Hi, Anon! To me, writing an Omegaverse scenario requires a fair bit of exposition and background, so I'm working on a rather large entry for you. I really hope you'll enjoy this fill! It's gonna be fairly long when I'm through with telling this story. Thanks for the cool ABO prompt, it's been awesome coming up with the details for this one.
[1/?]
Craig could safely say presenting as an alpha had been one of the most irritating things he’d ever endured. It wasn’t necessarily that he disliked his secondary sex traits. On the contrary, he felt grateful for a handful of the perks. He was often regarded with a certain unspoken respect, most people would give him a wide berth of personal space out of either reverence or intimidation, and best of all he knew that no matter how unsocial or unpleasant he behaved in public it would be written off as a feature of his secondary sex rather than a failing of his personality.
That’s not to say being an alpha was all good things, however. On the contrary, it’s often a hindrance. With the aforementioned reverence comes a certain level of societal expectation Craig doesn’t prefer shouldering. He’s expected to “do better” and “be better” for the benefit of “the lesser sexes.” It’s assumed that one day he’ll be a loving provider or some sort of outspoken leader and live up to ideals others have set for him. He hates that. He’s not exactly a self-assured person, and he’d rather just be some no-name guy.
But that’s not even the worst of things. Because of course, it’s not. When Craig was young, he’d always quietly hoped he’d present as a beta. It’d seemed like the easiest path. It was very middle-of-the-road and he could surely blend into the backdrop. Back then, he’d been less confident. That’s not to say that he’s particularly confident now; rather, it’s more a testament to exactly how unsure of himself he’d been then.
Middle school had dealt with the embarrassing details of primary sexual education and put Craig and his classmates in the uncomfortable situation of listening to adult instructors stand up in front of the class and give graphic descriptions of their bodies and the changes that would happen to them. And then in high school, that very situation repeated itself with their secondary sexual education but in a much worse way. The instructor took a much more stern attitude, describing with the utmost urgency the importance of their impending presentations and how they would shape their lives going forward.
Craig waxed and waned between complacency and indifference at first (because honestly, what choice did he have), but in time he began to present unmistakably as an alpha. He grew taller than his classmates, and even though he took what could be described as a cavalier attitude towards physical fitness, he grew much stronger than most of his classmates, too. His senses became keener, and he became increasingly accustomed to the routine inconvenience of all-consuming, unquenchable lust.
He never had to look very far for a potential mate, though. Either someone would approach him (undoubtedly lured by the carelessly unmasked scent of his powerful pheromones), or he’d sniff around and quickly find some desperate omega or even a curious beta. There were ways to prevent an alpha from going into a routine rut, of course. Craig never much cared for them honestly, and the idea of having to schedule regular doctor’s appointments to prescribe him bottles and bottles of pills that would stifle his nature in exchange for unpleasant headaches and bodily dysfunction was never really a barter he wanted to make.
The common belief came as a somewhat conservative notion– finding a mate should be a special and reverent act. Craig never bought into that, either. Finding a mate was a constant yet temporary solution to a natural state of things. He, as an alpha, would go into a rut. Some random beta or omega would sense this and they would act on their mutual desire, relieve the craving, and then they’d part ways. Some people found this approach trashy, but for Craig, this was just simply the state of things.
In time, Craig had come to more or less settle down with one particular omega. He uses that term very lightly– she always seemed to sync up with his cycles and would often give him those pleading eyes. It was in all honestly an arrangement of convenience. But still, it was routine and she didn’t impede much on his daily life, generally speaking. They’d take care of their business in a way Craig overall preferred. Which is to say, it was routine, down to a concise and predictable pattern, and not very exciting.
