#is that normal and weird enough for me to be me but also be gas station professional

[seungfl0wer]

*𝐵𝒶𝓇 𝐵𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝓎*

Pairing: Biker!Minho x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, Oral (M), Outdoors Sex, Unprotected, Pull out game (wow not a Creampie? What is this?) think that’s it. Sorry for any mistakes or missing warnings

-🖤

Minho was a regular at your bar, he always came in sitting away from everyone. He kept to himself however always flirted with you. It was cute, he was cute. However you were in a relationship.

“So gonna let me take you for a ride beautiful?” He’d ask.

“I don’t know, let me ask my boyfriend” you’d tease back.

This is how it always went, he never pressured you. Never did anything to make it feel weird. He was always respectful. Today when he came in he asked you like normal but when you responded he was taken back.

“So you ready for that ride today?” He’d said wiggling his eyebrows.

“I get off in 30” you said smiling but acting like you were cleaning the counter.

He looked at you puzzled for a second “wait really?” He asked.

“Yeah, unless you’re to chicken now since I said yes” you’d teased.

“What about your boyfriend?” He asked.

You pointed to a booth, a man who was tongue deep with a woman. “Looks like I don’t have one anymore” you shrugged.

His eyes went wide “I’ll kick his ass that little-“ he started as he got up.

“Don’t bother, he’s not even worth it. He’s dumb enough to come here. Out of all places” you laughed.

Minho was almost confused on how much you didn’t care. Maybe it was something that was coming for a long time. Or maybe it was the fact after seeing this you lost any feeling you had for him when you saw him cheating. Either way Minho wasn’t gonna waste the opportunity. Not when he’s found you attractive for so long.

He stayed at the bar like normal staring at you a little harder than he normally did. When your shift was up he handed you his helmet telling you he’d rather have you protected than him. When you walked out with him your ex got up realizing you were here today. “Y/n!” He yelled. He ran outside after the two of you as you got on the back of Minhos bike.

“What the hell are you doing!” He said walking towards you.

“Sorry I don’t date cheaters” you say with a wave as Minho revved his engine. You wrapped your arms around him giving him butterflies. Before you knew it he was speeding off. It felt freeing. You’d missed so many opportunities to do this and for what? A cheater?

You held onto Minho tightly as he tuned to pull off into a gas station. He tapped your head to take off the helmet. “I gotta give you a little run down real quick.” When you nodded he continued. “So turns you gotta move your body with mine ok? Gotta move the weight with the bike. You can hold onto the small handles on the back too. Also if you keep squeezing me like that we are gonna have a problem” he said his tone teasing with that last part.

You blushed a bit but everything right now felt exciting. You were definitely gonna test the waters. When you got back in the road you let your hands slip lower. Letting them rest on thighs. You felt his body tense a bit before relaxing into your touch. You took it as a sign moving them up more until they were inches away from his crotch.

You couldn’t hear anything but he let out a sigh his cock growing harder by the minute. He saw a sign for a hiking trail turning onto the road knowing no one would be there at this time. When he pulled in you were a bit confused taking off your helmet to look at him. “You gonna murder me out here?” You joked.

“Oh totally, definitely didn’t pull off cause of someone’s hands.” He teased back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you said innocently.

He turned your body on the bike making sure you wouldn’t fall. Putting the stand down before pulling your body to his. You could feel how hard he was against you. “I told you we’d have a problem didn’t I?” He said with a smirk.

He put his hand under your chin your faces inches away from one another’s. Neither of you moved for a few seconds before you broke the silence “you gonna kiss me or just keep staring” you said. The smirk that spread across his face was enough to make you wet. God was he ever so hot. He wrapped your legs around him as he kissed you deeply. His lips were as soft as they looked, they felt like little pillows. He tasted like the alcohol he was drinking with a hint of mint from his gum.

His hand came down to your waist as he grinned his cock into you. You let out a soft moan into the kiss letting his tongue slide in. He kissed you with such need before pulling away slightly “god I’ve wanted you for so long” he said almost desperately.

“I’ve actually had a- recurring dream of you” you admitted.

“Yeah? Tell me”

“You sat on your bike while use my mouth” you said a bit shyly.

He stared at you like you just said the hottest thing in the world to him “let’s make it a reality then” he said moving away from you to get into position. He slipped his pants down a small bit letting his painfully hard cock finally spring forward. Your mouth almost watered at the sight of him.

You inched yourself closer to him kissing the tip of his cock. Slowly licking it before taking him back your throat. His hands gripped at your head before pushing back as far as he could. “Gonna let me use this pretty mouth of yours?” He asked. You nodded looking up at him with soft eyes. Ugh how were you so fucking hot he thought to himself. He fucked your mouth slowly quickly getting lost in the feeling. “Fuck you’re taking me so well beautiful” he groaned. He was using your mouth like a flesh light. Fucking into it a little rougher now “fuck- fuck-“ he moaned pulling himself from you.

“Come here” he said positioning you on his bike. He had you bent over the seat. He slipped your pants down just enough. Before moving the tip of his cock up and down your now soaked folds. “All this for me?”

“Yes- all for you” you groaned.

He wasted no time before slowly pushing into you. His body almost trembled at the feeling of your warm walls sucking him in. He gripped at your thighs as he pushed into you fully cock hitting your most sensitive spots. “Y/n fuck- you- ah- feel so good” he moaned out.

You gripped at the bike as he pounded into you the sounds of sex and moans filing the woods that surrounded you. His hand left your hip coming around to play with your clit. He rubbed circles around it, it was like he knew your body already. “Beautiful I’m sorry- I’m not gonna last- ah- fuck-“ he moaned out.

“It’s ok- ah- I’m- I’m close too” you moaned back.

“Cum with me- please- shit I’m- I’m so close” he said his thrust becoming sloppier and sloppier.

His fingers found your weak spot moving over it making your body shake. “I’m- cumming!” You screamed your orgasm creeping up on you faster than expected. Your walls tightened as you came making him pull out cumming on the ground below him. “Fuck- fuck-“ he moaned.

He pulled your body to his holding you tightly against him. “Are you ok?” He asked breathily.

“Mhm. Just. A little cold” you said back.

With no hesitation he took off his leather jacket wrapping it around you. “How about we go back to my place? We can.. cuddle” he said with a shy smile.

“That sounds perfect”

After that day Minho came to pick you up from work every night. Finally making it official after a week. He even scared your ex away that tried showing up at the bar after you blocked him. You wished you did this way sooner but he was finally yours now and he wouldn’t let you go even if you wanted.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Danny the Guy Who Won't Die

He lives in Gotham, and he is just A Guy. Nothing weird about him, he's just there to study/work/help Lady Gotham to lift her curse/on vacation with Sam. Point is, he is not there to cause trouble and there's no GIW on his tail. Just a dude living his (after)life.

And Gotham, being Gotham, still finds a way to be annoying. There are mugging attempts, robbery, Rogues running around. Only Danny really doesn't want to deal with any of it.

Now there's a dilemma. If he uses his powers to fight, it will sooner or later come to Bats' attention. And if he fights as a human, it will also alert some of the Bats since he doesn't really do a great job at keeping his power levels low. Not to mention the fact he is really not enthusiastic about accidentally punching someone hard enough he sends them to a hospital.

What does he do instead? He pulls the 'I guess I'll die' act.

So every time he is attacked, he just plays dead. The mugger shot him in the chest? He falls down and stops breathing. Caught up in the middle of a Poison Ivy attack? Skewers himself on the vine and goes lax. Scarecrow's Fear Gas? Very dramatically chokes himself and plays a corpse. He makes sure to disappear before any ambulances arrive later, and it all goes well for a few months - he is just a casualty, who cares, really - until one day, he runs into that same mugger who shot him in the chest a while ago.

The man does a double take. Danny doesn't notice - he's been mugged so many times, who has the brain capacity to remember all of those fuckers. But the rumor goes out anyway.

A guy-who-won't-die. It's more of a city legend, really, and the Bats don't give it much thought since, well, it sounds stupid and not very important. A rumor of some man who was shot dead and then showed up like nothing happened? Yeah, it's probably because the mugger didn't check if he was actually dead. That happens. Maybe it wasn't even the same man, Gotham is a big city. If anything, hey, at least that was one less casualty? That's a good thing.

That is, until one day, they show up to Joker's hostage situation and witness the clown screaming at one of the hostages. He is so enraged he is shaking, spit flying out of his mouth, and, contrary to the usual Joker's evil sneers and maniacal laughter, he seems just... furious. But, like, the normal-human-level furious. The 'I just lost the last ounce of patience with you' furious.

