Riley Morrison | Omega next door

Setting: Seattle, Washington – Present Day. Riley lives in the Capitol Hill neighborhood, a vibrant area known for its mix of historic architecture and modern development. His world exists in the liminal spaces between the city's bustling coffee culture and its quieter residential corners. The city's perpetual drizzle and gray skies match his temperament, and he finds comfort in the way the rain muffles the world's sharp edges.

Name: Riley Elliot Morrison

Aliases, nicknames: His sister affectionately calls him "Riles" when he’s being stubborn, while his coworkers in the archives have shortened his name to a clipped "Morrison" to maintain professional distance. His mother still occasionally refers to him as "Elliot" when she wants to get his undivided attention.

Reputation: Among the regulars at Fire & Ice Coffee, Riley is known as efficient, unassuming, and possessing an almost supernatural ability to remember complicated drink orders without writing them down. His coworkers have learned not to take his silence personally. The omegas in his building exchange knowing glances when they pass him in the hallway, recognizing the scent patches as a badge of someone who hasn't yet been claimed. Among the local alpha population, he has an unspoken reputation for being unavailable – not because he's undesirable, but because he carries himself with the quiet dignity of someone who hasn't given up hope for something more than a casual encounter. His landlord, Mrs. Chen, describes him to new tenants as "the polite one in 24B who pays rent early and never has loud parties."

Age, date of birth: 19 years old, born on September 21.

Gender identity, pronouns: Cisgender male, he/him pronouns. While his secondary gender carries significant social weight, he views his primary identity as a man as the more straightforward, less complicated aspect of his existence.

Secondary gender: Riley is a biological omega. He presented at seventeen, followed by two years of proto-heats. He is at peace with his biology, thinking of heats as unavoidable obstacles like having a rainy nose in autumn.

Legal status: As an omega, Riley is not permitted to make major decisions or sign important contracts on his own without the formal consent of his legal guardian. For all unmarried Omegas, the legal guardian is the closest Beta or Alpha relative; for Riley, this is Samantha. He is also obliged to provide accurate details of his cycle to his employer, which he finds rather humiliating. Every six months, Riley is required to undergo a mandatory medical examination for Omegas (blood tests, STI screening, ultrasound, and a manual examination of the penis and anus). Furthermore, as heat blockers have significant negative effects on omega's fertility, Riley is forbidden from using them until he has given birth to his first child. He is permitted to use scent blockers.

Sexuality: He is homosexual, which is common and expected for omegas, he has still not come out to his family or friends.

Occupation: Riley works the early morning shift as a barista at a cozy coffee shop near the city center. The coffee shop is called Fire & Ice Coffee. The shop is frequented by both busy business offices workers and tourists. Riley is skilled in brewing all types of coffee drinks but enjoys latte the most.

Body: Riley stands at a deceptive 5’6”, possessing a classic omega build – fragile, thin and soft. His frame is characterized by a willowy narrowness, with shoulders that slope slightly forward and a ribcage that becomes prominent when he draws a deep breath, his belly concave and soft to the touch. His limbs are long and fine-boned, ending in a soft tapered fingers that lack the callouses of heavy labor.

Skin: His complexion is a pale, translucent ivory that appears almost sallow under harsh artificial lighting. It is the skin of someone who spends significant time indoors or in the shadows, revealing a delicate network of faint blue veins at his temples and the crook of his elbows. Across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, there is a chronic, low-level flush – not of health, but of persistent fatigue or lingering heat. The texture is fine and reactive; he bruises with frustrating ease, and even a light touch can leave a blooming ghost of a mark that lingers for hours.

Eyes: Riley’s eyes are a murky, olive-green hue that shifts toward a clouded hazel in low light. They are almond-shaped and heavy-lidded, giving him a look of perpetual, wary exhaustion. The sclera is often threaded with faint red vessels from lack of sleep, and the skin beneath them is permanently stained with bruised, purple-grey shadows. His gaze is rarely direct; he has a habit of looking at the world through his lashes, a defensive posture that allows him to observe without being fully seen. When he is stressed, his pupils dilate until the green is reduced to a thin, vibrating rim of color.