Nothing about their increasingly customary habits has ever had an undertone of passion or romance. Craig views it sort of in the same way he views a chore or an errand or even just picking his nose. It’s something that needs to be done, so he does it. They don’t discuss much outside of their methodical meetups, and they don’t put much effort into any sort of pretense of what exactly they’re doing together. In fact, Craig isn’t even really sure of her name. He thinks it might be Annie, but at this point, he’s been fucking her pretty regularly, and even though there’s very little passion in the act, he’s much too embarrassed to ask her what her name is.
It’s only been about half an hour or so since he last saw her, actually. When her heat is approaching, she typically goes about things in the same way each time. She finds him where he frequently sits alone in the co-ed dormitory’s dining hall and quietly perches on the other side of his table. She gives him sidelong glances and twirls a finger through her wild, flaxen locks of hair.
And, as usual, at first, he feels nothing. He has no opinions on her appearance and he holds no emotion in his heart that might make him feel some kind of attachment to her. But he knows she’ll persist, and he also knows that given enough exposure to the way she blatantly and flagrantly propositions herself to him, something within him will activate. Ultimately, he likes it this way. This meaningless monthly ritual of twenty minutes of silent-but-effective, straightforward “foreplay” followed by ten minutes maximum of mostly clothed and meaningless sex is a far better situation to have landed himself in than the alternative of tedious suppression tactics or waiting for an organic rut to occur and then coping with the intensity and aggravation of it.
Today, however, Craig feels differently. Today maybe-Annie demanded too much and made some serious presumptions of him that rubbed him the wrong way. She threw around words and phrasing that she had no business taking so lightly or so impertinently. With a dainty finger in her voluminous blonde curls, she tossed around the idea that she considered herself his girlfriend. Craig had only snorted in response. Well, that was nothing short of trite. Where she had gotten that notion, he hadn’t the slightest clue. Craig had never asked her to be his mate and had never made any indication that he had any interest in her whatsoever beyond the unambiguously direct desire to relieve himself of his rut and the simplicity that she provided to that end. The closest things they’ve had to dates are the brief public meetups they share in the cafeteria. He’s never asked her a single question about herself and he’s never seen her body undressed. Hell, he doesn’t even know her name. There are only three things Craig knows about this girl at all– she has pretty blonde hair, she smells good, and they are a good physical match in a strictly biological way.
If in some way this girl thinks these things constitute the grounds for a decent partnership going forward, Craig almost feels sorry for her. The operative word here, of course, is almost; he truly can’t express how little attachment he feels towards the situation beyond the convenience of the arrangement. He feels a very numb sort of disgust towards the concept and as such, ended up wordlessly leaving her alone at the table. The whole idea of her claiming words that had no business in her mouth painted her in a new sort of desperate and pathetic light that he just couldn’t stomach. These are descriptors that he, as an alpha, would generally find a twisted sort of alluring. But in this context? Craig just couldn’t continue with that kind of charade.
So he walked off, aimlessly at first, out of the cafeteria, down the isolated corridor, and back towards the dormitory dwellings. He willed his mind to cease as many thoughts as he could manage and shuffled his legs in constant (albeit shambling) momentum forward. A gritty, two-fold irritation pooled in his belly. First and foremost, he was genuinely irritated. Having that girl dare to so casually refer to herself as his “girlfriend” irritated him to no end, and there was no way around that. But secondly, another irritation began to unfurl its nasty little tendrils within him and grip him from the inside. This one seemed far more insidious, and a creeping, consuming sort of familiar. Craig’s jaw clenched itself tight. He knew there was a good chance that he’d spent precisely enough time around that arrogant little blonde omega girl to induce a rut. And if that on its own wasn’t enough to only exacerbate his initial irritation (which it is), now Craig also has to deal with the painful aggravation of having no outlet for relief.
Craig has learned a few things over the years. First of all, he’s learned that once an alpha goes into a rut, the only way for it to end organically is to ride it out. Second, he’s learned that a rut can persist for an excruciating and seemingly neverending duration of time if left unchecked. Third, he’s learned that the symptoms of an alpha enduring a rut are all-consuming and extreme, and they cloud the mind of all rational judgment. This leads him to the last and most vital piece of information he’s gathered over the years of thwarting suppressants– an alpha in a rut will make dangerous choices in blind yet laser-focused determination to gratify and slate their carnal desires. Craig quickens his pace towards his dorm room.
