we don’t let you rest.”

Jaskier waves him off, sinking back into his bath. “You worry too much.”

“No, you don’t worry enough!”

The omega flinches at his tone, glaring at him from the corner of his eye. 

Geralt sighs, looking at him apologetically. “I just mean you should take care, Jaskier. If you’re this ill barely a third of the way into your pregnancy, what do you expect to happen later on?”

“I’m not that ill.”

Geralt scoffs. “You turned down a minced pie today, Jaskier.”

He purses his lips, caught. “Fine. You’re getting rid of me, then?”

Geralt should take it for the opening it is. He knows how dangerous traveling with him is for Jaskier. How much worse will it get when he has a child at his breast? Geralt’s new worst nightmare had quickly become returning from a hunt to find Jaskier taken, hurt, beaten, ripped apart and sold for parts. And besides all that, it was becoming dangerous for Geralt. He’s never been so attached to someone—perhaps Eskel or Vesemir, but they know the dangers of their line of work and can fend for themselves. It’s hard to focus on monster hunting when half his mind is preoccupied with the omega waiting for him back at the inn. 

A distracted witcher is a dead witcher.

“No,” Geralt says, not even surprising himself.

There’s no question. He physically can’t bring himself to let Jaskier go. He’s tried considering it a time or two in the months they’ve been together, and each time, his stomach ties itself in knots.

The omega relaxes in the tub. “Good. Because as much as I love you, Geralt, there are some things even you can do to break my heart.”

His tone is light, teasing, and he doesn’t seem to realize the impact the words have on Geralt.

He’s still reeling from those words (I love you echoing in his mind) when Jaskier finally pulls himself from the bath, dripping wet, pruned, and smelling of chamomile. Perhaps the sight, perhaps the smell, perhaps those words muddle his mind enough for Geralt to blurt out, “Come to Kaer Morhen with me.”

Jaskier blinks up at him from the towel he’d been drying himself with, his hair tufted up on one side from where he’d rubbed it. “Kaer Morhen?”

“The homeplace of the witchers,” Geralt explains. “The wolf witchers, at least. It’s where I grew up. It’s where I—where we go every winter.”

“And you… want me to come with you?”

“Is that… is that alright? For me to ask?”

Jaskier chuckles and comes to where Geralt is sitting at the edge of the bed—there’s only one, since they’re on a strict budget, after all—and insinuates himself between Geralt’s knees. He doesn’t even seem to be aware of his nudity. Geralt decidedly is aware of it. “Dear witcher,” Jaskier says fondly. His hands land on either of Geralt’s shoulders and his scent, warm and happy, surrounds Geralt’s senses. “Never doubt how much your generosity means to me. It sounds lovely, but…”

“But?” Geralt gives into temptation, lets his hands settle in the dip of Jaskier’s hips, his wrists almost brushing the soft skin of his ever-growing belly. Some deep, base instinct makes him want to rub his scent glands over Jaskier’s bump, to claim him and the pup as Geralt’s. He digs his fingers into his bard’s hips to keep from doing that. He hasn’t been given permission. Jaskier has given no indication that he sees Geralt as anything more than a close friend, a platonic person who could protect him and his pup. The last thing Geralt wants is to breach his trust.

Jaskier purrs softly, not seeming to realize he’s doing it. He fiddles with Geralt’s hair. “I feel as if I’m taking advantage of you.”

Geralt snorts. “Trust me, if I didn’t want you here, I would have dumped you before we even left Posada.”

The bard tips his head and smiles and gods above Geralt just wants to pull him into his lap and press his face against his neck where his scent is strongest. Still grinning, Jaskier asks, “Why do you put up with me, witcher? You don’t seem the type to form attachments.”

“I’m not.”

“And yet… here we are.”

Geralt observes him carefully in the candlelight. “Here we are.” He drags his thumb absently across Jaskier’s ribs, watching goosebumps rise in his wake. Jaskier takes a breath at that, pulling himself away from Geralt to continue drying and dressing himself. Geralt mourns the loss of his touch but lets him go.

“So.” Jaskier twists open a jar of sweet-smelling oil he’d been rubbing on his belly of late. I may adore this child with every fiber of my being, Geralt, but that does not mean I wish to have the marks of pregnancy on my youthful form for the rest of eternity. “Kaer Morhen?”

“Mmm.” Geralt picks up his swords again, going about cleaning and sharpening them absently while he watches Jaskier go about his routine. “Vesemir will be there. He’s a healer, of sorts. He could help with the delivery. Or we could bring someone if you like. A midwife of your choosing.”

Jaskier hums back at him, a mannerism he’s beginning to pick up from Geralt without even realizing it. “Vesemir?”

“My… father, I suppose.” At the omega’s inquisitive look, he goes on. “Witchers are born human and come—came, rather—to the keep when they were young. Many were orphans. Some… weren’t.” Jaskier clearly catches on but graciously deigns not to dig in. “Vesemir was one of the teachers before the sacking of Kaer Morhen, when mages destroyed all knowledge of making new witchers and killed all but a handful of us. Vesemir is the oldest living witcher. He took it upon himself to care for the keep and the last few witchers.”

“You speak fondly of him,” Jaskier says. “Are you close?”

Geralt grunts, not in agreement or disagreement. “I suppose. As close as witchers let themselves get. We have a lot in common. All the witchers left do. No one quite understands the life of a witcher more than another witcher.”

“How many of you are there left?”

“Of my school, the wolf witchers”—he thumbs his medallion—“there’s only me, Vesemir, and my brothers Eskel and Lambert. There are several others left from other schools, but we’re not nearly as close.”

“So, this winter,” Jaskier says. “Would it just be us and Vesemir? Or will your brothers be there?”

“Hard to tell,” Geralt shrugs. “We usually don’t know who’s going to show up until they arrive at the keep. The past couple years, Lambert has brought a guest.”

Dark eyebrows rise as Jaskier slips into a clean change of smallclothes. “A guest? Then it won’t be strange if I come?”

Geralt snorts. “No, it will be strange. Lambert’s guest is a witcher from one of the other schools.” He meets Jaskier’s eye. “None of us have ever brought home a human. Not since it’s just been the four of us.”

“Let alone a pregnant omega?” Jaskier snorts. He flicks a wrist, playing at being scandalized. “Imagine what they’ll say, Geralt! They’ll accuse you of stealing my virtue!”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “As if you had any to begin with.”

Jaskier gasps, clutching his chest. “You wound me, darling. I’ll have you know I was the picture of innocence before—well, before this.” The hand at his chest smooths over his stomach as he looks down fondly.

Geralt hums in response, languishing in the omega’s happy scent as he strokes his baby bump. “They’ll know it’s not mine anyway.”

“How so?”

“Witchers are sterile,” Geralt says. He expects the shocked, saddened look Jaskier shoots his way, and waves him off. “I’m not sensitive about it. It’s part of the Trials to become a witcher, and they don’t hide the information from us beforehand. We go in knowing we will either die in the trials or come out the other side an alpha with no ability to breed.”

“Oh.” Jaskier wilts a little, his scent—usually a mix of honey and lilies—dips toward something like sandalwood. “I’m sorry, Geralt.”

“It’s not your fault, Jask.”

“No, I mean.” He throws his chemise over his head and scrambles up onto the bed with Geralt, laying his head on the witcher’s shoulder with no regard for the sword in his hands. Again, that blind trust that makes Geralt wonder what he did to deserve it. “Here I am, running around and making poor life decisions while carrying a pup, and you can’t…”

“Jask.” Geralt nuzzles his hair absently to get his attention. The omega tips his head up to look at him with watery blue eyes. Geralt sets the sword aside—again—and resolves to finish it in the morning. “I told you, I don’t care. Especially not when I get to see how happy you are every day.”

Jaskier squints, mushing his cheek against Geralt’s shoulder, looking every bit like a contented house cat. “I am happy. I feel as if I should be worried or anxious or afraid, but I’m not. I have many regrets in my life, but this is not one of them. I’m glad I have the pup. I’m glad I have my freedom. I’m glad I have you. You’re a dear friend, you know that, Geralt?”

Geralt grunts.

“You are!” Jaskier shoves his arm gently, not even enough to dislodge himself from Geralt’s shoulder. “Not many people would be willing to put up with me, with or without the child. And here you are, not just tolerating me, but taking care of me. Why is that?”

Geralt shrugs with his free shoulder.

“Oh, don’t get silent on me now, Geralt! We’re having a heart-to-heart!”

“Exactly.”