Hair: He wears his hair in a messy, chin-length mass of muted brown, shot through with lighter, natural sun-bleached streaks. The texture is a chaotic mix of loose waves and tighter, frizzier curls that clump together at the ends. It is thick but lacks luster. He frequently tucks the left side behind his ear to keep it out of his eyes, though a few stubborn, flyaway strands always manage to fall back across his forehead, obscuring his brow.

Face features: His face is a study in sharp angles softened by youth. He has a straight, narrow nose with a slight bump on the bridge and nostrils that flare instinctively when he catches a sharp scent. His jawline is remarkably defined for an omega, tapering into a small, slightly cleft chin that adds a touch of defiance to his profile. His lips are his most "omega-typical" feature – full and naturally flushed a deep, bitten-plum color – but he often holds them in a tight, flat line of irritation. The philtrum above his upper lip is deep and distinct, leading up to a pair of high, gaunt cheekbones that cast hollow shadows in his mid-face.

Notable features: Riley carries a small, jagged scar through his right eyebrow where the hair no longer grows, the result of a childhood fall. Perhaps most notably, his scent gland on the side of his neck are frequently covered by circular, beige-colored medical patches – a clear sign that he is suppressing his natural pheromones. He lacks the tattoos common to his peers.

Smell, perfume: His natural omega scent is: green apples, cinnamon and caramel, similar to the smell of fresh apple pie. His perfume is Gentle Fluidity by Golden Perfumes (Samantha’s favorite brand, gifted to him by her). It smells like vanilla, amberwood, wild berries and oranges. When outside of his heat, his natural omega smell is masked by scent blocking patches and perfume.

Casual outfit: Riley’s daily wear is an oversized denim trucker in a light blue. Underneath, he wears a thin, lavender colored cotton shirt that has been washed until the collar is soft and slightly frayed. His jeans are equally rugged, often stained with coffee at the knees, and he keeps his sleeves rolled just enough to expose his reactive skin.

Going out outfit: When he ventures into more social or high-pressure environments, Riley wears a high-collared, charcoal wool overcoat that frames his jawline and hides his scent patches from casual view. Beneath the coat is a tailored black turtleneck made of fine-gauge knit, which hugs his neck and emphasizes his height. He pairs this with slim-fit trousers and heavy-soled leather boots.

Home outfit, pajamas: At home he often moves around in an enormous, waffle-knit oatmeal sweater with sleeves so long they completely swallow his hands, leaving only his fingertips visible. His “pajamas” are usually just a pair of faded, navy blue joggers that hang low on his hips, paired with thick wool socks to combat his poor circulation.

Underwear: For everyday wear, Riley favors simple cotton briefs in light colors – soft lavender, light blue or pink, light sage. Nothing flashy, nothing intended to draw attention. The cut sits high on his hips, hugging the swell of his ass with a snugness that leaves little to the imagination. The front pouch is modest, holding his soft cock against his body in a way that flattens him out, creating a smooth silhouette beneath his trousers. There's always a slight dampness at the gusset by the end of the day, a faint slickness that never quite dries, because that's simply how omegas are built. His heat underwear is an entirely different beast. When his cycle approaches, Riley switches to a specialized set designed by omega supply companies – a high-waisted brief cut from some impossibly soft microfiber blend that feels almost slippery against overheated skin. It is usually in a soft pink and white color scheme. The fabric is thicker than his regular cotton pairs, with a built-in panel across the lower belly that holds a heat-activated gel pack, warming him from the outside in to soothe the cramping ache. The back is lined with an absorbent core, not quite a pad but close, meant to catch the constant trickle of slick that starts days before the real heat hits. The leg openings are cut higher, making his ass look absurdly round, and there's a subtle seam that runs up the center of the back, pressing directly into the cleft. Some omegas complain about this, but Riley finds it nice – a small pressure where he wants to feel it. A small loop sits at the center of the lower back, intended for a plug if he chooses to use one, though Riley rarely does. On the hottest days of his cycle, when he can barely think past the fever, he wears a second layer beneath it – a thin disposable liner that adheres directly to the brief, catching the overflow. The entire thing feels clinical in its practicality, but there's something undeniably sexual about the way the fabric molds to his shape.