All of this could so easily be relieved by turning on his heel, marching back to the cafeteria, and sticking his engorged cock into her slippery, wet hole for a few insignificant thrusts. He can hear her soft voice pleading with him to keep it inside while he finishes and he physically cringes. He’s always been very careful to pull it out before he fully balloons within her and always finishes carelessly on her leg or somewhere equally rude and crass. If he doesn’t, she’s likely to catch, and if she catches, he can only imagine what sort of commitment implications that would carry. It’s a whole world of messes he wants to avoid at any cost.
So rather than deal with the brief aggravation of waiting for his knot to deflate behind the zipper of his jeans after he’s spent and the ongoing hassle of her clinginess he’d have to endure in exchange for the easy relief, Craig fixates on his trek towards the privacy of his room and instead opts for the impending frustration of a solitary, unabated rut. He grimaces, failing to mitigate his mounting frustrations. To him, it’s so obvious why he overall would time and again choose a quick, reliable fuck over all the other horrible options to placate the otherwise unavoidable. He can’t even begin to describe how stupid all the other options sound. Suppression pills are tedious to obtain, and they result in headaches. Committing to a mate is a monumentally life-altering decision that would tie him down and most likely make him miserable (not to mention the commitment of catching a litter). Riding out a rut is painful and time-consuming and offers absolutely no benefit unless the alpha doing so is a fan of wasting days at a time in exchange for some strange bragging rights. The only logical conclusion, in Craig’s mind, is to relieve himself through a no-strings-attached fuck where he’s careful to pull out before he fully knots in the omega. It’s quick, it’s painless, and most of all it’s the simplest method to returning to his natural state of staying in his lane and giving no fucks about his surroundings. To view this mindset as trashy is old-fashioned and ignorant. It’s functional–nothing more, nothing less.
Re: Tweek/Craig, ABO, overstimulation
[1/?]
Craig could safely say presenting as an alpha had been one of the most irritating things he’d ever endured. It wasn’t necessarily that he disliked his secondary sex traits. On the contrary, he felt grateful for a handful of the perks. He was often regarded with a certain unspoken respect, most people would give him a wide berth of personal space out of either reverence or intimidation, and best of all he knew that no matter how unsocial or unpleasant he behaved in public it would be written off as a feature of his secondary sex rather than a failing of his personality.
That’s not to say being an alpha was all good things, however. On the contrary, it’s often a hindrance. With the aforementioned reverence comes a certain level of societal expectation Craig doesn’t prefer shouldering. He’s expected to “do better” and “be better” for the benefit of “the lesser sexes.” It’s assumed that one day he’ll be a loving provider or some sort of outspoken leader and live up to ideals others have set for him. He hates that. He’s not exactly a self-assured person, and he’d rather just be some no-name guy.
But that’s not even the worst of things. Because of course, it’s not. When Craig was young, he’d always quietly hoped he’d present as a beta. It’d seemed like the easiest path. It was very middle-of-the-road and he could surely blend into the backdrop. Back then, he’d been less confident. That’s not to say that he’s particularly confident now; rather, it’s more a testament to exactly how unsure of himself he’d been then.
Middle school had dealt with the embarrassing details of primary sexual education and put Craig and his classmates in the uncomfortable situation of listening to adult instructors stand up in front of the class and give graphic descriptions of their bodies and the changes that would happen to them. And then in high school, that very situation repeated itself with their secondary sexual education but in a much worse way. The instructor took a much more stern attitude, describing with the utmost urgency the importance of their impending presentations and how they would shape their lives going forward.