“Ugh!” Jaskier flings himself back on the bed, kneeing Geralt in the thigh as he squirms to get comfortable. Geralt pinches his leg in retaliation, making him giggle. “Fine. Don’t tell me, then. I’ll just assume you are susceptible to my charm and wit. You saw me in Posada and thought, ‘Yes. Now there’s a man I’d let rub chamomile on my lovely bo—‘”

“It was one time, Jask.”

“One very memorable time, on my part.” Jaskier grins, cheeky and lecherous. With a face like that, there’s no wonder he was knocked up before the age of twenty. 

Geralt makes himself end that line of thought the second it arrives. 

Instead of admiring his friend’s fuckability, he grunts. “It’s not too late for me to leave you along the road somewhere.”

“No!” Jaskier wraps his arms around Geralt’s waist from behind, his head knocking against his hip. Geralt twists to accommodate him, letting the bard rest his head in his lap. “I’ll surely shrivel up and die the moment you leave me. You wouldn’t want that on your conscience, would you?”

“I think you overestimate how much you need me. You’d make it just fine on your own.”

The omega tips his head to level an unimpressed look up at him. “When we met, I was getting booed out of taverns and stuffing bread in my pants so I’d have something to eat later.”

Geralt just hums.

Jaskier pokes him in the side. “I’m happy with you, Geralt. It’s a peculiar arrangement, but I couldn’t ask for anything better.”

Geralt watches him for a moment, aware his face was probably too fond at the moment but too content with the omega’s closeness to care. “You pet your stomach when you’re tired, you know that?”

Jaskier looks down. Sure enough, his hand had strayed to the little bump and was smoothing over it. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Winter isn’t for another two months still.”

“Very astute, love.”

Geralt snorts and tugs his hair until Jaskier yelps and bats his hands away. “I mean, I think we should find somewhere safe for you until it’s time to make the trip to Kaer Morhen.”

Jaskier frowns and turns to lay on his back, his head still in Geralt’s lap. The hand that had tugged his hair now smooths it back. “You want to split up?”

“Only for a couple weeks,” Geralt says. “The Path, as I’ve said, is no place for you right now. You’re only going to get more uncomfortable in the coming months, and you need to be somewhere you can rest and relax. It would… I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you or the pup because you’re with me.”

“What do you propose, then?”

“I can put you up somewhere. Somewhere with good weather and plenty of things for you to do. Somewhere you can relax and pick at that lute you’ve barely touched the past few weeks.”

Jaskier frowns. “Fingers were too swollen.”

“The swelling will go down if you rest.” Geralt leans over him to catch his eye. “And as much as I love having you close, knowing you and the pup are safe and healthy, I’d feel better knowing you were somewhere you can get warm baths and hot food whenever you want.”

“How do you propose we do that, hmm? It isn’t as if we have the money.”

Geralt puts a hand on Jaskier’s chest to hold him steady as he reaches over the edge of the bed for his sword. He unclasps the pin there, the one he’d pulled from Renfri’s body as a reminder all those years ago. He holds it out for Jaskier. 

The bard takes it and studies it. “I’ve seen this but didn’t want to ask.” His thumb runs carefully across the clasp. “I figured it was sentimental. It’s fine craftsmanship. I’m sure it would sell for a pretty penny, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“It is,” Geralt says. “I’m not sentimental. The person who gave it to me is long dead. It was more of a… reminder to myself, than anything else. I don’t…” He looks at Jaskier. The bard was now holding the hand Geralt had put on his chest, stroking his wrist softly as he watches Geralt with those wide, innocent eyes. “I don’t think I need it anymore.”

Jaskier’s heart rate spikes for a moment as he turns the pin over in his hand, pink flushing his cheeks. “If you’re sure,” he says. “I don’t want you giving up any more than you already have for me, Geralt. I’ll never be able to repay you for your kindness.”

“I’m not doing this so you’ll pay me back.”

“Then why are you?”

The same question from earlier, just rephrased. Glancing at Jaskier, Geralt knows he did it on purpose. Geralt sighs and takes the pin back, just to give himself something to do. “Because you’re special, Jask.” The bard beams, and Geralt nudges him softly. “Don’t let it go to your head. I’m going to sell this so you don’t freeze or go hungry while I’m gone. I’ll let you pick the town.”

“Oxenfurt,” he says without hesitation.

Geralt frowns. “Why Oxenfurt?”

“I’ve got friends there, at the university,” Jaskier explains. “I know at least one of them will put me up, especially if I pay for food and whatever other expenses I’ll have.”

“How do you know these friends?”

“Stand down, guard dog,” Jaskier chuckles. “We grew up together. Priscilla was from a neighboring family, and we were the same age, so we always sat together at parties. She is kind, and generous, and happily bonded to her alpha, Philippa.” He gives Geralt a significant look and Geralt stops bristling—which he didn’t even realize he was doing. “They’re good friends, Geralt. They’ll ensure I’m looked after while you’re gone.”

Geralt nods, smoothing a hand down Jaskier’s chest. His gaze strays to the little bump on the bard’s belly, where Jaskier is still stroking.

“You want to feel?” the omega offers. “Pup won’t be moving for a couple months, probably, but it’s a fascinating feeling.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier takes his hand and lifts his chemise, letting Geralt finally rest his palm over the little swell beneath his navel. His skin is hot and smooth, little divots where his skin has begun stretching to accommodate the life growing beneath the surface. It’s not big—Geralt’s hand covers the full expanse of it—but it feels significant. If he focuses, he can feel the vibrations of the pup’s heartbeat. His breath leaves him in a rush. 

“What?” Jaskier asks in quiet alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Geralt says. He strokes his hand across Jaskier’s belly gently, soothing him in and taking in the feel. “I can feel their heartbeat.”

“Really?” Jaskier slips his hand under Geralt’s, brows drawing in with the effort of trying. 

Geralt chuckles softly at him. “You won’t be able to. Witcher senses.”

“Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier squeaks. The scent of tears alerts Geralt to his sudden burst of emotion.

“Jaskier?” He shifts around so the bard is no longer on his lap and leans over him, one hand still on his belly and the other on the bed. “Jaskier, what’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

“No, no.” Jaskier gives a shaky laugh and wipes his face with the hand not trapped under Geralt’s. “I’m fine. Just… overwhelmed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He flips his hand over to catch Geralt’s fingers in his. “That was the greatest gift you could give me. Guh.” He gives a mighty, nasty sniff that makes Geralt laugh. “Shut up. Don’t make fun of a poor, pregnant omega.”

“I would never.” Geralt raises their joined hands to his lips before he even realizes what he’s doing and presses a kiss to the omega’s knuckles. Jaskier’s cheeks turn pink and his scent takes a sultry spike that Geralt doesn’t let himself linger on. “So, we’re agreed? Tomorrow we leave for Oxenfurt, where you’ll stay with your friends if they’ll have you. I’ll return for you in two months when it’s time to make the trip up the Blue Mountains. We’ll spend the winter in Kaer Morhen until the pup arrives, then we stay as long as you need to recover.”

Jaskier blinks up at him. “We… you mean you intend to keep me around after the pup arrives?”

“Of course,” Geralt says, though he hadn’t put much thought to it before. All he knew was that there was no way he was willing to part with his omega. 

No, not his omega. Just Jaskier. Jaskier, who happened to be an omega. Jaskier, who was carrying another alpha’s pup. 

Jaskier can’t seem to find words—a rare occurrence for him—so he just pulls Geralt down into a crushing hug. Geralt keeps himself up, afraid to put too much weight on the bard. “Thank you,” Jaskier whispers, a fresh wave of tears spilling from his eyes and smearing all over both of them. “Thank you, thank you.”

#fanfic #the witcher #geraskier #sfw #for once #maybe a bit suggestive though #omegaverse #ABO #omega jaskier #mpreg #pregnant jaskier #alpha geralt #they're in love but they're not ready to admit it #kayte overmoon

[xamaxenta]

Knotnon here w more omegamarco, no idea how much will come through so rip

Ace is insatiable. He's a young, virile alpha with stamina that can keep him going for days. The only way Marco can keep up is by using his abilities. His body is screaming, desperate to be filled up and Ace is rising to the challenge beautifully.

Marco doesn't understand, isn't he too old to feel a heat like this? This is a mating heat, he's sure of it. But he's only just bitten him! He still hasn't bitten back, so the join isn't official. But god, he wants it.

"Say you want me, Omega." Ace whispers, licking the wound on Marco's neck.