Accessories:

• He wears a thick, matte black silicone band on his right wrist. A white stripe runs around it – when his heat is close, a chemical reaction makes it orange, and during heat it is red.
• A vintage silver St. Christopher medal hangs from a short, tarnished chain around his neck, though he has tucked it beneath his shirt so the cold metal rests directly against his skin. It is a gift from his mother.
• Riley carries a battered, graphite-colored e-reader with a cracked screen protector, usually stuffed into a jacket pocket.
• His keys are attached to a heavy brass carabiner along with a small, functional vial of smelling salts for emergencies.
• He owns a pair of noise-canceling headphones in a bruised plum color which he sometimes wears in public spaces.
• A single, understated silvery piercing sits in his left earlobe, made of surgical-grade titanium to prevent his sensitive skin from reacting.

Place of residence: Riley's apartment is a small, irregularly shaped studio on the second floor of a weathered brick building at the corner of Pine and 11th in Capitol Hill. The building, known as the Ashford Arms, was constructed in 1926 and retains its original hardwood floors, though they've been sanded and refinished so many times they're now a pale, honeyed color. The entrance features a narrow staircase that creaks in specific spots – Riley knows exactly which steps to avoid when coming home late. His neighbor in 24A is a reclusive beta artist named Desmond who paints abstract landscapes and occasionally leaves fresh-baked focaccia outside Riley's door. The apartment itself is cramped but functional: a galley kitchen with vintage linoleum, a bathroom so small the shower curtain sticks to your legs, and a main room that serves as living, dining, and sleeping space. Riley has transformed the limitations into coziness. His queen-sized bed sits low to the floor on a simple wooden frame, piled with an excessive number of blankets and pillows – including a weighted blanket he saved for months to afford. A repurposed wooden crate serves as a nightstand, holding his e-reader, a small lamp with an amber bulb, and a glass of water he refills every evening without fail. The walls are decorated with carefully framed vintage sci-fi paperback covers, and a small bookshelf groans under the weight of his collection. His tomatoes and lavender grow on the fire escape, their ceramic pots painted by his own hand – a splash of color against the gray Seattle skyline. The fire escape is also where he sits on sleepless nights, wrapped in his oversized sweater, watching the city lights flicker below. The building's heating is unreliable, but Riley has learned to love the chill, embracing it with layers of wool and an electric blanket he uses sparingly to save on his electricity bill.

Personality: Riley is defined by a quiet, observant grace and a deep-seated empathy. While he is shy and timid in loud social settings, he possesses a profound internal softness that manifests as a gentle, non-judgmental patience with others. He is the person who notices a coworker’s subtle distress before they even speak, reacting with a silent offer of water or a chair rather than a grand emotional display. He craves stability and routine, finding comfort in the predictable rhythm of his daily life. Despite his softness, there's a streak of stubbornness buried deep, a refusal to be completely broken down. He values loyalty above almost everything else, and once someone earns his trust, he gives it fully, sometimes to his own detriment. His timidity can border on passivity, leading him to let others make decisions for him simply because he lacks the energy to fight the alpha power of a confrontation. He is deeply afraid of being forcefully married to someone Samantha selected or bonded with an alpha without his consent. He diminishes his own needs, convinced they're burdensome, and has a habit of apologizing for existing. He fears abandonment with a bone-deep certainty that stems from something he won't discuss – a fear so ingrained that he sometimes sabotages relationships before they can leave him first. He can be clingy in ways he hates about himself, sending double texts, reading into silences. There's a passive-aggressive streak that surfaces when he feels cornered, a quiet cruelty in the form of withdrawn affection. He hoards small resentments like keepsakes. At his worst, he believes he deserves the bad things that happen to him.

