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Deedeemcgee
Meteorite
- Joined
- Dec 4, 2022
I love a classic Omegaverse romance; a little scifi or fantasy mixed in to a society built around super horny beings who's very biology creates a Dom/sub dynamic?? Sign me up. It may be a trope straight out of the 2000s roleplay chat forums, but I miss exploring it, plus it lends itself to some fun world-building for those who enjoy a little more story with plenty of smut.
My favorite "sub-genre" of the Omegaverse is the damsel in distress-an abused and traumatized Omega rescued by an Alpha who is more on the protective side than anything she ever knew. Together they discover what a true Alpha-Omega relationship should be, and perhaps seek to change the world or fight some bad guys together in the meantime.
Do you prefer a single Alpha-Omega relationship? Or would you like to roleplay as a pack who takes in a frightened Omega they are all drawn to? I am happy to discuss, world-build, and play with the right parter.
But first...
Omegaverse 101
(This is for anyone who needs a referesher or hasn't explored this genre before, skip to "The Roleplay" if you don't want to get the run-down))
Omegaverse is a genre which is open to playing with backstories, greater genres (fantasy, sci-fi, even horror, etc). The main point of the Omegaverse is the dynamics and how the interactions between them affect the society or civilation within the world. It should be noted that Alphas can be female and Omegas can be male, but I don't think we need to get into mpreg in this particular RP haha
Alphas
---------------------------
Alphas are typically the leader and/or warrior caste. They sometimes have super abilities beyond superior strength, healing, and um...vitality (wink wink...they have huge cocks ok), but in general they are large is stature, naturally physically imposing, and exude authority and dominence. There are a few universal abilities that they almost always have in addition to the physical ones. These traits are usually inspired by wolf dynamics (whether scientifically accurate or not haha)
Their "bark": an Alpha has a supernatural ability to command those in "lower" casts, particularly Omegas. This vocalization provokes a physical response, causing Omegas to submit and sometimes even has a mild controlling affect, in some Omegaverse stories an Alpha's bark can cause an Omega to do whatever is commanded, making resistance nearly impossible.
Their "Purr": Another Alpha vocalization that has a more calming affect on an Omega. An Alpha's purr, described as a low rumbling in their chest, is meant to comfort and, sometimes, provoke an arousal from the Omega.
An Alpha is naturally inclined to dominate, but also has a biological impulse to protect their Omega. Only an Omega-Alpha pairing can guarantee the survival of the species, as Omegas are particularly fertile (yes there is that breeding kink, however it can be worked around with birth control if you prefer to avoid it) and can physically handle an Alpha's natural...gifts.
In some worlds, an Alpha-Omega pairing (or bond) can enhance an Alpha's lifespan or abilities, something something hormones/pheromones.
Speaking of which, a particular kink which I like about the Omegaverse is smells. Both Alphas and Omegas emit pheromones which attract them to one another, and are described as the most delicious, irresistable scents. Or, conversely, if an Omega is not compatible with a certain Alpha, they will be repelled by their scent. Its a fun way to play with the olfactory details. Both should be able to smell their mate from long distances, and can scent mood changes as well.
Two kinks that are always present in an Omegaverse smut: Knotting and Biting.
An Alpha's anatomy is built for war, and breeding. Knotting their Omega ensures a succesful mating, and also feels incredible (or terrible, if an Omega is unwilling). An Apha also marks his mate by biting, in some worlds he has fangs or sharp teeth, in others not so. Biting as a fetish is something I enjoy though.
Alphas can travel in packs of three or four, sharing an Omega (or several) between them. We can use this trait if you're interested in sharing or gangnamg kinks. Packs have a deep bond and are often united by their drive to protect an Omega.
Omegas
--------------------------
In many ways an Omega is the opposite of an Alpha, complimenting his natural dominence and strength with her own abilities. Yes, she is naturally submissive (or meant to be, as a common theme in Omegaverse stories is an Omega who is resistant to her "place" in society. Cliche, but fun!).