"Please! Let me mate you." Marco found the words spilling out of his mouth to a satisfied hum from the alpha.

"Knew you would come around. This pussy is too good, I wasn't gonna let you go, not after you finally let me get a taste." Ace pulls Marco's head up to his neck where Marco's canines sink on instinct.

A shiver runs through him as the alpha takes it, their scents mixing in the air. And then his alpha fucks into him hard. Marco whines and Ace pulls his legs up, folding him in half as Ace's dick hilts into him in long, brutal strokes. He's growling Marco's name as the base of his cock swells again, their mess audibly squelches as he fucks him full of another hot load of his cum.

He's catching on Marco's hole and that's his MATE, his body is on fire-literally as Ace's handprints sear his skin in a pleasure pain that Marco fucking loves, their fire intermingling.

His knot pops and Ace is staring into his eyes as he feels Ace's cock twitch, pulsing liquid into him again and again, his balls contracting. Marco's eyes roll back and Ace grinds that knot even deeper, making his mate cry out to the point of tears.

"That's it baby, take it deep, get pregnant for me, only for me. Keep you stuffed with my cum until that belly starts to swell." Ace is talking absolute filth but he's nuzzling like it's sweet, romantic talk and if that isn't the sexiest thing Marco's ever heard.

"Knock me up, Ace. Please."

Me when i read this

#WOW #n/sfw asks #ye olde naughty anons #opnsfw #marcoace #or rather #acemarco #abo #very nice

[onlyhuis]

maybe i'm in heat or smth bc i am not usually a huge hybrid/abo fan but like... cat hybrid jun purring in his sleep.....

#[💒] — june.txt #this is technically a sfw thought but its too feral for junkissed i think 😭 #ill read abo but its not my most fav in the world yk like regular plain ol smut is just fine too #HOWEVER.... lil kitty cat junnie .... #eating you out & his whiskers tickle ur thighs... #im SO sorry i will see myself out

[omegamusings-writigs]

Unwanted Bond

Masterlist

Posted originally on March 23, 2020 Edited slightly December 22, 2022

Sherrey had never been the one for him, Dwight knew that. He had loved her, of course, as much as an alpha could love an omega that wasn’t his fated mate, but he always knew that she was not the one he was meant to be with.

This became even more clear to him when he first smelled her. The tall, gorgeous, and, unclaimed omega that had been brought into the Sanctuary not long ago. Y/N.

The moment he had seen Y/N, no even before that, the moment he had smelled her, he knew. The warehouse he lived in tended to smell like wet concrete, death, blood, and sweat but the moment she had neared his proximity, he could suddenly smell the baked goods his mother used to make in their kitchen years ago when he was still a pup. 

Dwight had turned around and discovered the source of this scent that felt like home immediately. He had watched her enter the building, hands tied behind her back as she was pushed forward by Simon. Her eyes had met his and for a brief moment, some sort of recognition flashed through them before she turned her head away from him again and pretended to not have seen him in the first place.

Y/N had survived on her own for a very long time. Losing both her parents at a young age and growing up in an orphanage, she had quickly learned to rely on no one but herself. Then she had presented as Omega and spent days on cursing herself and her existence. She didn’t want to be an omega. She had always hoped to be a beta. It was easier to rely only on yourself when your biology wasn’t fighting against exactly that.

She had moved into a rustic setting close to a large forest as soon as she was able to, living of what money she could make off selling her art. When shit hit the fan and the dead started walking, she had been able to stay where she was for a long time before she was forced to leave the comforts of her home and she had managed to survive for years in this new world without major conflicts. 

She met people here and there but she never joined a group and didn’t want to either. There was no reason to do so. So the last thing she expected was to be captured by a group of people that called themselves “The Saviours”. 

At least, she thought that was the last thing she expected. What came even more unexpected was the strange but welcoming smell of the woods outside her house just after it had rained, mixed with the smell of the leather jacket she had worn most of her life but was forced to abandon two years prior while being attacked by the undead.

She made eye contact with a lean blond main whose shoulder-length hair was covering parts of a large scar covering one half of his face. Alpha, something in her thought as she quickly looked away. 

A part of her wanted nothing more in this moment than kick in the legs of the man named Simon who was leading her down the hallway and run towards the mysterious alpha that she had recognised as hers. That part of her wanted to snuggle against that man she didn’t even know the name of and purr happily. She adamantly fought back this part of her. There was no way in hell, that she would show such vulnerability. She didn’t need an alpha and most importantly, she didn’t want one.

Only betas were allowed to interact with prisoners. It was something Negan had established early on, as he wanted to prevent any alpha/omega related problems. This meant, that Dwight didn’t see the omega, his omega for weeks until she suddenly started to have guard shifts. This was the only time he ever saw her. 

Dwight wanted to talk with her, of course, but he knew he shouldn’t. Not just because he somehow still felt like he was betraying Sherrey but also because he knew he was still on Negan’s shitlist. There was no way he would just hand the psychopath with the baseball bat another way to control him. No, Dwight would stay away from Y/N. He would stay away and hope that Negan never, ever found out about the connection the two of them unwillingly shared.

#a/b/o au #alpha!dwight #omega!reader #the walking dead #twd dwight #dwight the walking dead #dwight x reader #alpha dwight x omega reader #sfw #abo dynamics #twd #omegaverse #twd omegaverse #twd x reader

[msfcatlover]

For the Platonic A/B/O verse.

(CW: Steph pretends she & Tim are having/just had sex to make Jack Drake leave them alone. So, like. Um. Vaguely alluded to knotting, I guess. Now there’s a sentence I never thought I’d type.)

--------------------------------------------------

While Tim is convincing Steph to take up the Robin mantle, Tim’s phone rings. He pulls it out and goes pale. “It’s him.”

Steph plucks the phone out of Tim’s hand. Tim squawks in protest, but she just braces one hand against his face, clears her throat, takes a deep breath, and answers it with a voice that is purposefully hoarse & breathless. “Hello?”

There’s a pause on the other end. “You’re not Timothy.”

Steph laughs. “Very observant. Can I ask who’s calling?”

(Tim is still insisting Steph give him the phone, trying to snatch it back.)

“This is his father.”

“Right, right, of course.” Steph pulls the phone away from her ear, glares at Tim, and hisses, “Stop that before you hurt one of us! I’ve got this.” Tim stops out of sheer shock. Steph lifts the phone up to her ear again. “Tim’s a little… indisposed right now. Can I pass on a message?”

Another long pause. “What was your name, again?”

“Stephanie.” She frowns. “Did Tim not tell you about me?”

“Oh, no!” Jack blusters, “he’s mentioned you a lot, I just—listen, Tim’s grounded, he’s supposed to be—“

“Grounded?” Steph pulls the phone away from her ear and asks, “What did you do?” in a voice about x10 as flirty as it is anything else. She brings the phone back up while Tim splutters. “Sorry, Mr. Drake, I didn’t realize he was grounded.”

“It’s fine,” Jack says, “I just need to know when he’ll be home.”

“Uhhhh….” Steph holds the phone away from her face, counts to three, and pulls it back. “Give us about 15 minutes, and I’ll send him right home.”

“Right,” Jack says, somehow even more uncomfortable than Tim. “You do that.” He hangs up.

Steph hands a beet-red Tim his phone back. “And that’s how it’s done!”

“You… I… He…” Tim looks from the phone to Steph, then back again. “We’re not even dating right now?” Tim finally blurts out.

“No,” Steph says, “but he doesn’t know that. And nothing gets family out of your business faster than implying something about your sex life.” She shoves Tim down the hall. “Now go take a shower, so it doesn’t look like I was lying.”

Tim looks at her over his shoulder. “He thinks we’re— I’m probably going to get The Talk again when I get home now, thanks to you!”

Steph grins. “But he’ll never associate me with your hero life, now will he?”

“I might prefer that, actually…”

“Shower, boy blunder, and use the B-soap. The more it looks like you were trying to hide this from him, the more believable it gets.”

(When Tim left, Steph turned around and saw the bag full of Robin gear still sitting at her table. And she’s like, “Well, I’m not going to chase him down to give it back, that’s just embarrassing! I’m sure as hell not going to hand it off to Bruce, those two can work out their own issues. And I really can’t just shove the Robin uniform under my bed and hope to forget about it. So I guess… damn you, Tim Drake, you did this on purpose, didn’t you?”) (Tim did not, in fact, do this on purpose. He wasn’t planning to take the bag home or anything, but he was too busy being absolutely mortified by what was about to happen to remember why he went there in the first place.)