"Don't you look away from me, you think I don't remember you?! Na-ah, I do. You were the one I drowned in the shark tank last week! And you were the one run through the chainsaw trap two weeks before that! And you were in the guillotine!!! I saw your fucking head get deattached from your body, how the fuck are you here again?!"

And the guy he is screaming at just looks at him, confused and incomprehensive.

"Um, I'm pretty sure I'd remember getting my head cut off, you know? So, err, wrong guy."

"Wrong guy my fucking ass-"

Joker is so distracted by his screaming match that it makes it almost too easy for the Bats to fight him down and drag to Arkham. Yet, a few of them get just a bit suspicious.

Now, imagine all the shenanigans when they try keeping a watch on Danny the Won't Die Guy.

[milo-is-rambling]

What is a professional but no bra but casual enough but but professional enough but has some personality outfit to talk to a manager at a 24 hour gas station about a job

[gunnrblze]

Silly/stupid/sweet domestic living headcannons for the Ghost Boys

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Hesh

-watches you sleep in the mornings before you wake up. not creepily so, he just likes seeing you so relaxed and peaceful

-takes a ridiculous amount of time in the bathroom for various reasons. not even in a weird/sexual manner, just fuckin lingers in there like a teenage girl primping her hair

-enjoys sweeping for no reason. will sweep again even if one of you already has, very clean man

Logan

-sits on counter tops regularly, doesn’t care that he’s 6’0 & built like a brick wall. if he fits, he sits

-has the time management skills of a goldfish. “I’m coming to bed in 15 minutes” half an hour later and he’s building a Lego set?

-enjoys watching your skincare routines and will silently beg for you to slather the shit on his face too. eventually he’ll ask directly but until then he just gives totally subtle puppy dog eyes

Elias

-has a recliner he’s bonded with in the living room like the old coot he is. and you’ll never talk him out of getting rid of it

-has bought you a pair of house slippers to match his. yours are probably cuter but he does secretly want to at least coordinate

-will loiter when you’re doing any kind of hobby/activity. doesn’t necessarily want to join, but will stand behind you and watch you play video games/craft/bake/etc

Merrick

-terrible farts. that’s it. wear a gas mask tbh

-snores so loud that you have to wear earplugs sometimes. doesn’t help that he likes to cuddle at night so you can quite literally feel him vibrating against you. best cuddler though

-has a decanter full of whiskey on his bedside table. not even a big drinker or anything, no, that’s just decoration to him cause he’s distinguished

Keegan

-asks you to help shave his beard, both because he gets lazy but also he wants to be pampered. “You do it better” he’ll insist

-secretly enjoys you having to ask for help with little things around the house. he loves ‘being a man’ for you. does not matter your gender

-sleeps on one old, flat, mangy pillow. it may or may not even have a case on it. you can try to get him to return to civilization and use a normal one but it’ll be difficult

Kick

-sings loudly in the shower on purpose. maybe it’s to make you laugh, maybe it’s to get you in the bathroom long enough to convince you to join him. depends on the day

-uses so many seasonings when he cooks that he sneezes a bunch. wears his mask sometimes to just prevent it all together

-whines for neck/back rubs cause he’s so sore. insists he’ll return the favor but not before he falls asleep on you

Rorke

-loves you sitting on his lap anytime of day. watching tv, eating breakfast, etc etc? he’ll perch you up on his thighs regardless, doesn’t matter to him

-grunts every time he stands up like the old man he is. “knees ain’t what they used to be”, “gahdamn, backs killin me” are frequent phrases

-constantly turning the thermostat down to make it colder, can’t stand the heat from outside getting in. insists it’s not that cold and only relents when you start to shiver

Ajax

-puts animal planet/nature docs on to fall asleep. says he just wants to watch something more relaxed before bed but he never turns it off

-very anal about shoes being taken off at the front door. will bitch and moan if shoes get past the foyer while on someone’s feet

-like your mother on a Saturday morning, is up at the ass crack of dawn listening to Celine Dion while cleaning

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

omg girl pretty please was perfect, need a part two with more spice

here it is, with a lot more spice, so be warned! 🔞

pretty please | pablo gavi [part 2]

🧁 synopsis: Pablo and you decide to turn your friendly casual hook-ups into a "no-strings-attached" arrangement – it sounds like the perfect plan: easy, fun, and uncomplicated. If only he weren’t so annoyingly impossible. tags: friends with benefits, banter, dirty talking, smut. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) (around 3k words)

you can read the first part here

Your friends are spilling out of cars, shouting directions, arguing about who almost missed the turn, and debating who owes who gas money. You climb out of the backseat of your friend’s car, smoothing down your dress as you walk toward the restaurant.

Pablo is leaning against the wall near the door, arms crossed like he’s trying to blend in. But the second you step out, his eyes lock on you, and he starts making a beeline straight for you.

“Hey, what’s with the dress?” he asks, his voice sharp enough to cut through the parking lot noise.

You blink at him, playing dumb. “What about it?”

He stops just short of crowding you, his eyes dragging over the vintage Versace. His expression gives away nothing, but you can tell he’s trying not to combust. He knows exactly what you’re doing, but you also try to keep your expression neutral, as if you’re completely oblivious to how short, how tight, and how ridiculous this dress is.

You borrowed it from your mom without asking. She would absolutely kill you if she knew, but as long as there aren’t any pictures, you figure you’re safe.

“You know exactly what about it.”

“No, I don’t.” You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “You have something against fashion, Pablito?”

His jaw tightens, and you swear he mutters something under his breath. You’re having too much fun to care.

“Seriously, though,” you continue, twirling the hem of the dress between your fingers. “You don’t think it’s cute?”

“Cute?” He scoffs, looking around to make sure none of your friends are within earshot. “It’s... distracting.”

None of your friends know what the two of you do behind closed doors. To everyone else, you’re just two close friends, which makes it even funnier when they try to set you up.

It’s become a running joke between you and Gavi, the two of you playing along just enough to make them think they’re onto something.

You can’t help but grin. “Distracting for who?”

“For me,” he hisses, glaring at you like it’s your fault.

“Oh, well, I didn’t realize I had to run my wardrobe choices by you.” You shrug, pretending to think. “Maybe next time I’ll wear something really distracting.”

“Don’t even –”

“Come on, Pablito,” you cut him off, grabbing his wrist and tugging him toward the entrance. “People are waiting, and you’re being weird. Let’s go.”

His steps falter, but he follows, muttering as he lets you pull him along. “I’m not being weird.”

“Relax,” you say, turning to flash him a grin. “If it’s really bothering you, maybe you should sit on the other side of the table.”

He stops walking, staring at you like you’ve just personally challenged him to a duel. “Not a chance.”

“Suit yourself,” you sing, swinging open the restaurant door. Behind you, you hear him mutter something unintelligible – probably about how impossible you are – but he’s already following you in, like he always does.

part 2

Your group takes up the long table near the back and dinner starts out fine. Pablo, for reasons only he knows, has stationed himself at the far end of the table, so far away from you it feels intentional.

You figure it probably is.

It’s almost impressive, the way he’s managed to talk and gesture like everything’s normal, all while sneaking glances at you every few seconds. You know because you’ve been doing the exact same thing – watching him out of the corner of your eye as he fidgets with his glass, rubs the back of his neck, and very clearly struggles to keep his attention on the conversation in front of him.

You’re not trying to make things harder for him. Well... not exactly. Teasing him is fun, and you didn’t realize that was part of the deal when you started this whole “friends with benefits” arrangement. Apparently, it is, and it’s working better than you could’ve imagined.

The dress helps, of course.

By the time your friends start debating dessert orders, you notice Pablo’s grip on his fork is a little too tight. His jaw keeps ticking, and his eyes haven’t left you in what feels like minutes.

Then, out of nowhere, he blurts, “Oh, we need to go.”

The entire table falls silent, everyone looking at him in confusion.

“What?” one of your friends asks.

Pablo’s eyes are glued to you, panic flickering in them like he didn’t think this through. “We have that... thing,” he says, gulping hard. “With your brother.”

You nearly choke on your drink. His eyebrows are doing that wild thing they do when he’s embarrassed, and it takes everything in you not to burst out laughing on the spot.

“Right,” you say smoothly, nodding. “Thanks for reminding me, Pablito.” You grab your bag, standing up with practiced calm. “Sorry, guys, we’re leaving. Can’t be late.”

Your friends barely react. You and Pablo leaving early isn’t exactly unusual – you’ve been practically glued at the hip since you met.

You pay your share of the check, wave goodbye, and make it all the way to his car before the composure you’ve been holding onto snaps.

As soon as the doors shut, you burst out laughing.