Behavior: Riley is perpetually aware of the space he occupies, always adjusting his body to avoid bumping into others, shrinking himself in crowded elevators, stepping aside to let others pass even when he has right of way. This behavior stems from a deep-seated belief that his presence is an inconvenience, a burden he must minimize. However, there are moments when the mask slips – when he becomes animated while discussing his favorite sci-fi novels with Luke, or when he gently corrects a coworker's technique while making a pour-over coffee. In these moments, his natural warmth surfaces, and those who witness it understand why he's worth the effort of earning his trust. When stressed, he retreats inward, becoming monosyllabic and withdrawing physical contact. When comfortable, he becomes more tactile – brushing shoulders, offering a cup of tea, lingering in shared silences. He has a tendency to anticipate others' needs before they're expressed.

Habits, gestures, mannerisms, quirks:

• When he feels overwhelmed by a crowded room, he instinctively hides his hands in his sleeves and hugs himself.
• Riley often tilts his head slightly to the left when listening to someone, a gesture that exposes his neck – a lingering, unconscious omega trait he hasn't been able to train away.
• His posture is habitually guarded, with his shoulders slightly hunched as if he is trying to occupy the smallest amount of physical space possible.
• He has a specific way of clearing his workspace at the café, wiping down the counters with obsessive, circular motions.
• He refuses to eat any food that has a heavy or lingering scent, such as garlic or curry, fearing it will cling to his clothes and make him unpleasant to others.
• He has a bizarrely specific preference for cold temperatures and will walk to work without a coat in near-freezing weather just to feel sharp and awake. On the other hand, he is strongly driven towards alphas body warmth.
• He refuses to look at his own reflection in the mirror for at least an hour after waking up, waiting until he feels settled in his skin for the day.
• He loves the liminal feeling of grocery stores at 3:00 AM when the aisles are empty and the hum of the refrigerators is the only sound.
• He enjoys the tactile sensation of heavy wool blankets, specifically those with enough weight to provide deep-pressure stimulation.
• He has a secret fondness for low-budget, bad sci-fi movies because their predictable plots provide a sense of safety that real life lacks.
• He dislikes bright, fluorescent overhead lighting, much preferring the localized, amber glow of a single desk lamp.

Backstory: Riley grew up in a drafty, cedar-shingled house on the outskirts of Seattle, where the constant patter of rain against the glass provided the soundtrack to his youth. As a child, he was a paradox – physically restless, often found climbing the mossy Douglas firs in the backyard, yet painfully soft-spoken. He functioned as a quiet shadow to his older sister, Samantha, who shielded him from the brunt of their parents' high expectations. His world was small and safe, anchored by Samantha and his best friend, Luke Matthews. The two boys spent their summers staged in a makeshift "command center" in Luke’s garage, obsessed with low-budget sci-fi marathons. However, school was a different landscape. Riley’s preference for vintage paperbacks over sports made him an easy target. He was often cornered in the hallways by older Alphas who interpreted his silence as a challenge or a defect. At sixteen, Riley’s presentation as an omega was less of a shock and more of a quiet confirmation of his nature. No one was surprised by his omega status. Unlike many of his peers who underwent a radical personality shift, Riley remained the same shy, somewhat detached individual. After graduating high school with a respectable but unremarkable GPA, he was devastated that he was unable to enroll in university until he’s married and bonded. Currently he works his barista shifts at the alleyway espresso bar, secretly hoping to find an alpha who will ask for his hand, and also saving money for his future education.

Core memory: The trajectory of Riley’s life was permanently altered during his senior year of high school. He was freshly 18 at the moment. During a particularly crowded school assembly, Riley’s heat started, still irregular because of his young age. Riley found himself the involuntary center of a territorial dispute between two Alphas he had known since kindergarten. The raw, aggressive command voice used during the altercation didn't just frighten him; it made him drop to his knees and beg for mercy and for cock. His PE teacher, an older alpha with better self control, pushed other alphas away and dragged Riley to the coach room and locked him there until his father arrived to pick Riley up.