#Platonic abo #Platonic a/b/o #Platonic omegaverse #platonic!abo #Platonic!a/b/o #Platonic!omegaverse #omegaverse #sfw omegaverse #sfw a/b/o #sfw ABO #omegaverse batfamily #ABO batfamily #a/b/o batfamily #batfam #batfamily #bat fam #bat family #tim drake #stephanie brown #omegaverse!tim drake #A/b/o!Batfamily #ABO!batfamily #omegaverse!stephanie brown #Timothy drake #steph brown #robin #the spoiler #robin stephanie brown #robin!stephanie brown #(They’re both alphas; if you haven’t read my original post running down the whole AU. Also b-soap is my own invention; it kills all scents)

[kny-agere]

I’ve said this on my main but heyeyuf I love sfw omegaverse scenarios and I think it’d apply so well to agere/petre like ur just a little babby/puppy/whatever makin a little nest that you get to cuddle w/ all ur packmates in jfjfjbg

and ur cg could scent a stuffie of urs so even when they’re away you can still feel like they’re there ;-;

I have hcs for non-sexual heats where all you want to is be held and protected so ur cg sits and holds you in their lap

guysss i wanna write on sooo bad hehe

#age regression #sfw agere #agere talk #omegaverse #sfw omegaverse #abo #sfw abo

[takami-takami]

YOUR WRITING IS SUCH A TREAT PLEASE I. I'm thinking so so much about alpha keigo now... please i. on my knees begging for more alpha keigo content... anything... please... and thank you for feeding us so well....

Are we talkin' sfw alpha hawks 🥺💞 or .... 😏?

#sfw abo has its grips on my heart but like #what if i were to #ahhhahaha jk jk #unless? #💌 asks

[merakiui]

while in captivity, floyd encounters a human and unintentionally pair-bonds with you during a moment of biological vulnerability.

(cw: gender neutral reader, nsfw, omegaverse/abo, heats, captivity)

The marine lab has recently acquired a unique specimen—unique in that he is half-human and half-fish, hailing from deep, dark, indescribable depths. An eel merman, to be exact. You’ve only ever glimpsed merfolk in outdated textbooks and fairytales, the latter of which depicted them as whimsical beings capable of feats beyond scientific understanding. Magic. Although in the realm of biology, such folly is never entertained and so what the world calls ‘magic’ other fields built upon the foundations of research refer to it as a ‘miracle’. In your eyes those words are interchangeable, but then the idea of a miracle is far easier to digest than the concept of magic.

Merfolk have always been elusive, covert creatures, hence why there is hardly any conclusive data on them. In fact, they’re so secretive that they were believed to be mostly extinct—a figment of dreams and hallucinations. Most of what humans know stems from the tattered notes of long-gone sailors, their presences nearly lost to time itself, and for a while all anyone ever knew were four key details:

They are spread throughout the sea, living out their lives in frigid fathoms. 

They are hypnotic and deceptive. 

They are predatory. 

They rarely interact with humankind unless absolutely necessary (e.g. to hunt or observe).

But with plenty of promising technological advances, some of the theories and myths surrounding merfolk have been bolstered or disproved, respectively. Merfolk are just as diverse as the rest of the animal kingdom. Some live in solitude. Others thrive in groups. Some make their home out of caves and grottos. Some dwell within the labyrinths of volcanic rock formations. It is every marine biologist’s dream to come face to face with one of these mysterious creatures, if only for just a few minutes to glean more information.

That dream is made reality today.

The eel mer was discovered off the coast of a tiny island, entangled in fishing lines and plastic litter. His large, winding body, snake-like in its sleek build, was littered with scars and scrapes. There was a hook lodged up in the folds of his gills. Despite his thrashing, his tail swishing wildly in the sand and nearly knocking down three researchers like they were bowling pins, he was wheezing and gasping, drained of energy and air. When the first bucket of seawater came down upon his dry gills, he settled briefly, wide, crazed, mismatched eyes flicking from face to face. Likely assessing the situation or counting the amount of bodies, the report claimed.

He fell still after that, and it took two teams of ten people to load him onto the lift so he could be flown to the lab.

After he spent a week in recovery, where he healed surprisingly fast, he was transferred to a much larger and wider tank, its depths far deeper than the average swimming pool. He doesn’t swim to the surface much, and he only ever pokes his head out at night, scanning his surroundings with intelligent, keen eyes. And then he turns and disappears below. It’s a pattern he’s stuck to for weeks now. No one really understands it, and they haven’t had the opportunity to try. He’s uncooperative and unpredictable. It’s much too dangerous to send a diver down there.

So they transfer you to his enclosure, assuming you might have more luck. You’re not sure and you can’t make any promises of potential success, as you’ve only ever interacted with marine mammals. A merman is…different. Not only because he’s half-man and, by that same logic, likely possesses a human brain that is capable of a higher level of thought, albeit one that is wired to suit his mer biology, but because he’s bigger. A lot bigger.

He could kill you.

You saw the documentation. The serrated teeth, the powerful claws, the dangerous jaw, the bulky, muscular build that cuts through water like a bullet. He is a predator in every sense of the word, and you’re supposed to look after him. Coax him to the surface. Get him to trust humans. Interact with him just inches from the edge of his tank and hope that he doesn’t get hungry or violent.

He might kill you.

But there are safety measures put in place for these things. Ethics to be followed and whatnot. It’s a slippery slope because he’s part human and therefore could possibly have the same level of intelligence humans have, in which case it would be wrong to trap him here. There may be ways to skirt around it with other animals, but he’s not like other animals.

For now, he’s kept here under the pretense of recovery and scientific study. The lab treats him like the big fish he is, going so far as to buy a shark suit in your size and instruct you to wear it even though you’re not going to get in the water. “It should prevent him from biting through,” they had said, “but it won’t lessen the force of his bite.”

“What good will that do? I can’t fight him off.” Though you knew it had nothing to do with anything, you added, “I’m an omega. Merfolk might not have the same sub-genders as we do up on the surface—or maybe they do; I don’t know—but if he were human he’d definitely classify as an alpha. Put that into perspective. I can’t. Fight. Him. Off. It’s biologically impossible.”

“So you poke his eyes. Dig your fingers into his gills. He should let go of you then.”

“That’ll hurt him,” you protested, clutching the suit to your chest.

“Not as much as he’ll hurt you.”

You suppose it’s a clinical priority. Survival of the fittest, but it’s the human who has to live. The lab could afford to lose you, but they don't want to. And if they did, they might put the mer down. Shoot him up with enough tranquilizers to keep him comatose. Maybe it only bothered you because, yet again, he’s half-human and no one on the team knows the extent to which he thinks and functions.

To simplify it, they consider him a shark. But like any creature, sharks learn and adapt as they go. Death is instinct.

He will kill you.

But you don’t want to think like that, which is why you put on your best smile and trudge into the enclosure he’s being kept in. The tank looms before you, seawater clear and beamed through with streaks of light from the harsh, glaring LEDs above. The deeper the water gets, the darker the shadows. You press your palm against the glass, observing the murky darkness with a frown. Somewhere in this tank, at a depth you can’t even imagine, is an eel merman. A big, strong, powerful, scary eel merman.

You swallow a steadying breath, curl your fingers into fists, and climb the spiral staircase to get to the attached platform. Your reflection follows you with each step, countenance set in grim confliction. Once you reach the top, you peer out at the surface of the pool, listening to the droning hum of water filters and other hidden machinery. There’s a very shallow part of the tank, a dip in the design that allows for the mer to lounge if he so pleases. You’re reminded of the dolphins in live shows, who slide up onto their stomachs to face an awestruck audience. You doubt that’s what he’ll use this ledge for. If anything, it could allow a researcher to kneel in the shallows while they interact with him at an intimate propinquity.

You don’t plan on being that researcher.

Instead, you pace a healthy distance away from the edge, holding a bucket of his breakfast in one hand and a notebook in the other.

“Um!” You cringe at your voice as it reverberates around you in a nervous echo. Cautiously, you inch towards the water. “I have your food!”

You wait three seconds, expecting him to come bursting up from the darkness like the shark everyone wants to delude themselves into thinking he is. The water remains still and unbroken. You wonder if your voice can even reach such a depth. If not the sound, the vibrations might. Or maybe he’s resting. It’s still relatively early in the morning. Perhaps his sleep schedule is thrown off. Yours would be if you were taken from your home and dumped in a manufactured version of your habitat.