“With my brother?” you wheeze, clutching your stomach. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

Pablo glares at you, his ears turning pink. “Don’t.” His voice is low, trying for roughness, but it only makes you laugh harder.

“Oh my God, you looked like you were going to pass out.”

“I said don’t.” He leans back in his seat, covering his face with his hands, but you can see the faintest hint of a grin breaking through. “I can’t believe you did that.” 

You blink at him, “Did what?”

He scoffs before turning to glare at you. “You spent the entire dinner giving me that look.”

“What look?” you ask, trying not to grin.

His jaw tightens, and for a second, he looks like he regrets saying anything. But then he mutters, “The look you have when you want to... you know.”

You burst out laughing, loud and uncontrollable as his ears turn pink.

“You’re insane!” you manage between laughs. “That’s totally a projection. You were the one who kept looking over at me.”

“Whatever,” he snaps, looking back at the road as he starts the car. “I’m taking you to mine.”

You’re still grinning, leaning your head back against the seat. “And what are we doing at your place, Pablo?”

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, and the smirk creeping onto his face says it all. “I don’t know,” he says casually, his tone a perfect imitation of innocence. “Play video games, maybe. That’s what we do, right?”

“Right,” you say, biting your lip to hold back another laugh. 

He’s not saying what he really wants, but he doesn’t have to. And the way his hand taps restlessly on the steering wheel tells you he’s not going to hold out much longer.

part 3

His bedroom door clicks shut behind you, and before you can even process what’s happening, Pablo is dropping to his knees.

“What are you doing?” you blurt out, genuinely taken aback.

He doesn’t answer right away, his hands already gliding down the sides of your thighs. His head tilts up briefly and you can see the faint flush creeping over his face. It’s not shame, it’s desire.

You’re tempted to say something snarky, to keep up the teasing game you started at dinner, but the way he looks at you – half-lidded, feverish – makes the words catch in your throat.

When his lips press against the curve of your leg, just above your knee, you feel your breath hitch. He trails soft kisses down, his touch so careful it sends shivers up your spine. 

“Pablo,” you say again, but this time it comes out quieter.

Still, he doesn’t respond, his hands sliding down to your ankles. When he finally reaches your feet, he pauses, looking up at you as if asking for permission – or maybe just enjoying the way you’re completely at his mercy.

“You’re so dramatic,” you mutter, trying to sound unaffected.

He smirks, the flush deepening on his cheeks as he carefully slides one of your heels off, then the other. “And you’re a brat,” he says, like it’s a compliment.

You’d almost feel bad for teasing him earlier. Almost.

But the way he’s looking at you now? Yeah, you don’t feel sorry at all.

Gavi stands up and you raise an eyebrow at him when he takes you completely by surprise. Before you can react, he hooks an arm around your waist and manhandles you up like you weigh nothing.

“Pablo!” you yelp, your legs kicking lightly in protest as he hauls you toward the bed.

“What?” he says, laughing as he effortlessly shifts you in his arms. 

“Put me down!” you demand, though the smile on your face betrays your annoyance.

“Okay,” he says, plopping you unceremoniously onto the mattress. You bounce once and he doesn’t follow immediately. Instead, he steps back, his dark eyes scanning over you. His head tilts slightly, his brow furrowing.

“You’re… hot,” he says finally.

You blink up at him, “You’re only noticing now?”

He moves closer, his hands skimming over the fabric of your dress. His fingers linger at the hem, then drift to the exposed skin of your thighs, your shoulders, the back of your neck – everywhere the dress doesn’t cover.

“No, I’m serious,” he says, his voice lower now, his focus entirely on you.

Before you can respond, his hands slide up to cup your face, holding you firmly, like he needs you to hear him. His thumbs brush against your cheekbones.

“You look really fucking hot right now,” he says, and there’s nothing teasing about the way he says it. 

You open your mouth to reply, but the words won’t come. You’re too distracted by the way he’s looking at you. So you don’t even think about it – you just grab his shirt and pull him down, kissing him hard. The kind of kiss that friends definitely shouldn’t be sharing. It’s reckless, fueled by everything he’s made you feel tonight, by all the times he’s told you not to overthink this, not to complicate things.

But this? This is the definition of complicated, and you don’t care.

At first, he freezes, like the force of your kiss has stunned him. Then his hands tighten on your face, and he kisses you back even harder.

His lips move against yours with a kind of desperation that makes your head spin, and his fingers slide into your hair, anchoring you to him. 

When he finally breaks the kiss, his hands are still cradling your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks like he can’t quite let go. His gaze drops, taking in every inch of you, and when he looks back up, there’s a determined gleam in his eyes.

“I’m not even taking the dress off,” he says, his voice low and sure as he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

You giggle, shaking your head at him. “We can’t! My mom would kill me if I screwed up this dress.”

But Gavi just shakes his head, completely unfazed. “I’ll buy her another one.”

His shirt is off now, tossed somewhere behind him, and you’re caught between laughing at his confidence and being completely swept up in it.

“Oh, really?” 

“Really,” he replies, his tone leaving no room for argument. His hands find your waist again, pulling you closer as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin.

You shake your head again, but this time it’s less about disbelief and more about the fact that you’re already giving in. 

He slides your lacy underwear off with deliberate care, and when he notices they match the color of your dress, he pauses for a beat, his eyes lingering. The corner of his mouth twitches before he does something you don’t expect – he places them right next to your face, on the pillow you’re lying on, his grip on them firm.

You laugh, the sound bubbling out. “You’re so weird.”

His lips twitch into a smirk, but he doesn’t let it slide. “Stop calling me weird,” he mutters, biting your ear in retaliation before trailing down to your neck.

You shiver under his attention, but then he pulls back to focus on his next task – taking off his pants with a kind of urgency that’s kind of endearing. When he’s finally stripped nude, he stands in front of you, hands on his hips like he’s waiting for a round of applause.

“Tell me I’m hot,” he demands.

You shake your head, biting back another laugh. “What? No way.”

“Why not?” he asks, feigning offense as he moves closer. “Come on, say it.”

He leans in, peppering kisses across your cheek and jaw, his persistence both ridiculous and charming.

“You think your annoying best friend is hot, don’t you?” he whispers into your ear, his tone dropping just enough to make your pulse race. “And you want to sleep with me, don’t you?”

“Stop projecting your feelings onto me,” you argue, but your voice is breathy, already undone by his proximity. Your words would be more effective if you weren’t already moaning under his touch, two of his fingers going in and out inside of you, the softest sounds escaping you as his lips find yours again.

The room is filled with your unsteady breaths and the sounds you can’t quite keep contained, each one louder than the last. But then, out of nowhere, Gavi stills completely, his movements halting. He grabs your chin, tilting your face toward his. His expression is serious, annoyingly composed.

“I’m not letting you finish until you tell me I’m hot,” he says, like this is a perfectly reasonable demand to make at a time like this.

You glare at him, every nerve in your body screaming at the unfairness of it all. But it’s too late for you – you’ve already given up.

“You’re hot, okay?” you snap, your voice desperate and unfiltered. “You’re the hottest guy I’ve ever been with, so please, please just fuck me.”

For a second, he looks almost touched. And then, to your complete horror, he has the audacity to laugh.

“Jesus! Calm down, I’ll do it,” he says, his grin breaking through his mock seriousness.

You see red, slapping his hand away from your chin in pure frustration. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but before you can say more, he’s fingering you again, his hands steady and assured, and everything else fades away.

His hands and lips and teeth start exploring every inch of you with a passion that feels almost primal. He’s relentless, his mouth all over your skin, lingering on the parts of you he knows will make your breath hitch. The delicate fabric of your dress shifts under his hands, pushed and pulled as he reveals more of you, your breasts, your cunt, as he eats you out with a feral hunger.

You cum twice, his name falling from your lips. By the time he finally lifts his head from between your legs, his smile is smug, proud.

“I’ll give you what you asked for now,” he says, “What you begged me for.”

“Shut up,” you snap, your voice unsteady.

He laughs, brushing a strand of damp hair from your face. “You’re so mean to me,” he murmurs, shifting you gently to your side. His voice softens further as he positions himself behind you. “I always give you what you want, don’t I?”

You roll your eyes, your tone sharp even as your breath hitches. “Hurry up with the condom.”

“Do you want to put it on?”

“Yes…” you mutter, your fingers brushing against his as you take it from him.

When he finally enters you, it’s consciously slow, his lips pressing softly to your shoulder, shushing you as your breathing grows uneven again. “It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice soothing as his pace quickens, the rhythm you find together is absolutely perfect.

As you sense him nearing his peak, you lean back slightly, your voice quiet but sure. “Cum in my mouth.”