Despite her submissive nature, Omegas can be powerful in their own ways. Alphas are inclined to protect, as well as posess, Omegas. Some Omegas can influence Alpha behaviors with their own purr, a trait evolved from having to calm an enraged Alpha for thier own safety.
Physically, Omegas are more able to handle an Alphas...anatomy, better than a Beta or normal human. This is where a size play kink can come into play. Their organs can supernaturally accomodate any length or girth, and find pleasure where a normal human would find pain.
They also produce "slick", a natural lubricant that basically pours out of them and also contains a concentration of pheromones that Alpha's go feral for.
Omegas also experience Heat, an extreme version of ovulation in which they have strong physical, sexual, and mental symptoms. Usually their heats involve a fever, increased pheromones, and an insatiable need to mate. Heat also causes an Omega agony if their needs are not met, and can be dangerous around Alphas, because their pheromones make Alphas go into a "rut", where they are single mindedly trying to fuck and care for their Omega. This can cause Alphas to become destructive if they are kept from their mate, and can also put the Omega in danger if too many Alphas are nearby-they will fight over her and even nonconsensually take the Omega, causing injury.
During their heat, Omegas are compelled to nest. In some worlds they enjoy this activity at all times during their cycle, but especially when they are ovulating. They feel a strong compulsion to use soft and pretty materials to make a nest in which they want to mate. To deny an Omega their nest is particularly cruel, and to enter it without her permission is considered extremely tabboo.
Betas
------------------------
Betas are usually considered the "ordinary civilians" of the world, but are also often the sort of behind the scenes ruling class. While Alphas fight the wars and play more brutal games as leaders, A Beta council secretly manipulate both Alphas and Omegas to keep balance or benefit themselves. They can also be more of a "slave class", submissive to both Alphas and Omegas, depending on the world. They do not have the abilities or physical needs of Alphas or Omegas, but they do respond to Barks and Pheromones to a lesser degree.
-------------------------
The Roleplay
In my prefered world building, both Alphas and Omegas enjoy superior healing abilities, slowed aging, and sometimes supernatural abilites (such as psychic or elemental powers) that are enhanced with a bonded mating. I present a story that is typical as far as Omegaverse goes; a post apocalyptic sci-fi-ish world with warring nations fighting over resources, including Omegas themselves. The "evil" nation keeps Omegas imprisoned in facilities where they are experimented on, forcibly bred, or forcibly bonded with high-ranking Alphas in order to enhance them for war. My character escapes, but has no plan of where to go next. She's half-starved, scarred, and terrified when you (or your pack, depending on what you're down for) find her. Thus the demsel in distress story begins.
Message me if you want to go over details, kinks, limits, and world building. In the meantime, here is an intro to get a sense of my writing.
The Intro
Rina
I can smell meat. I’ve lost count of the days since I’ve eaten. Traveling through the wilds, sleeping in the hollows of tree roots, surviving off bark and berries, has turned me into something I hardly recognize. My hands are skeletal, nails broken down to the quick and dirty. I’m filthy, but at least it offers some sort of camouflage, some mask to my scent. The clothes I stole were already too big on me, and now I have to hold the pants to my bony hips with a length of vine I found just to keep them up. My feet have long gone numb from the blisters of wearing boots not my size. At least winter is still some time off, though the nights are growing colder.
I follow the smell of food through a thicket of dense brush; thorny brambles snagging on my skin and matted dark hair as I half-crawl through. I hear voices, so I must move cautiously. I don’t have the energy to be surprised at people way out here in the wilds, but I’d rather they not expect me to come bursting out of the bushes. The daylight is quickly fading, affording me some additional cover at least. The brush thins, and I peer through a cover of saplings and undergrowth to see a camp. A fire glows in the center, a truck with a canvas covering and massive wheels is parked off to one side. A man rifles around in the back, and three more sit around the fire. One is cleaning a weapon, one consulting a large, creased price of paper. The other leans against a log. They are large and well fed, twice my size or more. They wear something close to the uniforms of the compound guards, but different colors and better quality. Dark green pants with many pockets, matching shirts and jackets, rather than the black of the guards I’m used to.