Craig waxed and waned between complacency and indifference at first (because honestly, what choice did he have), but in time he began to present unmistakably as an alpha. He grew taller than his classmates, and even though he took what could be described as a cavalier attitude towards physical fitness, he grew much stronger than most of his classmates, too. His senses became keener, and he became increasingly accustomed to the routine inconvenience of all-consuming, unquenchable lust.
He never had to look very far for a potential mate, though. Either someone would approach him (undoubtedly lured by the carelessly unmasked scent of his powerful pheromones), or he’d sniff around and quickly find some desperate omega or even a curious beta. There were ways to prevent an alpha from going into a routine rut, of course. Craig never much cared for them honestly, and the idea of having to schedule regular doctor’s appointments to prescribe him bottles and bottles of pills that would stifle his nature in exchange for unpleasant headaches and bodily dysfunction was never really a barter he wanted to make.
The common belief came as a somewhat conservative notion– finding a mate should be a special and reverent act. Craig never bought into that, either. Finding a mate was a constant yet temporary solution to a natural state of things. He, as an alpha, would go into a rut. Some random beta or omega would sense this and they would act on their mutual desire, relieve the craving, and then they’d part ways. Some people found this approach trashy, but for Craig, this was just simply the state of things.
In time, Craig had come to more or less settle down with one particular omega. He uses that term very lightly– she always seemed to sync up with his cycles and would often give him those pleading eyes. It was in all honestly an arrangement of convenience. But still, it was routine and she didn’t impede much on his daily life, generally speaking. They’d take care of their business in a way Craig overall preferred. Which is to say, it was routine, down to a concise and predictable pattern, and not very exciting.
Nothing about their increasingly customary habits has ever had an undertone of passion or romance. Craig views it sort of in the same way he views a chore or an errand or even just picking his nose. It’s something that needs to be done, so he does it. They don’t discuss much outside of their methodical meetups, and they don’t put much effort into any sort of pretense of what exactly they’re doing together. In fact, Craig isn’t even really sure of her name. He thinks it might be Annie, but at this point, he’s been fucking her pretty regularly, and even though there’s very little passion in the act, he’s much too embarrassed to ask her what her name is.
It’s only been about half an hour or so since he last saw her, actually. When her heat is approaching, she typically goes about things in the same way each time. She finds him where he frequently sits alone in the co-ed dormitory’s dining hall and quietly perches on the other side of his table. She gives him sidelong glances and twirls a finger through her wild, flaxen locks of hair.
And, as usual, at first, he feels nothing. He has no opinions on her appearance and he holds no emotion in his heart that might make him feel some kind of attachment to her. But he knows she’ll persist, and he also knows that given enough exposure to the way she blatantly and flagrantly propositions herself to him, something within him will activate. Ultimately, he likes it this way. This meaningless monthly ritual of twenty minutes of silent-but-effective, straightforward “foreplay” followed by ten minutes maximum of mostly clothed and meaningless sex is a far better situation to have landed himself in than the alternative of tedious suppression tactics or waiting for an organic rut to occur and then coping with the intensity and aggravation of it.
Today, however, Craig feels differently. Today maybe-Annie demanded too much and made some serious presumptions of him that rubbed him the wrong way. She threw around words and phrasing that she had no business taking so lightly or so impertinently. With a dainty finger in her voluminous blonde curls, she tossed around the idea that she considered herself his girlfriend. Craig had only snorted in response. Well, that was nothing short of trite. Where she had gotten that notion, he hadn’t the slightest clue. Craig had never asked her to be his mate and had never made any indication that he had any interest in her whatsoever beyond the unambiguously direct desire to relieve himself of his rut and the simplicity that she provided to that end. The closest things they’ve had to dates are the brief public meetups they share in the cafeteria. He’s never asked her a single question about herself and he’s never seen her body undressed. Hell, he doesn’t even know her name. There are only three things Craig knows about this girl at all– she has pretty blonde hair, she smells good, and they are a good physical match in a strictly biological way.