Pablo groans loudly, a mix of gritted words spilling out. “Fuck, fuck.” He pulls away quickly, his breathing ragged. “That’s what you wanted all night, wasn’t it?” He’s breathless, his words edged with laughter. “You wanted to taste, wanted to – fuck, to eat my cum, fuck – nasty girl.”

He’s hasty and shaky now, completely lost in pleasure as his member fits perfectly in your mouth. He closes his eyes, moaning loudly as he finishes. In his hurry, he becomes careless, and a few drops land on your face, his eyes widen. Then, without missing a beat, he leans in to clean it off, his tongue brushing over your skin with an exaggerated gentleness that makes you giggle.

“What are you doing?” you laugh, but he shushes you, his focus entirely on his task.

“Fixing my mess,” he mutters, his lips trailing up to yours. He kisses you fiercely, sucking your tongue. It’s messy and uncoordinated, full of laughter and half-mumbled complaints.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes rake over you, and he groans dramatically. “Mierda, I’m hard again.”

You laugh, pushing at his chest. “You’re too horny!”

“Me?” he scoffs, grabbing your wrists and pinning you down effortlessly. “You came three times, and I didn’t hear you complaining then.”

You roll your eyes, already teasing him with your touch, one hand on his erect member, caressing him. “I’m tired now,” you say, your voice playful even as you keep up your antics.

“Tired?” he repeats, “No, no way. Give me another one.”

You stretch out lazily on the bed, making yourself comfortable. “Fine,” you say with a grin. “But I’m not doing any work this time. You’re on top.”

Gavi groans again, rolling his eyes. But the smile on his face says he’s more than ready to oblige.

[imagionationstation]

I don't know if you read the comics they put out for the 2k12 series but there's a lot of brother interaction in there which is cute and possibly analytical. They're not technically "canon" (I think the Panini comics were intended to be 'side-stories' at least) but I believe they were written to be true to character. There's stuff like Leo immediately giving in to Mikey's puppy dog eyes to goof off/watch a magic show, Raph blatantly lying to make himself look dumb for Donnie's sake after he(Donnie) creates a pheromone spray for April, Mikey stepping up to focus and protect his brothers when he's the only one unaffected by depression gas, the boys all riding each other down giant piles of garbage, Leo needing to create a "B- team" to rescue his brothers, etc. There's less focus on combat too. Also a Raph-Donnie focused comic which is nice, that dynamic didn't get enough attention in the show.

I have read many of these comics on a totally legit website and still go back to reread them to this day. But because of their questionable direct connection to canon, I normally leave them out of analysis.

THOUGH THE FACT THAT I’M NOT RECALLING SOME OF THESE SCENES TELLS ME THAT I’M MISSING CRITICAL INFORMATION

So yah I’ll be rereading every comic I can get my hands on now ✌️

I absolutely ADORE a LOT of what they do in the comics and just the way that Donnie is drawn sometimes is so soft and cute and jkgjgkgj

Look at him with his little insecurities and fears.

We must pat him on the head and then send him out into a world of pain and suffocating traumas that he’ll never get over!

He should freak out more. He deserves it <3

Oooh and him and April hang out it’s not weird it’s SO PRECIOUS

Raph blatantly lying to make himself look dumb for Donnie's sake after he(Donnie) creates a pheromone spray for April

Mikey stepping up to focus and protect his brothers when he's the only one unaffected by depression gas

Also a Raph-Donnie focused comic which is nice, that dynamic didn't get enough attention in the show.

✨✨✨I agree I agree I agree I agree! ✨✨✨

But of course, we cannot forget to focus on the important things like:

Mikey adopting a Footbot

April O’Reporter

…This Kraang!

Splinter expanding his horizons

And the long-awaited turtlesitting episode but reverse

And so forth and so forth, you get the idea

[octuscle]

Hey im really confused and need some help from suport.

So im a male actor/ model and things have been really tough in the industry lately with the strikes and all so i was over the moon when a clothing brand reached out to me. But the wierd thing is this brand does not really catter to ny estetic. I usualy get jobs from high end luxury brands, but this company is a street wear blue collar clothing brand. I went to a meeting and gave me a out fit of a thick t-shirt, carpenters jeans, a flannle shirt, work boots, and a jock strap. All of them a size or more to bog for me. They also gave me a dinged up old cell phone. Then then told me to get comferable in thecloths and show up to the abandand site the next morning at the crack of dawn for the shoot. Im feeling realky weird and hungeryer then i ever been in my life. Please help.

The bag with the clothes for the photo shoot is in the trunk of your VW Beetle overnight. Cute little car. It's already got a few years under its belt. But still drives well. And that's all you can afford at the moment. You also need the money from this job. Otherwise you'll have to part with this car too. That's why you're so excited about the job. You're not sleeping very well. And normally you would go for an hour's run after getting up. But today you're hungry after a restless night. A huge appetite. You make yourself a large portion of scrambled eggs and bacon. You didn't even know you had so many eggs in the house. Yeah, that was good. Now the day can begin. You put on a white button-down shirt, plain Calvin Klein jeans and white sneakers and walk to your car at 05:00 in the morning. Yes, the Mustang is a bit rusty. But it's a classic. It suits you. It makes you feel a bit like James Dean.

Shit, you've left your iPhone in the apartment. But there's still the old Cat phone in the bag with the clothes. You type in the address and turn on the speaker. Looking at your hands, you're annoyed that you haven't had a manicure. You have hands like a construction worker.

One disadvantage of your Mustang is that it consumes an incredible amount of gas. You have to refuel halfway to the photo shoot. And take a shit. Hehehe, if you eat a lot in the morning, you have to shit a lot. And you're hungry again. It's almost 07:00 already. So you fill up at the next service station and then eat a burger with a large portion of fries. Your white T-shirt has a few ketchup stains and slips out of your old 501 over your belly, but now you feel good again. Your cell phone says there are only 50 miles to go. A stone's throw for your mighty pickup. The only thing you need before you arrive on the set of the shoot are cigars. Fuck, you left yours at home too. Luckily, you pass a tobacconist's just before you leave for the abandoned industrial site. The photo shoot is scheduled for two days, so ten cigars should be enough.

You are a star model in the workwear scene. You're actually a crane operator, but you can always use a little extra money. Besides, there's usually a lot to fuck on the set of the shoots. Photographers, marketing hipsters and the effeminate professional models love your huge cock. Your cigar is tiny in comparison.

[imagine-shenanigans]

hey guys i haven't even had a chance to see atsv yet i just know spoilers and i want this man biblically, i'm talking carnally, i want him in a way that hurts feminism, i want to bring the whole damn movement down so i can be his stupid little housewife and raise his damn kids so i can watch him be happy and then also get railed into losing every brain cell i have

anyway here's some abo headcanons, they include spoilers for the movie/his backstory probably because idk what is and isnt a spoiler because i havent seen it yet.

also this one works a bit differently than my normal layout, it goes SFW and then dips NSFW and ends with more SFW but they're all clearly labeled!

Reader is written gender neutral with they/them and the nsfw section has afab and amab sections, but since I'm Nonbinary and AFAB that's probably how it's gonna come off for most of the reading, just to warn you!

Miguel O'Hara x Reader N/SFW ABO Headcanons

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5k words

Content Warnings (tell me if I miss any): Dubcon, ABO, Obsessive Behavior, Toxic behavior, Omega reader, Alpha Miguel

For these headcanons we're gonna exist in a weird liminal space where Gabi is like, five to six or so and he brought her home with him or some shit idk man I just think he's a hot single father anwyay, also this is assuming omega reader because i think it's hot

if anyone wants a version where Miguel follows more canon and he still lost his kid and came back you're free to request that too i love that shit, just for this specific one i wanna raise his damn kids so-

SFW

Alpha, big alpha energies.

Miguel is the type of guy who's pretty obsessive with what he claims as his, I would honestly say borderline yandere vibes without fully delving into it - his mental state in this au/situation is also a lot better since he still has his daughter, so he's genuinely a lot less "feral" than he tends to get without her, even though in this we'll say he did almost lose her.

So when he claims someone, he's going to be damn sure he means it.

This ones a bit of a general headcanon but he doesn't really have a type when it comes to the people he likes, other than he needs someone who's interesting to him. Whether it's because you're hotheaded, or even keeled, whether you're snarky or sweet, he just needs something for his brain to latch onto.

Not a love at first sight guy but he is an "obsession I can't place" kind of guy.

Miguel has really enhanced senses when it comes to scenting, so it takes some damn strong suppressants and scent blockers to completely block him out... which if we're pretending reader here is falling with the abo trope of "hiding being an omega" (which we are because I love tropes) is just what gets him obsessed. Clothing and perfume that masks your scent, suppressants and scent blockers, and a confident attitude are all enough to throw most people off the (forgive my pun) scent.