“Ah ha!” The man in the truck proclaims, startling me. I duck down, making sure I’m hidden.
“I knew I packed this somewhere. What scouting expedition isn’t complete without whiskey.” He jumps down from the truck, shaking a bottle of amber liquid at the others. He is as tall as the others, but more lean, with sandy brown hair disheveled as if he frequently runs his hands through it. His accent is strange and lilting, his voice playful. The one with the map rolls his eyes, shooting the whiskey-bottle man a glare.
“If you drink too much you miss your watch I’m going to kick your ass.” This one’s voice is deeper pitched, grinding together like gravel. He has a proud nose and dark hair. It falls across his forehead in loose curls, and his eyes are sharp even from my distance, accentuating his threat. I sniff the air. Their scents are muted by woodsmoke and something metallic, but still detectable. Alphas. What are they doing here? They are not Zyrian. But they are still dangerous. I sniff again, finding the meat smell. My eyes are drawn to four dark green packets leaning against rocks near the fire. Steam wafts out of the tops, carrying the smell with it. My mouth waters.
The one cleaning his weapon finishes, clearing the chamber with a loud click that makes me flinch. He has light hair shorn to his scalp on the sides, and a scar that splits his face diagonally. His lip is pulled into a sneer from it, exaggerated when he picks up his packet and sniffs it.
“Meatloaf again. Can’t we get Chicken Paprikash for once?”
The fourth one takes the bottle and tips it into his mouth, grimacing. He seems more at ease than the others, though he carries a certain air of deadly grace that makes me wonder if he’s the most keen.
All of these observations, the inventory of each of their builds, movements, voices, the tiny glimpses of their personalities, this is a skill that has saved me in the past. I watch them for a while, my hunger growing as they pick at their food unenthusiastically. Still, I wait. I can’t get caught, not after everything, but the opportunity for real food is not one I can afford to avoid. If I’m right about where I am, it’s still three days at least until I reach the refugee camp in Olsinke, the no-man’s-land city that serves as a neutral hub between the two warring countries.
When they start to settle, they set the first watch. Whiskey-bottle takes it, walking off to patrol the perimeter as the others roll out sleeping mats. BeI’m nothing if not quiet. Another skill that has served me in the past. Quiet, unnoticed, small. My feet pad on the decaying leaves of the forest floor silently as I creep toward the truck, keeping one eye on the Alphas around the fire, and one on the patrolling man as he circles slowly, humming to himself.
I reach the truck just after he passes by it, ducking inside the cargo area as silently as I can. From the shadows I watch him pause, sniffing the air, and I hold my breath. After a moment he resumes his humming and continues on, and I hear his voice fading. I breath, turning to the contents of the vehicle. My eyes adjust to the dark, and after a moment I can see as if it were twilight. There are several plastic crates, all of them clasped closed except for one. I peer inside and my stomach growls loudly when I find more of the green packets, drinking water, a few luxuries like dried fruit and even a chocolate bar. I have tasted chocolate once in my life, when the commandant gave the children a reward for good behavior. It turned out to be a lie, like everything else they did at the compound, but I remember the taste of that chocolate and I pocket the bar from the crate.
I grab four pouches, plus a bottle of water. It’s all I can carry for now. I just need to get my strength up, then I can hunt. I should be close to Givansk by now, the refugee city rumored to be on the other side of the wilds. I chug half the water before I leave the truck, then decide to grab another one. And a packet of dried apples. I practically drool at my bounty, but I can’t waste anymore time. Whiskey-bottle will be coming around again any second.
I shove what I can into my stolen jacket pockets and peer outside. It’s quiet, no humming or rumbling voices as the others chat, just the crackling of the fire. The twitching glow of it casts shadows around the trees, making the woods seem alive. I wait, but I don’t see or hear him, so I carefully hop down. I land with a soft thud, the sound making me cringe. I look around, but still don’t see anyone. Hope fills me, making me nearly giddy, and I bound for the treeline with my spoils.