If in some way this girl thinks these things constitute the grounds for a decent partnership going forward, Craig almost feels sorry for her. The operative word here, of course, is almost; he truly can’t express how little attachment he feels towards the situation beyond the convenience of the arrangement. He feels a very numb sort of disgust towards the concept and as such, ended up wordlessly leaving her alone at the table. The whole idea of her claiming words that had no business in her mouth painted her in a new sort of desperate and pathetic light that he just couldn’t stomach. These are descriptors that he, as an alpha, would generally find a twisted sort of alluring. But in this context? Craig just couldn’t continue with that kind of charade.
So he walked off, aimlessly at first, out of the cafeteria, down the isolated corridor, and back towards the dormitory dwellings. He willed his mind to cease as many thoughts as he could manage and shuffled his legs in constant (albeit shambling) momentum forward. A gritty, two-fold irritation pooled in his belly. First and foremost, he was genuinely irritated. Having that girl dare to so casually refer to herself as his “girlfriend” irritated him to no end, and there was no way around that. But secondly, another irritation began to unfurl its nasty little tendrils within him and grip him from the inside. This one seemed far more insidious, and a creeping, consuming sort of familiar. Craig’s jaw clenched itself tight. He knew there was a good chance that he’d spent precisely enough time around that arrogant little blonde omega girl to induce a rut. And if that on its own wasn’t enough to only exacerbate his initial irritation (which it is), now Craig also has to deal with the painful aggravation of having no outlet for relief.
Craig has learned a few things over the years. First of all, he’s learned that once an alpha goes into a rut, the only way for it to end organically is to ride it out. Second, he’s learned that a rut can persist for an excruciating and seemingly neverending duration of time if left unchecked. Third, he’s learned that the symptoms of an alpha enduring a rut are all-consuming and extreme, and they cloud the mind of all rational judgment. This leads him to the last and most vital piece of information he’s gathered over the years of thwarting suppressants– an alpha in a rut will make dangerous choices in blind yet laser-focused determination to gratify and slate their carnal desires. Craig quickens his pace towards his dorm room.
All of this could so easily be relieved by turning on his heel, marching back to the cafeteria, and sticking his engorged cock into her slippery, wet hole for a few insignificant thrusts. He can hear her soft voice pleading with him to keep it inside while he finishes and he physically cringes. He’s always been very careful to pull it out before he fully balloons within her and always finishes carelessly on her leg or somewhere equally rude and crass. If he doesn’t, she’s likely to catch, and if she catches, he can only imagine what sort of commitment implications that would carry. It’s a whole world of messes he wants to avoid at any cost.
So rather than deal with the brief aggravation of waiting for his knot to deflate behind the zipper of his jeans after he’s spent and the ongoing hassle of her clinginess he’d have to endure in exchange for the easy relief, Craig fixates on his trek towards the privacy of his room and instead opts for the impending frustration of a solitary, unabated rut. He grimaces, failing to mitigate his mounting frustrations. To him, it’s so obvious why he overall would time and again choose a quick, reliable fuck over all the other horrible options to placate the otherwise unavoidable. He can’t even begin to describe how stupid all the other options sound. Suppression pills are tedious to obtain, and they result in headaches. Committing to a mate is a monumentally life-altering decision that would tie him down and most likely make him miserable (not to mention the commitment of catching a litter). Riding out a rut is painful and time-consuming and offers absolutely no benefit unless the alpha doing so is a fan of wasting days at a time in exchange for some strange bragging rights. The only logical conclusion, in Craig’s mind, is to relieve himself through a no-strings-attached fuck where he’s careful to pull out before he fully knots in the omega. It’s quick, it’s painless, and most of all it’s the simplest method to returning to his natural state of staying in his lane and giving no fucks about his surroundings. To view this mindset as trashy is old-fashioned and ignorant. It’s functional–nothing more, nothing less.