But not Miguel.

His spider DNA has the animalistic side to it that fucks with his hormones regardless, makes it easier for him to pick up on the pheromones that even most attentive alphas can't, he's damn near a personal lie detector with how smart he is and how attuned he is to what his nose and instincts tell him, even when he's using serums to keep the more feral urges at bay.

He can only get a whiff of you, fainter than most betas, and it drives him fucking insane knowing he can smell something but he can't figure it out. He can't place it, and it nags at his brain. He can smell a whiff of flowers, or sugar, or something undeniably citrus (depending on what you headcanon your own smell to be) but he can't place it and he hates that shit.

Ends up pulling some traditional alpha shit and he can't even help it, starts trying to crowd you until you kick him in the shin or Peter B or Jess shoos him away. He has to figure out what it is, he has to know.

It only gets worse when he brings Gabi in (a babysitter fell through) and you end up butting your way in to play with Gabi and Mayday, delighting in watching them for the day instead of whatever you were supposed to be doing. They're both so cute and sweet.

Gabi smells primarily like cinnamon and a bit like dewey grass - she's not old enough to have presented yet, but her basic scent, unaffected by the secondary gender hormones, is simple and sweet, reminds you of a summer morning.

She takes after her father in that regard - Miguel smells *warm* and a bit musky, like trees and cinnamon and, a bit like a camp fire. A small tinge of oil, when you pick it apart, and you can't tell if its from the lingering scent on his skin after fixing a broken machine nobody else could, or if that's part of his natural scent.

(Mayday smells like marshmallows, and carmel, funnily enough)

When you take care of Gabi and Mayday, your scent lingers on their skin, mixes and twists in a way that Peter B can't notice but Miguel can. It's all he can do not to be a damn freak and pick his baby girl up and sniff her hair to try and figure out why she smells like that (not in a creepy way, to clarify because there are some freaks on here, but in the same way a dog gets baffled by smelling you use a new perfume, or in the way of when you pick your kid up and go "WHY DO I SMELL CANDLES ON YOU WHAT WERE YOU DOING")

He almost can't stand how his head swims when he watches you pick Gabi up and gently throw her up in the air a bit, watching you let her climb onto you while you're distracted just like Mayday does. Soothe her tears when she accidentally breaks a toy because she's still learning to control her super strength.

He doesn't know that he wants you either, not until long after he's already manifested feelings. Doesn't realize how protective he is, doesn't realize how differently he treats you. He doesn't realize he's lingering in your area just long enough to make sure he can fill his nose with the faint scent you give off.

He assumes you're a beta - not that it mattered to him, really. Miguel would just as soon marry another alpha as he would a beta or an omega, as long as it's you.

He doesn't realize what he's doing until he's got a piece of your clothing in his hands, holding it in the dead of night up to his nose. A scarf or a glove or a jacket you'd leant to Gabi during the day and she'd spilled her juice on it and he'd taken it home to wash it.

He can smell his daughter's scent, louder than life, so familiar he could have a handful of pepper thrown at him and he'd still be able to wrap his arms around her and move her out of harm's way in the direst of straits.

And then there's yours, linger, mingling with his daughter's scent, and it's the parent of his child.

It's not, it's not the woman who birthed Gabi, it's not the woman who contributed to making her. It's you, the only other person he ever wants near his child in that capacity. And it's intoxicating. It's infuriating. It's overwhelming because the full breadth of his own emotions is so strong as he realizes what he's been doing. And he can't even tell you because he holds himself to a specific standard, a specific code of ethics, and even though he wants to risk it all just so his hindbrain (both alpha and spider and his own human instincts all mingling in one) can have his little loves all wrapped up in his arms, safe where he can protect them.

He only just has the strength to wash the piece of cloth and return it. It takes everything he has not to cling to it, to make a pretty little nest to protect his family in, webs and pillows and fabric, a basis of protection so you can properly make it your own and -

He controls himself, and returns the scarf the next day, leaving it on your desk because he can't bear to look you in the eyes.

The days struggle by, a stark contrast to his normal snark, to lingering in your space and snorting and rolling his eyes. To being by your side more than he normally is. It's disheartening, it makes you feel rejected, and he knows it.

But he doesn't stop, this tension that can cut through the air lingering. Even Gabi and May notice it, the older girl frowning and the younger fussing when the two of you are in the room together.

And then your heat happens.

(brief bullet point break because there's a limit to how much you can have in one bulleted section on tumblr and I don't remember what it is but I'd rather just break here)

You've been on suppressants and scent blockers for years now. Being in your line of work (whether you headcanon this as a spiderperson version of you, or a different kind of superhero, or a civillian all working in the society) it's necessary. Omegas aren't rare but they're not the majority of the population like betas are. In Nueva York, it's a coin toss if you'll be fought over in the streets like some prize to be won, or if you'll be coddled like a child who can't figure out what's best for them.

It's half safety half preference at this point, from your original universe's standard (before it had burnt to cinders before you), and this one's. Your suit, your meds, and your behavior, they're all meant to mask and confuse.

But you can only make it so long on the prescription you've got, the long-lasting shots that were more reliable than a pill. The scent blockers go first - not by design, but by chance. You'd been giving yourself lower doses since you'd wound up in Nueva York, supplementing it with deodorants and lotions swiped from stores and hospitals that could afford to spare the supplies when you can't buy it covertly. But you'd still been low in comparison to your suppressants.

You shower more frequently, lather yourself with soaps and deodorants and lotions of different scents and ones that have blocking effects, and for the most part it works. You can't quite fool Gabi - too smart, too tuned in to your emotions like her father could be. She's got a sharp nose, and she wrinkles it when she can smell how confusing your scent is. She asks questions, and you can't lie your way out of it, but you are able to bribe her so she's distracted long enough that she forgets the question. Miguel notices, when he picks up Gabi, but he can't quite figure out exactly what's wrong, and you leave so fast (he assumes with the tension that lingers between the two of you) that he can't figure it out.

You're so certain you're in the clear.

But then your shots run out, and even you can't get more without a prescription. And while your health information would never go through Miguel, you know that the medispiders have to go through him or Lyla for any heavy duty things like suppressants, because they have to be resourced more carefully.

And your last doctor, although wildly shady, and incompetent, and operating out of an apartment, was right about one thing - suppressants will rot you from the inside out if you're not careful. If you don't let a natural heat occur, it will only be worse in the long run. (Although you suppose he probably had a greasier, grosser reason for telling you that.)

And rot you from the inside they have - all your natural reactions to a heat, all your normal bodily functions don't work properly, when confronted with something they haven't seen in years. You know within seconds of your suppressants flushing out of your system what's going on. You're still in the pre-heat phase of things, and you feel like you're dying. You aren't, and you know you aren't, but you feel nauseous and feverish and incoherent within an hour tops. Only long enough to let you panic and send a text to Miguel that you can't watch Gabi like you'd planned. That you're going out ad you won't be back awhile. You leave your phone in your room, when you pack your bag and head for the nearest somewhat reputable hotel that you can afford. You brace the door with the dresser, explicit instructions left for the front desk to, under no circumstances, contact you for the next week.

You get an order of pre-made meals to slap into the fridge, water and juice and all sorts of drinks and things shoved haphazardly inside once the bot brings it in through the window. You're barely coherent enough to retain control to crush the landline, rendering it inoperable, before you barricade the rest of the room.

You're definitely not in control when you nest, blankets and pillows and clothing all thrown haphazardly around as you go fully out of your gourd.

You're damn well out of your mind by the time you would have normally realized the card you were using was in Miguel's name.

(another very brief line break in this portion for drama but also so I don't hit any limits)

Miguel is pissed when you leave so suddenly.

Sure, he's been avoiding you, and sure, you aren't actually together, but you're his damn it. You don't know it, and sure, he's not going to acknowledge it out loud until something happens, but you can't just leave him and your child and his child who loves you high and dry like that!

It's laughably easy to find you, to find the hotel you've checked into. He doesn't even wait to figure out the reason you left, he's so quick on his honestly kinda toxic bs.

Gabi is left with Peter B and Jess for a bit, and Miguel is honestly so smug that he finds you so fast. You were so sloppy about it. So quick to leave that even though you left your phone behind, in a moment of clarity, you barely bothered to take back streets. You used his own damn card he'd given you to pay for the hotel for two weeks, and to order food.

If he weren't half out of his mind with concern and anger about how quickly you left, he'd be angry you used the card without asking like you normally did.