Hard arms coil around me out of nowhere. I swear whiskey-bottle seems to manifest out of the dark like a shadow. I scream.
My favorite "sub-genre" of the Omegaverse is the damsel in distress-an abused and traumatized Omega rescued by an Alpha who is more on the protective side than anything she ever knew. Together they discover what a true Alpha-Omega relationship should be, and perhaps seek to change the world or fight some bad guys together in the meantime.
Do you prefer a single Alpha-Omega relationship? Or would you like to roleplay as a pack who takes in a frightened Omega they are all drawn to? I am happy to discuss, world-build, and play with the right parter.
But first...
Omegaverse 101
(This is for anyone who needs a referesher or hasn't explored this genre before, skip to "The Roleplay" if you don't want to get the run-down))
Omegaverse is a genre which is open to playing with backstories, greater genres (fantasy, sci-fi, even horror, etc). The main point of the Omegaverse is the dynamics and how the interactions between them affect the society or civilation within the world. It should be noted that Alphas can be female and Omegas can be male, but I don't think we need to get into mpreg in this particular RP haha
Alphas
---------------------------
Alphas are typically the leader and/or warrior caste. They sometimes have super abilities beyond superior strength, healing, and um...vitality (wink wink...they have huge cocks ok), but in general they are large is stature, naturally physically imposing, and exude authority and dominence. There are a few universal abilities that they almost always have in addition to the physical ones. These traits are usually inspired by wolf dynamics (whether scientifically accurate or not haha)
Their "bark": an Alpha has a supernatural ability to command those in "lower" casts, particularly Omegas. This vocalization provokes a physical response, causing Omegas to submit and sometimes even has a mild controlling affect, in some Omegaverse stories an Alpha's bark can cause an Omega to do whatever is commanded, making resistance nearly impossible.
Their "Purr": Another Alpha vocalization that has a more calming affect on an Omega. An Alpha's purr, described as a low rumbling in their chest, is meant to comfort and, sometimes, provoke an arousal from the Omega.
An Alpha is naturally inclined to dominate, but also has a biological impulse to protect their Omega. Only an Omega-Alpha pairing can guarantee the survival of the species, as Omegas are particularly fertile (yes there is that breeding kink, however it can be worked around with birth control if you prefer to avoid it) and can physically handle an Alpha's natural...gifts.
In some worlds, an Alpha-Omega pairing (or bond) can enhance an Alpha's lifespan or abilities, something something hormones/pheromones.
Speaking of which, a particular kink which I like about the Omegaverse is smells. Both Alphas and Omegas emit pheromones which attract them to one another, and are described as the most delicious, irresistable scents. Or, conversely, if an Omega is not compatible with a certain Alpha, they will be repelled by their scent. Its a fun way to play with the olfactory details. Both should be able to smell their mate from long distances, and can scent mood changes as well.
Two kinks that are always present in an Omegaverse smut: Knotting and Biting.
An Alpha's anatomy is built for war, and breeding. Knotting their Omega ensures a succesful mating, and also feels incredible (or terrible, if an Omega is unwilling). An Apha also marks his mate by biting, in some worlds he has fangs or sharp teeth, in others not so. Biting as a fetish is something I enjoy though.
Alphas can travel in packs of three or four, sharing an Omega (or several) between them. We can use this trait if you're interested in sharing or gangnamg kinks. Packs have a deep bond and are often united by their drive to protect an Omega.
Omegas
--------------------------
In many ways an Omega is the opposite of an Alpha, complimenting his natural dominence and strength with her own abilities. Yes, she is naturally submissive (or meant to be, as a common theme in Omegaverse stories is an Omega who is resistant to her "place" in society. Cliche, but fun!).
Despite her submissive nature, Omegas can be powerful in their own ways. Alphas are inclined to protect, as well as posess, Omegas. Some Omegas can influence Alpha behaviors with their own purr, a trait evolved from having to calm an enraged Alpha for thier own safety.