You lurch forwards with the bucket and watch as a collection of shrimp, crab, and small fish soar through the air in a sloppy arc before landing and sinking into the waiting depths below. Nothing happens. The tension in your body ebbs away, and when it becomes clear that he isn’t coming up to greet you and feast on your offering you relax completely, collapsing against the wall with a great sigh.

If they really want to study him, they should just watch him on the security feed, you think, peering up at the camera in one corner of the room, its red eye fixated on you and the surrounding enclosure. He’s not going to come up during the day. Not when there are humans walking around.

Still, you wait your shift out, scribbling nonsense in your notebook and occasionally glancing up to gauge the state of the water.

The mer doesn’t show, so you resolve to try again.

Try you do, and try you have. 

It’s been one week of perfunctory routine, arriving and feeding him at the same time in hopes that he might understand what you’re doing and come up to investigate. Or, at the very least, recognize you’re a recurring figure in his chapter of captivity. You don’t intend on befriending him. You only wish to fulfill your duties as a researcher, however skewed they may have become. Even though you know you ought to be grateful the mer hasn’t caused any problems, you want something to happen. Anything! At this rate, you’d sooner tire yourself out playing with rowdy sea lions than sit around in silence while waiting for an appearance from him.

It’s a quiet Tuesday afternoon when the first beat of unrest hits.

The mer’s enclosure is kept at a comfortable temperature for humans; it’s the water that’s freezing below the surface. So when you step up onto the platform and peer into the chum-infested deep, the empty bucket now set aside, you feel warmer than usual. Odd, considering the room is normally so chilly. Not extremely so, but chilly enough to give way to a pleasant cold.

Tugging at the collar of your shark suit, you cover the distance to stand under a large fan situated just near the dip in the pool. Cool air kisses your heated skin, providing you with much-needed relief, and you peer up at the propellers that spin in endless circles. Around and around and around. Your eyes follow the motions until you dizzy yourself, and you step back on wobbly legs. Your foot misses the metal platform and instead slips into the ledge built in the tank. With a startled yelp you fall backwards, landing in the shallows on your rear.

“Of course,” you mumble, bitter with embarrassment. “Leave it to me to fall right into the predator’s tank.”

You scoot further up onto the ledge, staring at the water below. It’s quite calm here, where the shallows lap languidly at your waist. If you were delusional, you might think this was a jacuzzi pool that you could dip your toes in. It’s not. Of course it isn’t. Not when there’s a beast lurking just below. But while you’re here, you run your hands through the saltwater while your own body temperature rises as if it’s a hungry flame in a stone hearth.

You place your hands on either side of the ledge, intending to push yourself up and onto the platform, when something tightens inside of you. Your heart stumbles in your chest and you lose the strength in your arms at once. With a noisy splash, you flop back into the shallows, your compromised body rigid and shaky with a tingling, all-encompassing warmth. Horrified, you raise two fingers to your pulse to feel it stutter wildly beneath your skin.

Swallowing thickly, you lower your head onto your arms and wait for the feeling to pass. The seconds slip by and in that short amount of time your state seems to worsen. Your temperature is volcanic, your every sense restless, and you’re sweating through the shark suit as if you’ve just run a marathon and more.

“Not now,” you hiss, slapping your hands upon your face. “Please not now. Anything but now…”

You intend to haul yourself up and out for good this time, desperate to get as far from the pool before your brain is completely overrun by your encroaching heat and robust omega instincts, when fingers brush against your leg. Something chitters behind you, a low, slow sort of sound that is shot through with curiosity. You turn as if you’re frozen in ice, your heart in your throat and senses on high alert.

The eel mer is right there, clutching your ankle in a firm grip. Not to hurt you, but to keep you there. And you’re not at all in a hurry to leave. Not when those claws are so close to your calf, capable of shredding through to your very bones. Even with the shark suit, you worry. He stares at you with narrowed eyes, his head angled in a cute, childish way. He appears confused and rightfully so, considering you’re a creature he’s likely never interacted with so closely before. You mirror his befuddlement, your brows furrowed, lips creased in a thin line.

For a long while, the two of you watch each other. If you look past his predatory design, he’s quite pretty with his smoky teal coloration and dark stripes. Your gaze pans over to the water, where a long, powerful tail disappears below. The paranoid side of you says he’s going to drown you, but then he doesn’t seem outwardly malicious in his intentions.

“Um…”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, his head snapping up to your throat and then your lips. Your attempt to pull your captive leg back is thwarted when he lurches, rising out of the water to grab hold of your foot. You gasp and shake your head at him, your senses sharp and dull all at once. Your heat-addled mind just barely parses the threat of danger, looming and ever-present.

“Please,” you beg, your tone sticky and breathless. “Don’t…”

The mer tilts his head the other way. The fins where his ears might be if he were human shiver, as if listening to the desperation in your syllables. He chirrups, lips widening in a sharp-toothed smile, and then he’s dragging you towards him. Panic seizes your nerves and you dig your palms into the smooth basin in an effort to get away. His expression falls when he notices your struggle and he lifts himself onto the ledge with you, draping himself over your legs like an oversized rug.

“Wait… H-Hold on; get off!” You grunt and weakly prod at his chest. He doesn’t budge. “You… You’re heavy!”

His webbed hand closes around your waist, steadying you in the shallows, while his other arm cages you beneath him. Instinctively, you arch into his touch, your breath coming in tiny, frenzied huffs. He clicks at you, and words that you can only assume are meant to be gentle and soothing are produced in a sweet melody. It relaxes you more than you’d like to admit, a lyrical balm to your terror.

You squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself for the worst. For the searing pain and the stinging agony. For the blood that will color the water a dark, foreboding red. For the sight of him merrily tearing into your jugular, his maw spattered with crimson. But none of that ever comes. He cradles your face next, his thumb running along your cheekbone, and slowly you peel your eyes open. His face is inches from yours, looking on with an intensity that’s almost primal.

Warily, you lift your arm out of the water and touch his hand. It’s much bigger in contrast to yours, but he’s handling you with such immaculate tenderness.

“You’re not going to hurt me…” you mutter, amazed. “You’re just curious.”

As if responding, he chitters. You nod even though you have no idea what he said. He doesn’t smell like an alpha or an omega or a beta. You’re not even sure if he’s capable of releasing pheromones, but if he were you’re certain it would have driven you much crazier than you already feel.

You hold his stare and reach up to pat his cheek, and he leans into your careful touch. Your hand soon trails down to trace his lateral lines, which earns you a pleased hum. You watch in awe as the gills on either side of his body flutter.

Led on by your own wonder, you follow the pattern to his waist and press your thumbs into his hip bones beneath smooth, slippery skin. “How fascinating… I wonder if it’s possible to take an X-ray. Would you allow—oh!”

Clumsily, he lifts you into his arms to embrace you, rolling his hips against the chainmail shark suit. Your breath hitches, and you fumble to grasp his broad shoulders.

“Ah, w-wait. I’m not… You can’t…”

He clicks thrice and lowers you into the shallows, his face scrunched in annoyance. You think he might’ve understood you, but then he’s palming between your legs and it occurs to you that he wants the suit off. Carnal delight shivers through you at the prospect of being wanted to such a degree, and though you know it’s the heat muddling your sensibility you can’t help indulging him just a little. You undo the zip at the back and slide it from your body, revealing your shoulders and bare arms for his wandering, mismatched hues. He leans in to nose at your scent glands, chattering happily as he inhales. You can’t understand a word, but he sounds pleased—even more so when he runs his hands along your arms, squeezing and petting in equal measure.

His tongue laves across your neck, and what fragile restraint you have left snaps. You cling to him like he’s your anchor, meeting his searching hips halfway with every awkward thrust that doesn’t quite connect as it should. You chew your lip, tamping down a torrent of filthy moans. Your mind is clouded with lust and instinct, and you dig your fingers into his hair, holding him against your neck while he continues to lick and nip.

It feels right up until the haze parts momentarily, allowing temporary sobriety when you spy the tip of something poking free of its encasing. Dazed and inquisitive, you reach between your bodies to prod at his slit, hoping to coax more of his prehensile cock from out of its folds. But then the door below opens and the mer lifts himself from off of you, his head turning in the direction of the sound at an alarming speed. You blink up at him, lazily following his line of sight. His lip curls up in a silent snarl, the beginnings of razored teeth peeking out, and then he slithers back into the water, his hands lingering on your ankles.

Despite the dizziness you sit up, your arm outstretched. “Wait, don’t go!”