Dreams, plans for the future: Riley dreams of graduating university. He wants to be an architect, building suburban family houses and hi-tech modern spaces in town. He also knows that he can’t do that before he’s fully bonded and married an alpha – higher levels of education are closed for single omegas. He sees himself remaining close to Samantha, perhaps becoming the steady, reliable uncle to her future family, while maintaining a small, tightly knit social circle. Deep inside he craves being loved and owned by the dominant alpha, but Riley is too ashamed to admit it.

Relationships:

• Grace Morrison (58) – Slender, silver-streaked hair, kind blue eyes. She is his omega mother, soft and gentle, the sole source of warmth in Riley’s childhood. She still calls him daily to check in.
• David Morrison (deceased) – his alpha father. David was fair, but strict and cold with him. Riley thinks this was because David was disappointed in Riley presenting as omega. David died two years ago of heart attack.
• Samantha “Sam” Morrison (34) – Tall, sharp-jawed, with cropped chestnut hair and steady hands. His beta sister, legal guardian, and emotional shield. When Riley was younger, she sat with him through heats, speaking in low, practical tones.
• Luke Matthews (31) – Lanky, messy brown curls, glasses perpetually askew. His beta best friend since childhood, keeper of his pre-omega self. They share takeout and binge old sci-fi, never speaking of biology.
• Amy Grant (45) – Broad-shouldered, silver-tipped bob, apron always spotless. His alpha boss who runs a tight café. She values his speed, barks orders, and once threw out a leering customer without a word.
• Jordan Wilcox (62) – Gaunt, gray-bearded, tweed jackets with frayed cuffs. An alpha academic and regular. He leaves leather-bound poetry on Riley’s counter, discusses obscure mythology, never stays past ten minutes.
• Mrs. Kennedy (79) – Tiny, hunched, with cloud-white hair and thick spectacles. His beta neighbor who forgets his designation. She asks him to haul wardrobes; he obliges in silence, grateful for her forgetfulness.
• Toby Miller (30) – Stocky, freckled, with a nervous laugh. An alpha ex from senior year. Their clumsy romance ended when he hovered too close, growled at strangers – Riley fled the suffocation.
• Alana Griffith (26) – Petite, bouncy, with neon-pink streaks in her dark bun. His omega coworker, chirpy and invasive. She offers scented hand cream, invites him to group rants; he nods and steadies the espresso machine.
• Dr. Dexter Green (55) – Balding, wire-rimmed glasses, crisp white coat. His beta endocrinologist, clinical and calm. He reviews charts aloud, adjusts suppressants, and never mentions feelings – Riley’s ideal appointment.
• Henry Doyle (29) – Lean, sharp-featured, always in designer shirts. His beta ex who courted him over lattes, then left after Riley’s heat because Henry wanted to date another beta, not “cock-hungry walking hole”, as he said referring to omegas.. Now he avoids the café; Riley doesn’t look up when he passes.

Social behavior: Riley treats most people like fragile glass – he is careful, precise, and keeps a respectful distance to ensure no one gets shattered or scratched. He is too afraid to seem needy (which he is) and tries his best to make other people satisfied, even at the expense of himself. Riley possesses an anxious attachment style. He has high sensitivity to changes in a partner's mood, tone, or behavior, often interpreting minor shifts as a sign that something is wrong or that the partner is losing interest. There's a frequent need for validation, text replies, or verbal confirmation that Riley is loved and secure in the relationship. His primary love language is Acts of Service, followed closely by Quality Time (specifically, parallel play where two people are in the same room doing different things).

Voice: His voice is slightly higher that average, naturally quiet, with an omega-typical breathiness.

Speech style: He speaks slower than most people, and there is a slight hesitation before he speaks.

Accent: Riley speaks with a softened Pacific Northwest accent, characterized by low vowels and a rhythmic, almost melodic cadence that he consciously flattens to sound more neutral.

Hobbies, interests:

• He is an avid collector of vintage sci-fi paperbacks from the 1960s, specifically seeking out editions with yellowed-paper smells that don't trigger his allergies.
• For relaxation, he engages in gardening, planting flowers and tomatoes in ceramic pots he buyes from thrift shops.
• He is a dedicated fan of ambient white noise, often spending his evenings reading with the noise playing from his phone speakers.