Physically, Omegas are more able to handle an Alphas...anatomy, better than a Beta or normal human. This is where a size play kink can come into play. Their organs can supernaturally accomodate any length or girth, and find pleasure where a normal human would find pain.
They also produce "slick", a natural lubricant that basically pours out of them and also contains a concentration of pheromones that Alpha's go feral for.
Omegas also experience Heat, an extreme version of ovulation in which they have strong physical, sexual, and mental symptoms. Usually their heats involve a fever, increased pheromones, and an insatiable need to mate. Heat also causes an Omega agony if their needs are not met, and can be dangerous around Alphas, because their pheromones make Alphas go into a "rut", where they are single mindedly trying to fuck and care for their Omega. This can cause Alphas to become destructive if they are kept from their mate, and can also put the Omega in danger if too many Alphas are nearby-they will fight over her and even nonconsensually take the Omega, causing injury.
During their heat, Omegas are compelled to nest. In some worlds they enjoy this activity at all times during their cycle, but especially when they are ovulating. They feel a strong compulsion to use soft and pretty materials to make a nest in which they want to mate. To deny an Omega their nest is particularly cruel, and to enter it without her permission is considered extremely tabboo.
Betas
------------------------
Betas are usually considered the "ordinary civilians" of the world, but are also often the sort of behind the scenes ruling class. While Alphas fight the wars and play more brutal games as leaders, A Beta council secretly manipulate both Alphas and Omegas to keep balance or benefit themselves. They can also be more of a "slave class", submissive to both Alphas and Omegas, depending on the world. They do not have the abilities or physical needs of Alphas or Omegas, but they do respond to Barks and Pheromones to a lesser degree.
-------------------------
The Roleplay
In my prefered world building, both Alphas and Omegas enjoy superior healing abilities, slowed aging, and sometimes supernatural abilites (such as psychic or elemental powers) that are enhanced with a bonded mating. I present a story that is typical as far as Omegaverse goes; a post apocalyptic sci-fi-ish world with warring nations fighting over resources, including Omegas themselves. The "evil" nation keeps Omegas imprisoned in facilities where they are experimented on, forcibly bred, or forcibly bonded with high-ranking Alphas in order to enhance them for war. My character escapes, but has no plan of where to go next. She's half-starved, scarred, and terrified when you (or your pack, depending on what you're down for) find her. Thus the demsel in distress story begins.
Message me if you want to go over details, kinks, limits, and world building. In the meantime, here is an intro to get a sense of my writing.
The Intro
Rina
I can smell meat. I’ve lost count of the days since I’ve eaten. Traveling through the wilds, sleeping in the hollows of tree roots, surviving off bark and berries, has turned me into something I hardly recognize. My hands are skeletal, nails broken down to the quick and dirty. I’m filthy, but at least it offers some sort of camouflage, some mask to my scent. The clothes I stole were already too big on me, and now I have to hold the pants to my bony hips with a length of vine I found just to keep them up. My feet have long gone numb from the blisters of wearing boots not my size. At least winter is still some time off, though the nights are growing colder.
I follow the smell of food through a thicket of dense brush; thorny brambles snagging on my skin and matted dark hair as I half-crawl through. I hear voices, so I must move cautiously. I don’t have the energy to be surprised at people way out here in the wilds, but I’d rather they not expect me to come bursting out of the bushes. The daylight is quickly fading, affording me some additional cover at least. The brush thins, and I peer through a cover of saplings and undergrowth to see a camp. A fire glows in the center, a truck with a canvas covering and massive wheels is parked off to one side. A man rifles around in the back, and three more sit around the fire. One is cleaning a weapon, one consulting a large, creased price of paper. The other leans against a log. They are large and well fed, twice my size or more. They wear something close to the uniforms of the compound guards, but different colors and better quality. Dark green pants with many pockets, matching shirts and jackets, rather than the black of the guards I’m used to.
“Ah ha!” The man in the truck proclaims, startling me. I duck down, making sure I’m hidden.