I didn’t get to cum yet. You didn’t even claim me either…

He peers at you, neutral for all of a minute before swimming over to you. He presses his face into your palm, chittering softly. There are footsteps on the stairs, and he grits his teeth, withdrawing completely before turning and diving under in a spray of seawater.

You fall back into the shallows, panting like a starved, feral monster. A researcher comes to your aid, her expression equal parts shocked and disturbed. You don’t catch her questions, each one tacked onto what feels like a ceaseless rant, while she helps you to your feet. Something about danger. About heats. About omega biology. About how the researchers watched the both of you on the cameras, swelling with queries of their own.

“I’m not sure,” you mumble as you’re helped down the stairs, stumbling in a heat-drunken stupor. Thankfully, your fellow researcher is an omega like you and that relaxes the hypersensitive part of you—the part that fears being taken advantage of when you’re vulnerable like this. But the needier, greedier part of you wants the mer—wants his hands and mouth all over you, ripping you free from your suit and indulging in the bare skin beneath. “I think he...wanted to help…”

No one can explain his behavior. But it seems promising.

While you’re led from the room, the eel mer stalks you from the gloomy confines of his tank.

In the days following your heat, you return to the marine lab with your head on your shoulders and are immediately barraged with requests. Amongst all of them, one common demand stands out: You have to get him up to the surface again. Part of you doesn’t want to face the mer again. When you truly mulled over that day, tossed the memory of it around in your mind like it was a tennis ball, you were hit with shame.

It’s not…normal. Researchers do not tangle themselves in sexual situations with their subjects, especially when said subject was an eel mer from the Coral Sea. It’s unheard of. Luckily, the team of researchers you work with swears to secrecy. You were out of it and your judgment wasn’t in the best state. That’s the excuse they’re using. It works enough to push the humiliation from your thoughts.

You wonder if you should feel disgusted by the events. Rather, you didn’t mind it. For all of his rough, scarred, monstrous edges, he was gentle.

You press your fingers to your scent glands, recalling the feel of his tongue.

Today you’ve donned your usual work attire, foregoing the shark suit and any other protective gear the lab expects you to wear. Something tells you you won’t need it anymore. Not after everything that happened the day you went into heat.

Feeling rejuvenated and refreshed after your mini break, you trudge up the staircase with a food bucket, determined to finally fill your notebook with data. You’ve only made it up four steps when color flashes in your peripheral. You turn and find the mer is at your eye level, following you up the spiral staircase adjacent to his tank.

You pause and wave experimentally. He watches your hand move to and fro and then he mirrors your actions. He swims the rest of the distance to the surface, breaching it just as you make it onto the platform.

“Good morning, Mister,” you greet, bending down to empty the contents of the bucket into the water.

Disinterested, he watches bits of shrimp sink deeper. And then he looks back to you, his mouth opening and shutting. “Fu… Fu…” he forces out, his face scrunched in concentration.

“Fu…? Food?” 

He nods and then shakes his head, hissing at himself in what you think might be admonishment. 

“Fu…ro…”

“Furo?” You set the bucket aside and scoot closer to the edge. “What’s that?”

He tries once more before the syllables fizzle out on his tongue and, with a few frustrated clicks, he swipes a fish from the surface and stuffs it in his mouth. You giggle, and the sound has him tilting his head. Without a shred of apprehension, he meets you at the ledge. You watch him munch on the fish between his lips, content to observe in silence. He polishes it off rather quickly before procuring a handful, which he dumps onto the ground beside you. You shake your head at him, smiling weakly.

“Thanks, but no. It’s all yours.”

The mer shrugs and indulges without you.

“I should thank you for not hurting me back then,” you add. He pays close attention to your lips; you think he might be attempting to read them while listening. “Um… But don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not sure if merfolk are like humans, but we have this system… Or not a system… It’s more like…groupings? Secondary classifications?” You frown. How can you explain the complexities of sub-genders to a mer who doesn’t even speak your language? “Basically, I was in trouble and you helped me out. Kind of. In any case, thank you.”

He stares at you for a while, chewing and swallowing. You think he might swim back under once he’s finished, but instead he places his hands on the ledge and hoists himself up on his arms. He’s in your face next, all eager smiles and chitters.

“Fu… Furo. Furo…ido. Furoido,” he sounds out.

You read his lips in the best way you can before it finally clicks. “Ah! Floyd, right? Is that…your name?”

Floyd points to himself, makes a few upbeat clicks, and then nods. He’s pointing at you next.

“And me? Oh, my name is (Name).” You take your time sounding it out for him, and he repeats it with an awkward tongue. You smile and nod encouragingly. “That’s it. That’s me.”

He flops back into the water with a celebratory trill, a wild smile tugging at his lips. You watch him swim laps from you to the opposite end of the pool and back. Ditching the shark suit was the right call. You’re no longer uncertain. This time, you know for a fact that you’re going to be getting along very well with him.

And you look forward to fostering this flowering friendship.

#meraki mumbles #fluffy floyd hours #n/sfw #tw: abo #tw: omegaverse #he's so cute >w< i love floyb orz #okay now it's back to tmdg!!! #jade is going to kill me for writing about his twin when i should be writing him ;;;;

[ace-the-fox]

Me having several mpreg related OCs and realising three common themes: trans mpreg, cis mpreg and a secret third thing (pregnant-coded cis guys).

#mpreg #shitpost #ocs #original characters #to clarify one guy summons a demon #but he also raises it and it becomes a weird metaphor for maternity #yk the same way frankenstein is but he's not a deadbeat lol /hj #and the other one is just delulu and thinks he's having the second coming of christ :) #also i cannot stress enough that by cis mpreg i do not mean unexplained abo mpreg #it's usually some supernatural plot #or for karma against a misogynist #i would elaborate even further on all of them but I'd probably hit the tag limit #so... pls ask ANYTHING if you're curious lol #also my mpreg is strictly sfw just to put out there

[trashytoastboi]

ooh, I'm in the mood for some tasty angst, yes ma'am/sir/mx! can I request an angsty scenario (for the 1,000 follower event, of course!) with the prompt #3 and the overall theme of a love that was returned but not meant to be? Is it alright to continue this in another post too if needed be since my request is a bit specific and the word limit is there? Anyway, it has a male alpha reader and beta Aizawa in love with one another and sharing acknowledged feelings for one another (cont. in next ask)

Heyya! 🍞🍀 sure thing! Sorry its been such a long wait, hope you enjoy~

(Male Pronouns)

1000 Follower Event!

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Scenario: ABO AU! Male! Alpha! Reader x Beta! Aizawa - #3. Arranged marriage/bonding.

“I was bawling, In some things you just can't help from falling. And all of your wisdom only makes me feel like I...I don't deserve the freedom. To love with my own heart. To care for another more than myself. To love with my own heart. To care for another more than myself. The love that we stole.” - Love That We Stole by Bears Den

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Word count: 4,096 words

☕Aizawa Shota☕

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{Name} paused outside the restaurant. Taking a quick once over to make sure his hair and outfit were in tip top shape for his date. He stepped into the restaurant looking at the interior. The warmth from the heaters and the smell of delicious dishes that drifted from the kitchens were enticing. {Name} stopped to speak to the host, confirming the table that had been reserved under his name. Being led to the prepared table with a wonderful view, a little closer to the back and further from the other tables. It was the same table from the first date they had. Something closer to a fond memory that he hoped to share with his partner. {Name} settled at the table, looking around to count all the things that had changed since the last time they had been there together. {Name} arrived a little earlier than the initial meeting time, mostly to make sure everything could be as good as it could get. His face lightened up with a bright smile when he saw Aizawa stepping into the entrance of the restaurant. {Name} felt tempted to stand up and wave at his partner to catch his attention, however opted to smile, stand and pull the chair out for Aizawa. Aizawa greeted {Name}, an evident spark in his tired eyes at the sight of him. {Name} pushes the seat back to the table, and Aizawa couldn’t help himself from feeling bashful over his actions. {Name} thus far had been the only one who went so far for Aizawa and truly kept a very gentlemanly demeanor towards his partner. Aizawa felt spoiled and appreciative for this, never before had he been treated with such endearment and affection. No matter how long they had been in the relationship; the gentle affections and kindness that radiated from the overflowing love {Name} has for him always catches Aizawa off guard.