(His hind brain purrs with it though, knowing he's provided for you)

He doesn't know what did it. Miguel genuinely doesn't know what he did to earn your ire in such a way, but he can guess. He doesn't think it's how cold he was, in the beginning, but he isn't sure that it's not how he'd warmed up to you. How, when he'd let his guard down without realizing it, that he'd flirted with you. Had that made you uncomfortable? Had every 'innocent' brush against you turned you against him? Certainly, it could be his absence, his sudden coolness and stonewalling. It could be how he refused to look at you, when you were in the room. Tried to hold his breath after he'd realized what he was doing.

He doesn't really listen to Lyla when she tries telling him things. He heard where you where, found out the room, and swiped a key before Lyla could finish talking about vital signs and behaviors. She knows to set his alerts to emergency only for the foreseeable future, because she's figured it out much quicker than he has, and she figures she'll at least spare herself the trouble. Gets Gabi set up with Jess for the night, and is on her way so she doesn't have to deal with what's about to go down.

He's surprised by the dresser in front of the door, when he tries to get in the first time. It's easy for him to move - he just lowers his center of gravity and pushes his way into the room, slamming the door shut before he can inhale.

The hotel room is nice, with a kitchenette and a small entry area with a couch and a television. The bedroom is just tucked out of sight. Exactly what he expected when he'd heard the hotel's name - he'd never been, but he recognized it.

And it's when he inhales, that he realizes why.

Your scent hits him hard and fast, chokingly sweet in the back of his throat in a way that makes his hindbrain roar. His pupils blow wide, and if he didn't have such a strong self control, he'd have torn the damn door off its hinges looking for you.

He remembers, in that moment, why he recognized the hotel. It was one that was best known for its handling of customers in heat and rut.

NSFW INTERLUDE

(We're gonna start with general headcanons and go back into the specifics of the scenario in a sec but it's all relevant fjasdkl;)

Miguel is a Dom-leaning switch, he prefers to be in control as often as possible, regardless of whether he's topping or bottoming. Nine times out of ten, he wants to fuck his partner until they're an incoherent, babbling mess, because he enjoys the power and control it gives him, enjoys the dynamic of it.

As he gets more comfortable with a partner, he's more willing to accept the idea of subbing, enjoying it more when he has someone he trusts behind the wheel, so to speak.

(Because yes, Alphas can be subs too - that's a whole thing I could get into and might if someone asks)

And Miguel, even normally, is already a possessive guy. He's needy, and stakes his claim, and when we're talking about abo Miguel?

Sheeeeeesh

The moment he scents you in the air, the moment it clicks in his brain that you're going through a rut or a heat, it goes straight to his dick.

He damn near loses it, fighting not to tear the door off its hinges as he stalks to your room. Your scent is so strong in the air that even though he knows he should turn around, he still at the very least wants to make sure you're okay. So the sight of you, face down, ass up, fingers pressing into yourself, he almost loses his damn mind.

His pretty little wife/husband/spouse coworker, his crush, is an omega. It's almost too good to be true, and he can feel his fucking fangs extend, his mouth watering as he stares at you. You're too blissed out to even realize he's there, slick dripping down your thighs like a fucking faucet... and his name is on your lips.

He could cum untouched, could die a happy, happy man after seeing this.

He has dignity, and self control though, even as the force of your hit heats him. He's genuinely concerned, a moment later, his instinct to breed to claim tampered down by his need to care.

You cling to him, hazy, feverish, and incoherent. You beg him to claim you, to mark you, to fuck you. Miguel wants to, he does... but he instead kicks his shoes off but otherwise stays fully clothed, his cock so hard it hurts as he grabs the closest bottle of water, and an ice pack, and climbs into your haphazard nest with you. He probably should have left by now, but instead he seats you against him, your back pressed to his chest, and he presses the ice pack to your forehead, ordering you to keep it there as he makes you drink water, sip by sip.

You whine, and beg, and squirm, but you obey.

He fucks you on his fingers, once he's gotten some water into you. Hard and fast, leaving you breathless, tense, until you cum all over his fingers, oversensitive as he fingerfucks you into another one, and another, arms like steel wrapped around your waist as one hand pounds into you, the other wrapped around your dick or circling hard on your clit. It's not enough to genuinely sate your heat, but it's enough to help. And he doesn't trust himself to put his own mouth to use - barely trusts himself to speak, even though most of what he growls into your ear is, strictly speaking, complete and utter nonsense as he's caught in the moment. Every time you cum, he praises you, telling you how good you are for it. How sweet you look, with tears streaming down your face, cumming so well for him.

When there's enough coherency for you to have a conversation (but not coherent enough to be mortified), Miguel is able to get the rough gist of the situation. He really can only piece together that the heat is going to be a strong one, that it came fast, and that you had panicked. There's a confession, to be had there. He agrees to help you through your heat, but only under the condition that you're his.

It's toxic, and of dubious consent at best, but he'll pull as many orgasms out of you as needed to keep you coherent enough to talk to him. He's helped an omega through a heat or two, and he knows what he's doing. He's not exactly clearheaded himself, in making the decision - but he does make sure that this is truly what you want before he proceeds.

When he's sure that it's not just the heat speaking, that you truly do care for him, that you want him to stay even after your heat has subsided, he allows himself to indulge.

Sympathy ruts are common, and it builds slowly inside of him as he indulges in his instincts. Holding you, kissing you, pressing his fingers inside of you over and over and over again until you pass out. He keeps you wrapped up in the nest, adding his shirt to the mix while you sleep, but not trusting himself to completely strip quite yet.

Miguel is an attentive alpha.

(While you sleep, he excuses himself from the nest to call his daughter, to assure her everything will be okay, and he just explains simply that you'd gotten sick, that you needed him for a bit, and that he'd be back once you were feeling better. He promises to call every night, and he works out a schedule with Peter B and Jess in the meantime.)

(When you overhear him, voice so soft, so protective, so gentle, it half makes you want to swoon, and half want to climb on his lap and fuck yourself stupid on his cock until he fills you up so you can give his daughter a sibling.)

This man is going to spend a good majority of his time pre-sympathy rut fucking you open on his fingers and his mouth. He wants to make sure you're ready, wants to make sure he can enjoy this for as long as possible.

By the end of it, he makes sure to fuck you, nice and steady, a hand on your throat and his lips on yours. He makes sure you're nice and coherent for it. He wants to make sure you remember it, when he claims you. When his (fucking horse cock, the dude's packing like ten to twelve inches which is great for my chubby bitches like me) dick fills you up so full that you're almost certain you'll break, hiccupping and sobbing as you keen and wail, the nest below you soaked as he fills you up. His fangs sink into your neck and you cum, right then, his hands grabbing your thighs so hard he's sure it will bruise. He fucks you through your orgasm, knot catching until it slips inside. He rubs your clit/tugs on your dick as he finally knots you, making sure you cum just one more time for me, cariño.

normal Miguel definitely has a claiming and breeding kink, so it's fucking intensified by ten when he's omegaverse Miguel... let alone when the man's subject to his rut. You'll be covered in scratches and bites and hickies by the time you're both coherent enough to function properly again.

Which... for Miguel, is a solid few hours of coherency at a time.

For you? You're only ever coherent in short bursts, and it's like the peak of your heat constantly for almost the full week.

This next bit just mostly borders on nsfw/has some nsfw parts so i'll put it at the end here before going back to sfw

Like I mentioned before, Miguel is a very attentive alpha.

He's going to fuck you seven different ways in an hour with his superhuman stamina, but he's also going to make sure to actually take care of you.

He makes sure you drink electrolytes and water in equal measure, makes sure you eat, and sleep, and he bathes you himself, carrying you into the shower and keeping you pressed against him as he massages your muscles and washes your hair and body with a soft cloth, using completely unscented soaps and shampoos so it doesn't overwhelm you. Presses bandages to your scrapes and bites so you'll heal faster. Cool cloths and ice packs and fever reducing medicine.

He finds he has to bribe you, during this time, even for the most basic tasks like eating and drinking, and he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy having to plug you up with his cock just to get you to eat wasn't hot as hell. The fact that you need him so badly you'd rather forgo basic necessities... it's addicting. Granted, he doesn't actually let you - he's got enough control that he can make sure you're taken care of in all regards.

Back to SFW time!

After your heat itself passes, you're subject to the suppressant sickness that comes with it. Your fever has broken, but you're still nauseous and dizzy and fatigued as your body flushes everything out of your system.

Miguel is beyond pissed when he finds out why you're still sick.

It's reckless to not even have a natural heat once every six months, let alone taking your suppressants so solidly that you hadn't had one in years. If he'd known, he'd have said consequences be damned and would have bitten you the moment he walked through the door, and taken you to the hospital.