“I knew I packed this somewhere. What scouting expedition isn’t complete without whiskey.” He jumps down from the truck, shaking a bottle of amber liquid at the others. He is as tall as the others, but more lean, with sandy brown hair disheveled as if he frequently runs his hands through it. His accent is strange and lilting, his voice playful. The one with the map rolls his eyes, shooting the whiskey-bottle man a glare.
“If you drink too much you miss your watch I’m going to kick your ass.” This one’s voice is deeper pitched, grinding together like gravel. He has a proud nose and dark hair. It falls across his forehead in loose curls, and his eyes are sharp even from my distance, accentuating his threat. I sniff the air. Their scents are muted by woodsmoke and something metallic, but still detectable. Alphas. What are they doing here? They are not Zyrian. But they are still dangerous. I sniff again, finding the meat smell. My eyes are drawn to four dark green packets leaning against rocks near the fire. Steam wafts out of the tops, carrying the smell with it. My mouth waters.
The one cleaning his weapon finishes, clearing the chamber with a loud click that makes me flinch. He has light hair shorn to his scalp on the sides, and a scar that splits his face diagonally. His lip is pulled into a sneer from it, exaggerated when he picks up his packet and sniffs it.
“Meatloaf again. Can’t we get Chicken Paprikash for once?”
The fourth one takes the bottle and tips it into his mouth, grimacing. He seems more at ease than the others, though he carries a certain air of deadly grace that makes me wonder if he’s the most keen.
All of these observations, the inventory of each of their builds, movements, voices, the tiny glimpses of their personalities, this is a skill that has saved me in the past. I watch them for a while, my hunger growing as they pick at their food unenthusiastically. Still, I wait. I can’t get caught, not after everything, but the opportunity for real food is not one I can afford to avoid. If I’m right about where I am, it’s still three days at least until I reach the refugee camp in Olsinke, the no-man’s-land city that serves as a neutral hub between the two warring countries.
When they start to settle, they set the first watch. Whiskey-bottle takes it, walking off to patrol the perimeter as the others roll out sleeping mats. BeI’m nothing if not quiet. Another skill that has served me in the past. Quiet, unnoticed, small. My feet pad on the decaying leaves of the forest floor silently as I creep toward the truck, keeping one eye on the Alphas around the fire, and one on the patrolling man as he circles slowly, humming to himself.
I reach the truck just after he passes by it, ducking inside the cargo area as silently as I can. From the shadows I watch him pause, sniffing the air, and I hold my breath. After a moment he resumes his humming and continues on, and I hear his voice fading. I breath, turning to the contents of the vehicle. My eyes adjust to the dark, and after a moment I can see as if it were twilight. There are several plastic crates, all of them clasped closed except for one. I peer inside and my stomach growls loudly when I find more of the green packets, drinking water, a few luxuries like dried fruit and even a chocolate bar. I have tasted chocolate once in my life, when the commandant gave the children a reward for good behavior. It turned out to be a lie, like everything else they did at the compound, but I remember the taste of that chocolate and I pocket the bar from the crate.
I grab four pouches, plus a bottle of water. It’s all I can carry for now. I just need to get my strength up, then I can hunt. I should be close to Givansk by now, the refugee city rumored to be on the other side of the wilds. I chug half the water before I leave the truck, then decide to grab another one. And a packet of dried apples. I practically drool at my bounty, but I can’t waste anymore time. Whiskey-bottle will be coming around again any second.
I shove what I can into my stolen jacket pockets and peer outside. It’s quiet, no humming or rumbling voices as the others chat, just the crackling of the fire. The twitching glow of it casts shadows around the trees, making the woods seem alive. I wait, but I don’t see or hear him, so I carefully hop down. I land with a soft thud, the sound making me cringe. I look around, but still don’t see anyone. Hope fills me, making me nearly giddy, and I bound for the treeline with my spoils.
Hard arms coil around me out of nowhere. I swear whiskey-bottle seems to manifest out of the dark like a shadow. I scream.