After a breath and stutter on the conversation, an adjustment to the atmosphere and a moment to fully settle in. The two finally find their pace and exchange some light greetings, albeit a bit awkward but the conversation flows naturally and without pause. Aizawa takes a look around the interior, seemingly counting all the things that differed from the last time. A very similar action to what {Name} had done as soon as he arrived. {Name} silently watched Aizawa with a content expression, following his eyes and trying to discern his thoughts. Even without realizing it, {Name} beamed with happiness just by being in Aizawa's company.

“Do you remember our first date?” Aizawa inquired, turning his attention back to {Name} and disrupting his little happy bubble. {Name} chuckled, “How could I forget?” he paused, took a sip of his drink and fondly reminisces through his thoughts. “I kept asking you to go out with me every single time I saw you. Although, you always refused until one day you finally said yes.” {Name} shook his head as if to think of the occasion and his actions of his youth as a little silly when he thought of his sheer persistence. “You act as if it was ages ago. Its only been three years.” Aizawa chirped. {Name} raised an eyebrow, “Only” he mused. Aizawa cleared his throat “If I’ll give you points for anything, it's for tenacity.”

“I admit, I was a bit adamant. Though can you blame me? Someone as amazing you just wandering into my life and suddenly I experienced something like love at first sight.” {Name} adverted his eyes and felt himself growing shy from his words especially when seeing Aizawa with that self satisfactory smile. “I was so happy I really thought my heart would burst then and there.”

The conversation halts while the two run through the memories of the time. Thinking back to what they were doing, what did they say? How did they feel? How did they survive those few too many awkward encounters.

“Still, I remember worrying about how I would dress that day. You know how surprised I was when you showed up in a suit and with a bouquet?” Aizawa gestured, exaggerating just how big the bouquet really was. “What can I say? I wanted to woo you the right way.” {Name} rubbed the back of his neck, paired with a slight nervous chuckle. “Your awkward charm definitely did the trick.”

Conversation followed a strange pattern of reminiscing, most likely due to the location. After sharing dinner and unintentional participation in the quiz night neither of them planned for. {Name} and Aizawa came out with the third place prize and got a round of drinks on the house. After paying and leading the way, {Name} walks ahead to open the door for Aizawa as he steps through and reciprocated by holding the door for {Name}. The two take a leisurely walk down the stretch of road that leads to the park. Their hands entwined and warm while the peaceful stroll helps the food from their meal settle.

Aizawa looked at the hand that held his own. His brow creased in thought. It is an unfortunate truth, seeing that their relationship did not have to be completely hidden…However, the possibility of being able to be completely open about it was not something the two could take lightly. And thanks to the countless years of society setting up the margin and standard of what rules could dictate society under the prevalent guise of ‘normality.’ Resulted in a standard and norm even towards relationships. Betas and betas; alphas and omegas. Simple as that, nothing more and nothing less was allowed outside of that box. Taking a step from normality made a person a deviant, or strange in general consensus. Take a step further and the topic in question was deemed as taboo and thus gave it the highest shame society could possibly attach to a matter.

Being one of those who broke the taboo were treated as outcasts who had broken the worst law possible. Of course, there was no such law in legal terms that bound people to this manner of thinking. It was simply conditioned into them. And following these rules, leads to the silent stress that burnt at the back of their minds. {Name} and Aizawa were nurturing that so called “forbidden" love. {Name} being an alpha, and thanks to his family he could even be considered one of the elite; and Aizawa, a beta. Social class aside as if to make the situation more dramatic than it already had been, the two were breaking the taboo of relationships between betas and alphas. Thankfully those close to Aizawa were open to change and progression, seeing him in love with an alpha wasn’t gossiped about. Nor made a topic of public disagreement, but rather everyone had only wished him the best.

{Name’s} situation, sadly was not so fortunate. His family strictly upheld these “laws", to reiterate on his family being one of the elite families of society means they had used their influence to play a big part in shaping this mindset. Protecting what they believed to be natural and normal. On the outside many might have not seen this as the case. {Name's} family, along with the other age old high alpha families abolished the idea of an individuals secondary gender dictating ones social class. This gave rise to equal opportunity for betas and omegas alike to rise in the ranks of society and participate in the upper sections. For all intents and purposes this became a great course of action, as to why they strictly banished the thought of other forms of progression was unknown. {Name} could only speculate and put it down to selfishness and convenience. After all, an elite family supposedly grows stronger with the next promising generation. And he grimaced at the thought that his life was dictated by the matter of acting like a breeding bull to ensure an heir to continue the family.

Such as the elite alpha families who proudly produced generation after generation of good alphas. Were joined by elite omega families who seemed to have the same phenomenon. Because of this, marriages were often arranged and agreed upon between these families for omegas and alphas. As well as the beta families who would have marriage between the majority of high and middle class beta families.

The date had ended after spending some time together in the park. Aizawa had mentioned having papers to grade and {Name} did not want to keep him out longer than necessary. Knowing Aizawa, had they spent a much longer time out together he might have had to stay up the whole night to finish his workload. He sent Aizawa off with a peaceful smile, he seemed to always be smiling around him. Even Aizawa had noticed it. It was rare to see {Name} without a smile whenever they were around each other. {Name} watched as Aizawa left, sticking his hand into his pocket and feeling the object he concealed so carefully. “Looks like I couldn’t ask him today either…”

{Name} arrived home, leaving his shoes at the door and smiling. Feeling rather elated from the date he just had, he was quickly made aware of an uncharacteristically cold feeling in the house. An underlying tension that seemed to swallow him up the moment he walked in.

{Name} got called to a family meeting. Usually families meetings did not occur unless there was big news or a matter that needed discussion, or in this case… intervention. {Name} visibly looked surprised to see many empty seats, for a family meeting it felt scarce. The only ones present were his parents, and himself. Cautiously trying to get a read of the room, he stepped in and took the free seat directly across from his parents. His father had an otherwise smile on his face. It was not evil, nor cold but felt very out of place to the mood of the room. His father slid something across the table for him, two folders with unknown contents and {Name} who felt reluctant to pick them up, looked at them with a questioning expression. He slowly reached his hand out to the and the first file held a photograph of a dainty and sweet looking lady. The next few pages were information like a printed dating profile, explaining her name and age. Her hobbies, talents and aspirations. Most importantly the information it had listed her secondary gender as “Omega.” {Name} smiled bitterly at the folder, and misunderstand the reason behind the smile his mother quickly chirped “There is a second folder my dear.”

He didn’t know if he was expecting anything else, the second folder held another photo. This time of a very beautiful man, the folder had a layout like the first. Name, age, hobbies, talents, aspirations and secondary gender listed as “Omega.”

{Name} felt perplexed. Perhaps that was the wrong way to explain it, he knew. He knew exactly what the situation entailed and still hoped that by playing the fool he would not have to face it.

“Those are your fiancé candidates. We promised a reply by the end of the week so you have more than enough time to decide which one you like better. Take your time and read carefully.” His mother explained in such a honeyed voice, there was not a single trace of malevolence in it. But her intentions still hurt.

“F-Fiance?” {Name} stammered, trying to calm down. “Your mother and I met them both. They’re quite lovely omegas. We think that their temperaments suit you quite well. No matter who you choose, we think you’ll get along.” {Name} tried to mull over their words, trying to figure out his next sentence. Maybe they didn’t know? Would they be understanding? Would the situation be different if he explained that he is in love with someone already? “I…can’t get married. I’m in a relationship.” he explained calmly wanting to shout but kept his head and tried to further the discussion. “That beta?” the offhand comment from his mother surprised {Name}, even more so with the present hint of disdain in her expression and voice. “We know. However you’ll be engaged by the end of the week, so break things off with him properly. If you still can’t decide on a fiance, we will do it for you.” {Name} could not believe it, so much for discussion. The cold and firm way his father delivered his words made him realize that discussion was not possible. “You’re the ones who decided this marriage without my consent! Why should I have to break off my relationship?!” {Name} raised his voice, evidently surprising his parents. “Dear, are we not here trying to get your consent for who you will marry?” {Name} felt as if he were speaking to a wall when his parents made a decision. The underlying message o their words and expression seemed to tell him to stop acting like a child. “If it gets out that you are dating a beta, you will be fine. But will he be fine in the fallout? Is he not a public figure? Reputation matters a lot to people like that.” His father spoke calmly, unfazed by the fact that {Name} raised his voice.