He doesn't care how embarrassed you are, when he packs all of your things back up into the sealable bags, and dresses you in his own clothing. He's almost out of his mind when he takes both of you back to HQ - only just remembering to take back corridors to the medic so they can check you over properly.

You've then got two spider people who are pissed, as the medic rants about how dangerous that was, how stupid it was that you did that, instead of just swallowing your pride and letting them help you control things. They order you on house arrest for a full month, to make sure your body can recover properly. No suppressants, no scent blockers (at least the medical kind) for a couple years, and only medicine that's medically necessary, and even then it has to be monitored more carefully.

Miguel lets the Medispider tear you a new one for a moment while he steps into the hallway, giving you privacy and space to figure things out with the doctor while he catches up with Gabi.

When you're done with the Medispider, it's not a question on if you're staying with Miguel or not - you really don't have a choice in the matter, he tells you. When you're recovered, you can decide if you want to move in or not, but until then he was going to personally keep an eye on you.

Gabi, who lacks the complete understanding of the why and the how behind it all, is just glad that the person they've been trying to scheme their father into confessing to is actually going to live with them. (Even if only for about a month.) She grins smugly when she realizes you smell like her dad.

Miguel lets you have pick of the house, when he carries you back to his beautiful, cozy suburban home. He leaves the proper tour up to Gabi, as he carries you both, letting Gabi tell you about everything excitedly. You stay in his bed (you two had claimed each other, and although Miguel does give you the option of your own room... you'd rather die than lose the comfort that comes with being around your mate.)

Miguel cooks properly for you while you stay with him and Gabi.

No more prepackaged meals, he sneers, instead making you chicken noodle soup from scratch, with bone broth and lots of vegetables. Breakfast every morning before he takes Gabi to school, tucks you in to sleep while he pops into the HQ to check on things. He's out of commission from missions while he cares for you, but he still makes sure things go smoothly. He's home by lunch, sometimes bringing you fast food instead of cooking so you can have your fill of a greasy burger or fries or something to sate the part of you that needs something unhealthy and indulgent. Holds you in his lap while you both eat, watching TV on the couch.

He finishes his work and goes on emergency-only mode when it's time to pick up Gabi from school. He tucks you into the passenger seat if you feel up to it, buckling you up himself and pressing a kiss to your lips, even though he doesn't need to. He knows you can buckle yourself up, and lets you do so when you insist, but it makes him happy to know he's taking measures to keep you safe.

He does force you to take a blanket with you, just in case though.

When all three of you get home, he makes dinner, sometimes with Gabi helping him, sometimes you, sometimes just himself. He has a pretty wide range of foods he ends up making, but it's primarily because they're foods he likes, or Gabi likes, and he learned to make them. He's a good cook, overall.

It's the best work-life balance he's had in a long time.

When you're better, he all but begs you to stay.

And god, how could you say no to him?

(Also for those who it matters for, if you do end up pregnant from the Heat Adventures he obviously loves kids and would love one with you, but if you don't feel ready/don't want to have kids other than Gabi, he absolutely respects it, and will talk about options with you. Granted, he'll be disappointed, but at the end of the day it's not something he CAN'T move past. Discusses birth control options with you almost immediately when the two of you get intimate again.)

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere hybrid twins? Would they be conjoined since their both part Zippleback. . . But them x reader :>

Httyd

I suppose this AU didn't have enough body horror, huh? Sorry for the long wait... here's some HCs. It's mostly just me playing around with the idea.

Yandere! Zippleback Hybrid! Twins Concept

(Ruffnut and Tuffnut)

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Body horror, Manipulation, Possessive/Protective behavior, Stalking, Violence, Murder implied (On accident), Kidnapping, Mentions of hermaphroditism, Dubious companionship/relationship.

Honestly, no matter how I look at this, they would have to be conjoined, wouldn’t they?

Both of them share a body due to being a Zippleback hybrid.

I don't really have an official design in mind... but it's probably disturbing.

They no doubt have the abilities of a normal Zippleback.

They have the sparking ability, they have the gas ability, and they're volatile in ability and emotions.

Like normal Zipplebacks they often fight with one another.

I also imagine taming them would be similar to the original dragon, too.

Perhaps like the Hiccup hybrid fic... you save them from being hunted?

Which you know what that means... life debt.

Until they can return the favor... they'd both be obsessive about you, even as a hybrid.

They'd be loyal towards you.

Even more so if you provide them with attention and/or they view you as a mate.

I imagine the twins are an interesting case.

Their heads retain their genders.

So I imagine they as a hybrid are... what's the word... a hermaphrodite?

Do with that info as you will.

They are probably the oddest hybrid I can think of in this AU.

Well... any Zippleback hybrid would be, actually....

You probably came across them injured, the two bickering bitterly with one another as they try to fly again.

When you reveal yourself, a normal human... they panic.

Are you going to hunt them!?

They can easily nuke this area, don't come any closer!

Yet... you don't harm them.

Instead you offer food and try to get close enough to offer supplies.

Well... after that the two can't seem to leave their new human alone.

Honestly... conversation is a bit weird at first, but you begin to see them as an ally of some sort.

You learn the female head is named Ruffnut and the male head is named Tuffnut.

They are a unique Zippleback hybrid with mischievous tendencies.

They see you as a friend since you helped them.

In fact, it's in their nature to be loyal towards you... all due to what you've done for them.

Despite them being classified as "intersex", they can still see you as a mate if you want.

I find it funny if both head have two different opinions of you.

Maybe one views you as a friend while the other wants to court you?

Awkward, isn't it?

Even funnier if only one of them wags their tail.

I imagine they'd be fiercely protective and possessive of you, often squabbling with one another on what to do for you to show they care.

You're given fish as a gift... often.

That and they stare down other hybrids, humans, and dragons....

They're like (sometimes stupid) bodyguards.

You can never have a,conversation with one head, the other is always there.

For example, maybe one of them is courting you... and the other just likes to sabotage them.

It's... all a chaotic mess, really.

Since they hate leaving your side, even if you ordered it, they'd stalk you.

They're big too, so it isn't like they're going to hide very well.

The two may kidnap you... but it's very dysfunctional.

Eventually they may trap you in a cave, alone from others, but they're still bickering.

It's luck they even succeeded.

They fight over your attention but can sometimes work with one another.

The whole hybrid is a chaotic mess... just like them normally.

In terms of would they kill? They could.

Their abilities are explosive... set them off and someone's in trouble.

They'd attack to protect you... but may accidentally cause someone's demise in the process.

Overall, these Ruffnut and Tuffnut would bicker but be as loyal as any other Zippleback...

Which soon proves to be problematic to you and your freedom.

[thecoolerliauditore]

THE SHEPSCAPADES COMIC! That was to me (and from my perspective to the fandom) the turning point of “ok, im not imagining this”. It doesn’t change any dialogue or anything, it just gives the characters facial expressions and yet it’s almost impossible to interpret the interaction in any way other than the relationship not being good.

The dl era, to me, was a lot of trying to ignore the implication of ranchers fanon lore being that, for once, someone is being nice to Jimmy. People could see the difference in their interactions, which made the abusive behaviour all the more difficult to ignore, and yet acknowledging this directly would be labelled shipping discourse and no one wants to be THAT fan, right? But the tension growing was palpable.

I also would like to add that once I decided to scroll through anti-toxic fh blogs to try and understand why they think like that and… a lot of it was just “well it makes me feel gross”? And I get it. Cannibalism and mass murder are, to most of us, a very distant concept, so it’s more comfortable to engage with than the horrors of the mundane, especially when applied to a queer character. But that doesn’t mean it’s any better than talking about domestic abuse.

The last paragraph is phrased weird but i don’t know how to write it better so i hope it’s understandable.

That comic was patient zero in "oh my god other people see it too" for so many of us, I think. And yeah like you said it sticks very close to what happened taking into account tone of voice and everything. Adaptations of that sequence are like an almost surefire test to figure out what someone's interpretation of FH's relationship is and I think that's wonderful.

Big agree on the ranchers lore and I would argue Pearl's POV also has a similar effect where it forces you to acknowledge Scott not being the best ever. Funnily enough I watched the ranchers pov before the FH pov and didn't really see any of the post-FH horrors until I watched FH. I just kind of assumed when people said Tango was the first person who treated Jimmy as an equal they were putting "and Scott too but that was a season ago" in footnotes. But no they meant full-time and they'd be right lmao

My favourite example of Jimmy expecting the worst is this interaction he has with Bdubs where he essentially gets a bucket for free when the ranchers were struggling for iron and tells him to not tell Tango because he's scared he'll get yelled at. Like there is literally nothing Jimmy has done here that would be remotely considered reasonable to yell at him for but he's so afraid of having agency and making his own decisions at this point he just defaults to assuming his partner will be upset at him. (FYI I think this is more a result of how everyone treats him - Southlanders certainly did not help - but getting mad at Jimmy for doing literally anything except sit still was something Scott was especially privy to)

Don't worry I think your point was clear enough on that last paragraph, I kind of roll my eyes when people try to use distance as an excuse to justify why some dark topics are okay but others aren't, but I can't talk too much about this because I find it annoying and will probably end up saying something that feels mean lol.