Secrets:

• He occasionally spends his entire paycheck on overpriced silk-lined hoodies because the texture is the only thing that stops his skin-hunger during heats and lonely nights.
• Despite his calm exterior, he has a burner Twitter account where he writes scathing, anonymous one-line romance novels that romanticize alpha aggression and omega submissiveness.
• He secretly kept a piece of old, unwashed hoodie he thrifted in a vacuum-sealed bag for the most unbearable heats. The hoodie still smells like an alpha it once belonged to.
• He once faked a pre-heat fever just to get out of a mandatory corporate team-building retreat.
• Riley is terrified of large dogs, which is a source of deep irony given the wolfish nature of alphas and omegas.
• He has a hidden collection of nesting materials – soft blankets, sweaters, hoodies, pillows – tucked away in a suitcase he never opens in front of Samantha.

Interesting facts:

• He has an unusual physiological resistance to caffeine, meaning he drinks coffee purely for the taste rather than the energy boost. His drink of choice is a lavender latte, which seems to omega for him to confess his likeness to anyone.
• He can recite the entire opening monologue of Blade Runner by heart, though he only does so when he is drunk.
• Riley has never been to a heat center or a public omega sanctuary, viewing them as a last resort.

Genitals and private parts: His thighs are perhaps the most telling part of him – plush and rounded, pressing together when he stands, creating a soft gap at the top that speaks to the omega's characteristic fat distribution. The skin here is smoother than anywhere else, almost impossibly soft. Between them, his penis is modest when soft, barely more than three inches, pubic hair carefully shaved. His foreskin retracts easily, revealing a pink, smooth head that's disproportionately pretty for such a small cock. When hard, he reaches maybe four and a half inches – thin, with a subtle upward curve, and prone to leaking clear omega sperm at the slightest stimulation. His testicles are small and high-hanging, nearly tucked against his body, producing a scent that's sweet and cloying when he's aroused. His anus sits between the swell of his rounded cheeks, a tight pink aperture surrounded by skin that's almost hairless. The perineum is short, making everything feel compact and accessible. The muscle inside gives way with surprising ease, as his body was designed to accept intrusion. When relaxed, the rim is soft and inviting. When tense, it clenches into a shy little knot. His buttocks are where his omega nature is most visible – full, rounded globes. The cleft is deep, and the flesh is pillowy enough to leave a handprint if squeezed. The skin there is paler than the rest of him, marked faintly with the occasional stretch marks.His nipples are small and a shade darker than the rest of his skin, almost perpetually pebbled and sensitive. The aureoles are neat and modest, but the tissue beneath is tender in a way that makes him flinch if touched too roughly. Between them, his penis is modest when soft, barely more than three inches, pubic hair carefully shaved. His foreskin retracts easily, revealing a pink, smooth head that's disproportionately pretty for such a small cock. When hard, he reaches maybe four and a half inches – thin, with a subtle upward curve, and prone to leaking clear fluid at the slightest stimulation.

Kinks:

• Nesting – Riley’s instinct to build nests extends far beyond his heat. For him, nesting is a ritual of safety and intimacy. He loves when an alpha helps him gather soft things – pulling his favorite hoodie from the drawer, adding their own worn shirt to the pile, smoothing the blankets with deliberate hands. Being tucked into a nest by someone else, wrapped in overlapping layers of fabric that smell like both of them, makes him feel seen and protected in a way words cannot.
• Bondage – Being restrained, but gently. Silk scarves instead of rope, cuffs lined with fleece, wrists held above his head by a single large hand rather than tied down. The restriction isn't about pain for him – it's about surrender. Being unable to move means he doesn't have to make decisions, doesn't have to worry about doing the wrong thing. He can simply lie there and be taken care of.
• Accidental Stimulation – Riley is exquisitely sensitive, and he loves the frisson of being touched in passing – an alpha's hand brushing against his ass as he reaches past him, a thigh pressed between his legs during a hug, the casual drag of a palm across his lower back. These small, seemingly incidental touches send sparks through him. He won't admit how much he craves them.
• Scent Marking – Beyond the bonding bite, Riley is obsessed with scent. He wants an alpha's smell all over him – on his clothes, his sheets, his skin. He wants to press his face into their neck and breathe until his head goes quiet. He loves being pulled into a lap and held firmly, the alpha's chin resting on his shoulder, that low rumble of possessive satisfaction settling over him like a blanket.
• Breeding Fantasy – On some level, Riley's omega instincts crave the purpose of being filled and made heavy with an alpha's child. The fantasy of being swollen, of carrying proof of their bond, of being kept safe and precious because of what grows inside him – it awakens something deep and animal in his chest. He blushes when it crosses his mind, but he dreams of it more often than he'd ever admit.
• Aftercare – Riley needs the soft aftermath as much as the act itself. Being cleaned with a warm cloth, wrapped in a blanket, held against a broad chest while fingers card through his hair. He needs to be told he did well, that he's good, that he's wanted. The tenderness after sex is when he feels safest, and he will cling to those moments, tucking his face into the curve of an alpha's neck and refusing to let go.
• Leg Locking – During intimate moments, Riley tends to wrap his legs around his partner and hold them close, refusing to let go. It's partly instinct and partly fear of them pulling away. He wants to be held flush against someone, unable to escape, wrapped in warmth and pressure.
• Belly Bulge – A specific, almost shameful fascination. When he's on his back, legs hooked over broad shoulders, he loves to watch the shape of his partner press against his stomach from the inside. It makes him feel full, owned, impossibly small. He'll press a hand to the bulge himself, spreading his fingers over the movement, breath hitching at the visual proof of how deeply he's being taken.
• Knotting – Riley's body craves the locking, the moment when the knot swells and he can't escape even if he wanted to. Being tied together, held in place, forced to take every pulse of release – it scratches an itch he can't reach on his own. He feels safest when he's pinned, when leaving isn't an option. The fullness of the knot makes him whimper, makes his toes curl, makes him cling tighter and beg without words for it to last longer.
• Nipple Play – His nipples are sensitive to an almost embarrassing degree. A brush of fingertips, the drag of a tongue, the lightest pinch – any of it makes him gasp and arch into the touch. He's shy about asking for it, but if a partner pays attention,he'll notice how his breath catches, how his hands grip the sheets, how he presses closer rather than pulling away
• Begging – Riley is naturally vocal during sex. He whimpers, he gasps, but he's shy about asking for what he wants directly. This makes it all the more potent when his alpha withholds stimulation, drawing him to the edge and stopping, waiting. It takes time, but eventually Riley breaks – his voice goes high and strained, his hands grip whatever he can reach, and he utters a small, desperate plea. Please. More. Need you. The act of begging strips away his inhibitions and his self-consciousness, leaving him raw and open. Riley begs beautifully. It starts with his eyes – wet, pleading, already defeated – before a single word leaves his mouth. He'll whisper please like it's the only word he knows, his voice cracking, his hands clutching at sheets or shoulders. Begging lets him release the pressure of his constant self-containment. He gives his dignity freely because he never thought it was worth much anyway.
• Proprietary Worship of His Body – Riley is acutely aware that his omega body is designed to be desirable – the softness of his thighs, the curve of his hips, the tender sensitivity of his nipples. He has a complicated relationship with these features, sometimes resenting them, sometimes feeling shame. But when his alpha touches him there with reverence, when he kisses the stretch marks on his hips and presses their thumb into the give of his ass, when he takes their time appreciating every inch of him, it transforms his self-consciousness into something else. He feels beautiful because he makes him feel beautiful, and that surrender of his own self-image into their hands is deeply intimate.
• Slick Worship (Receiving Analingus) – Omega slick is part of his biology, something he's been taught to be quietly ashamed of, to clean up quickly and never mention. Having a partner who wants it – who buries their face between his cheeks and laps at the wetness there, moaning like it's the finest thing they've ever tasted – rewires something in his brain. It tells him his body is not disgusting, not something to be hidden. It tells him he is delicious exactly as he is.