{Name} almost choked on his words “Are you really going to do this?” on the surface it may have seemed as if his father were giving him sound advice. The truth remained that embedded in those cold words of advice was an underlying threat. His parents show no need to get angry. They already know what the outcome will be. {Name} sighs, standing up and retrieves his shoes before slamming the door harshly as he leaves. His hands shake from rage with no way to express it. Was it truly only rage? No matter how much he wanted to deny it, fear seemed to be outweighing his anger. {Name} picked up the phone, with a moment of hesitance before he calls Aizawa. Even though they had seen each other earlier in the evening, the entire mood from then had shifted. Aizawa picked up the phone when he saw the name. The moment he heard {Name's} voice, the shaking and straining in the few words that he struggled to get out. {Name} was upset, more than he had ever heard before. Aizawa could tell {Name} was dancing around what he wanted to ask, and took the initiative to invite him over. {Name} truthfully was already heading to Aizawa, the trip dragged on while he stalled and tried to calm his heart as much as he could. There were too many thoughts he could not articulate, too many thoughts that created a mess in his head that he couldn’t organize. Is there any way in this mess he and Aizawa could find the happy outcome?

{Name} knocked onto he door softly, it opened quickly to reveal Aizawa who must have been waiting. Despite keeping a calm expression, {Name} could see it on his face, Aizawa looked worried. He cranks out a weak smile to try and ease Aizawa's worries. Aizawa invited {Name} in, closing the door behind him and quickly pulled {Name} into a hug. “What’s wrong?”

{Name} sighed again, he wished to bide his time and try to avoid answering for as long as possible. He knew that its not a topic that can be avoided. Aizawa guides {Name} over and they take a seat. {Name} carries a sad smile, honesty will be the best approach. Half truths will only lead to a more painful conclusion. “My parents…Arranged my engagement. I’ll have a fiancé by the end of the week regardless of my choice.” When the words left this mouth, {Name} almost felt the bitter irony of wanting to laugh at the matter as if it were a bad joke. Aizawa however, remained silent. His expression unchanged but felt the heavy feeling that stirred in his chest. “I told them to break it off because I’m already with someone…” Aizawa placed his hand over {Name's} hand to comfort him and also brace himself for what {Name} was about to say. “They already knew about you…” {Name} finished what he had been saying, the shaking of his hands seemed to already indicate to Aizawa that it was not a fond conversation. He could infer from {Name's} attitude that his family wasn’t happy about them being together.

“I tried to tell them that I wouldn’t marry anyone else. They brought us up and mentioned if our relationship came out…it could really affect your reputation and work. How could they stoop so low? I got so angry and just-"

Aizawa couldn’t confirm nor deny what his family claimed would be the end result of announcing their relationship. It was certain many would look down on it. {Name} looked frustrated, an uncharacteristic look to see on him. This truly is a tough position to be caught in. {Name} truly loves his family, and this is the first time that they had ever been so obstinate about any situation. Their firmness might have stemmed from the resolve to try give their son what was best, and turn him away from a difficult path. The truth of the matter remained, if {Name} stayed with Aizawa, then he would face countless judgements, insecurities and difficulties. There was no such thing as walking the flowery path. Aizawa considered the possibility, maybe they were the ones who were actually right in their desire to protect {Name} against difficulties in their own way. Aizawa could not offer any comforting words when his thoughts offered no comfort to himself. In spite of hoping to be with {Name}, having a typical happily ever after even if it were not as picturesque… he still thought it were a possibility. There was no easy way, no road that led them to the storybook happily ever after… and no path without strife.

In this situation, no matter what {Name} chose - he is going to lose something. Aizawa had settled into his life, although he could pick up his roots and leave anytime he felt would be good. Running away and eloping, certainly a dramatic solution to come to, but it presented possibility. However {Name} was different from him, {Name} truly loved his family and being able to say goodbye in such a manner. Even if it would not be forever, but {Name} could not bring himself to do that. And in doing so, he will lose Aizawa, is what Aizawa's thoughts had convinced him of.

Aizawa stared at the floor all the while lost in his head. {Name} seemed able to read the thoughts that his partner was running through. {Name} conjured a little smile, seeing how worry Aizawa is for his sake. Aizawa's internal questions were interrupted by feeling {Name's} hand placing something into his. The moment he laid eyes on the box, he knew exactly what lay inside. Aizawa realized that he truly underestimated just how much {Name} loves him. {Name} held Aizawa's hand, leading it to his mouth and kisses it softly. “I only ever wanted to marry the one I really love.” As soon as the words left his mouth, the frustration that had no escape, came out in the form of tears. Aizawa hated to see him in such a state, he seemed so conflicted and torn by everything. He knew that if he accepted the ring, {Name} would give up so much to be with him. Somehow, Aizawa could not bring himself to do that to {Name}. He chose not to open the box, seeing it would have shaken his heart and swayed him from the decision he had just made. Imagining {Name} smiling and pacing up and down the store, looking at every display case and carefully considering which ring he would give to Aizawa. Indeed, a lovely thought. One that now turned painful when this is the outcome. Aizawa gently, reluctantly placed the box back into {Name's} hand. “I’m…I’m sorry" he stated sadly unable to conjure any other words.

{Name} nodded his head, he knew his words would not change Aizawa's mind. The decision was made, {Name} felt drained. His sole reason for fighting against everything and everyone had ended. There was no longer a reason to fight. He could resign himself to whatever outcome quietly.

Aizawa comforted him, held him and yet not a single word was uttered between the two. {Name} placed his hand on Aizawa's face, and kissed him. This kiss had been different from every one they shared before, they both knew the reason for it. Instead of the lingering warmth that would usually bring a hint of shyness, turned cold quickly when its meaning was one of goodbye. {Name} smiled, an odd expression on his face that couldn’t be deciphered between exhaustion or sadness.

The moment {Name} left, Aizawa was the one to fall into frustration. Hitting the wall and cursing silently. Even with the surge of tears pricking his eyes. He wasn’t as transparent and honest with the more complex feelings he would experience. Unlike {Name} he refused to let himself cry or find comfort, his eyes traveled to where they had been sitting together moments earlier. He noticed the box on the table…clearly intentional that it had been left there. After all, the ring was intended for Aizawa anyway. Whether he kept it, threw it away, kept it out of sight or wore it was all up to him.

{Name} returned home, depressed and with no energy to argue about anything. He simply nodded his head, and got dragged around by everyone else over the arranged marriage endeavor. For a person known for their bright personality, and ever present smile…many seemed to doubt if the accounts of {Name} were really true. Even his fiancé had been intimidated by his stern and cold expression. {Name} barely spoke beyond one or two words and never showed a hint of a smile, nor happiness towards anything.

Months, maybe even more accurately to say a little over a year had passed. Aizawa fiddled with the ring on his finger, sitting in the teachers room and originally planned to nap but the news reached him. The students and even some staff had been talking about some very popular wedding. Aizawa didn’t care much for tabloids and gossip, though this could be an exception. The glimpse he caught of the cover of the magazine he saw another teacher reading really caught his attention. The cover held a picture, and a headline announcing the marriage between some of the elite alpha and omegas families. The photo had {Name} and the omega in question. Poised, dignified and distant is the feeling he got from the image of {Name}. The stern expression he held, without a single ounce of happiness. Every photo that was presented in those glossy pages seemed to show the same {Name} who seemed annoyed to be there, if not stern or annoyed then his photos made him look tired and disinterested. Aizawa looked at the image as if he had been looking at a stranger, a stranger with very foreign expressions. The omega happily smiled at his side in every photo and everyone seemed genuinely happy for the couple.

Aizawa tossed the magazine down, and felt conflicted more than upset. Or perhaps they were on equal lengths to the mess of emotions that he felt in this moment and the unpleasant bitterness it left. Its been more than a year since the last time they saw each other, or even spoke to one another. Aizawa believed it would be easier to forget if he did not remain a lingering presence in {Name's} life, and so they decided to cut all ties. Something seemed to tell Aizawa that was not what {Name} wanted. But it was for the best, or so he thought. Finally knowing how {Name} is doing, and seeing a stranger in his place left Aizawa with the onslaught of questions. Did he really make the right choice? {Name} looked miserable, and Aizawa felt miserable. Was his decision really the only one that he could have made in that moment? Could there have been a different outcome, one where everyone would have been happy? Did they not fight hard enough to find the alternative route? – No, that was a mistake. {Name} had fought…and continued fighting even then. “If I didn’t act like a coward would things have been different?”

“Did I really take the easy way out?” A question he asked himself over and over again. A question that would remain unanswered.

"You'll be loved, you'll be loved. Like you never have known and the memories of me will seem more like bad dreams. Just a series of blurs. Like I never occurred. Some day, you will be loved. - Someday You Will Be Loved by Death Cab for Cutie

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