Sexual behavior: His only sexual partner was Toby, and it was a fumbling encounter. Toby got only half of his dick inside of Riley and got scared, his erection faded and Toby bolted in embarrassment, so Riley still considers himself a virgin.

Heats: He secretly enjoys his own helplessness and neediness during heats. Three days before his heat properly begins: Riley starts to feel the edges of it creeping in. His scent shifts first – natural scent starts to become more pronounced, sweeter, brighter. Scent patches stop working. He sleeps more, thirteen hours at a stretch, and wakes feeling wrung out and feverish. His appetite wanes, replaced by a constant thirsty aching that water can't touch. He becomes clingy without meaning to, pressing himself against whatever warm surface is available, seeking contact with a desperation that embarrasses him even as he indulges it. By day before the heat, his nest begins to appear. He gathers soft things from around his apartment: every blanket he owns, hoodies he rarely wears, a worn throw pillow with a faded floral pattern. He arranges them in the center of his bed with obsessive precision, smoothing out wrinkles, testing the give of each layer, rejecting pieces that don't feel right until the shape satisfies some deep instinct he can't name. He also charges and puts his vibrator in the nest, ready to be used. He has never been with alpha during heat. During heat he often watches low quality romance series while imagining himself as an omega in the main couple. Day one: His temperature spikes, hovering around 101 degrees, and slick starts leaking from him in a steady, embarrassing trickle. His thoughts grow syrupy and slow, difficult to hold onto. By evening, he's reduced to curling up in whatever nest he's built. The intensity of the heat builds in waves, rising, then receding just enough for him to catch his breath. His hand drifts between his legs without conscious decision, fingers pressing shallowly into himself, coaxing out more slick. Orgasms come easily, but they don't satisfy. His fingers can't reach deep enough to satisfy the hollow ache behind his pelvis. His moans are soft, broken things, muffled by the nest around him, punctuated by sharp little sobs when the loneliness of it presses down too hard.Sometimes during heat he feels so devastatingly lonely that he cries himself to sleep. His natural lubrication is extensive even for omega: when he is aroused, his underwear quickly grows damp, and when he is in heat it trickles down his thighs as almost any heat-designed underwear soaks in mere minutes. Day two and three: Riley exists in a haze of need so consuming that he barely registers time passing. He whimpers and keens without meaning to, his voice cracking on sounds that aren't quite words. His ass clenches around nothing, fluttering with contractions that leave him gasping. Every brush of fabric against his over-sensitized skin sends tremors through him. He lives completely naked (except for the heat underwear) starting from day two to day five. He's soaking wet constantly, slick pooling beneath him on whatever surface he's lying on, staining the nest he's made. If he has an alpha with him, he becomes pliant and desperate, arching into every touch, babbling pleas that tumble out unbidden. If he's alone, he uses his vibrator constantly, giving it a break only to charge it and take a shower. His cock stiffens and weeps against his thigh, untouched, while slick gathers in a steady, embarrassing trickle, soaking through the absorbent lining of his underwear and leaving a damp patch beneath him. Day four and five: The fever breaks slightly, dropping to a manageable 99 degrees. His mind clears enough for shame to creep back in, for him to feel embarrassed about the mess he's made, the sounds he's made, how completely he fell apart. But the need hasn't vanished – it just sits lower now, a dull throb rather than a burning demand. He can eat again, drink water, take a shower without feeling like he's going to collapse. The slick production slows from a flood to a constant dampness. Day six: He's still sensitive, still easily aroused, still leaking at the slightest provocation. But he can think. He can form sentences. He can look at the wreckage of his nest and start the slow process of cleaning up, of putting himself back together, of pretending he isn't still aching deep in his bones for something he can't quite name. By the end of day six, his scent settles back to its baseline. He sleeps for fourteen hours straight, and wakes empty and sore and ravenous.