Redirecting this once again to Bree's post about how hostile the language people use when talking about this discourse is to abuse victims e.g. "why can't you be NORMAL and write about NORMAL relationships and let them be NORMAL" which I think partially comes as a direct result of refusing to engage in abuse storylines and thus not being sympathetic to these portrayals or the people who write them.

And aside from that it's not even like. abuse and toxic relationships themselves are the issue sometimes. Obviously generalizing here a bit but I see a lot of the same people who find toxic fh "gross" gas up interpretations where Jimmy cheats on Scott or otherwise treats Scott horribly. Not to mention Pearl and her storyline getting turned into "girl who is mad gay man won't date her".

It just uh. sometimes feels as though the "grossness" is coming from a need to defend Scott's honour than a need to disengage with these themes entirely, which rubs me the wrong way.

(not to mention that I do think calling abuse storylines "gross" in of itself might have some unfun implications attached but I've said enough)

[tragedycoded]

Well since I can't actually write today but typing keeps me from losing my fucking mind, I'm going to talk to myself about what I would be writing if I were locked in and writing.

Usual "Jamie is high and talking to himself" warnings below. Spoilers, no guarantee it'll make sense, things are subject to change bc this is a zero draft, etc.

There is also frank discussion of fatal injuries inflicted on fictional characters. An unholy combination of my past experience as an EMT, what I've learned about cave diving, and my death metal imagination are informing these injuries. Don't read this if you don't want to imagine explosive decompression while you're eating.

Anyway so far in the draft:

Cody and Hayes make their first dive. I'm keeping it in media res for the purposes of not infodumping on the reader in the first three pages. They find Kurt's body 75 meters down at the mouth of the sinkhole, find "DON'T GO TO THE LIGHTHOUSE" written on a dive tablet, and realize they can't recover the body without a body bag bc when the decomposition gas in his guts expand, he's going to pop like a meat balloon.

Second chapter was originally written as them going to the police station in-town to report the body. Now the missing boat captain's wife Frances is involved, so the chapter has been rewritten so that she's the one who took them out on their charter. [1]

Third chapter was Cody on the phone with his bestie Balan; I've rewritten it so Balan and Hayes' sister Naomi are also on this trip, but they're several hours away in Dublin having a normal vacation while the lovebirds are off having one of their weird open water diving excursions on the northwestern coast.

Hayes' criminal record means he can't go to places that have strong diplomatic ties with the U.S. He allegedly fragged his CO and dipped out of Vietnam with three other dudes in 1969 [2] so if he ever steps foot near U.S. territory again he's got a one-way ticket to Leavenworth.

At this point the following needs to happen before they dive again:

The coast guard needs to come out and rendezvous with Cody and Hayes.

Cody is going to volunteer to dive a second time since he and Hayes are still in their wetsuits and have practically full tanks. The coast guard is like "Well here's a body bag we sure do appreciate your service."

They go back down, body has either burst due to decomposition or something else disturbed it enough for it to get caught by a downward current and sucked into a freefall into the sinkhole.

They set up a guideline and dive to around 130 feet looking for Kurt's body. They find Karlee's, and her location is tagged. [3]

Cody gets narked. This has not happened to him since he was in PJ indoctrination as a teenager. Hayes has to stop him from diving deeper than 130 feet, which will kill him.

They come back up, relay the situation to the coast guard. Coast guard commits to making a thorough search of the sinkhole. Frances puts them up in her house for the night. When the coast guard isn't able to locate anyone other than Karlee (who was already located and tagged) a lieutenant comes to talk to Frances.

Coast guard can't find her husband's body, is the gist of the conversation. They nearly lost a guy and are calling it off until they can get their guys rapid-trained.

Balan and Naomi arrive around dawn (they have to leave Dublin at like 4 in the morning) with dry suits. I'm not trying to get hung up on logistics. This isn't a manual for how to execute a 300-foot technical dive to recover multiple bodies, it's a story about how a guy tries to do it with his dive partner and loses his dive partner bc none of them should have been anywhere near the fucking thing to begin with.

So my pacing is slightly fucked up, because I was originally aiming for 70k words, but then I realized it's actually not beneficial to spend that much time with the characters when it's a tragedy. This isn't a situation where I want my readers attached and then completely devastated. It's a horror novel, and I have to approach it differently than I would if I were planning to write something like DMLS.

I didn't plan DMLS. DMLS was "supposed" to be a quick in-and-out "I've got a Lawful Good cavalryman literally and figuratively shackled to a Chaotic Evil gambler and a mystery to solve let's see what happens" situation. Hofer wasn't in the first two drafts. A version of Westerberg was the third person in that draft, and he died at the end, so when I went "Royston is dogshit Sullivan needs a friend and I'll throw Royston into the rift instead" and wrote Hofer into draft 3, it was a literal cut-and-paste job. Draft 4 I had to completely rewrite so that Hofer didn't feel like a C&P job. Part of the problem with "flashlight writing," or feeling my way forward a scene at a time, is unless I have a clear ending in mind, I literally don't know where I'm going. Once I started thinking of zero drafting as building a reference for myself so I completely understand the story vs "writing an outline," it started getting easier. Now it's more like "I have several thousands of words of plot summary and a vague idea of what themes/motifs/etc. are appearing and why the characters are doing what they're doing, all I have to do is go back in and write the chapter." DMLS I didn't realize Sullivan and Royston actually love each other until draft 2. The amount of work I had to do to get from book 1 draft 3, where Hofer sacrifices himself to save Sullivan, to book 2 draft 1 where Royston tells Hofer "I like him. I want him around. I didn't think we were discussing a calculus problem" is actually staggering. It took 700 fucking pages, five drafts, and roughly three complete nervous breakdowns. And I still have another 500 pages minimum to give Sullivan his Golden Ending. Fuck that. I'm never doing that again. Character development is for fanfic writers /JOKE. JOKE. THIS IS A JOKE.

Anyway, that's what I'm doing today. If I can't actually write prose that is nice and shiny and can be shared for tag games, I'm just going keep pecking away at the plot summary.

---

[1] Her husband was supposed to take them that morning. She was driving by on her way to church services when she saw them in the rental office parking lot and realized "Oh jesus this is the American pararescue diver and his partner."

[2] This was frequent enough that it has its own Wikipedia page. Look up "fragging" if you want to know more.

[3] I'm still working out the flow dynamics of the sinkhole, but she basically got caught in a whirlpool that sucked her through a craggy, narrow crevice in the sinkhole. She's a teenager, and she's small, so she either bent in half or got sliced up or both. It's also possible her tank banging against the rock caused the compressed air to explode. They were not meant to dive this deep and I've seen a liter of O2 fly across a parking lot bc someone dropped it wrong. Like, watch this:

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

Heyy I don't see much of Pre War Stucky on your blog so I thought I'd give some ideas...

(disclaimer: in no way do I mean to romanticize poverty or the Great Depression, I'm just being real about their situation)

Steve is poor and doesn't come by enough food to keep going at a normal rate but ever since he became Bucky's friend, he's been getting more access to heavier food. He's always loved eating at the Barneses but it's after his mom's death and moving in with Bucky during college that he really picks up on the idea.

Despite all the rations, Bucky makes sure that Steve gets to eat well on his birthday: but now that they're living alone, he can get away with bringing a hamper to Steve's bed and hand feeding him a heavy dinner.

They don't understand why this turns them on. They've known that they were queer for a long time, but this is where it awakens within them.

Bucky stuffs him with muffins and bits of turkey and even has some bottles of soda to go with, and Steve's just sitting there smiling and meeting his eyes while he takes it all by the mouthful.

In minutes he's moaning and rubbing his belly and trying to joke between burps, and also driving Bucky mad with the sounds. He unbuttons the bottom half of his shirt to see that his belly, which was once sticking to the back of his ribcage, was now bloated and full of food.

Bucky's hard in his trousers as he watches his boyfriend struggle to eat more while cradling his huge belly. It was a beautiful contrast between his slim hips and visible rib cage.

"Thanks Buck." Steve smiles and lets him silently rub his belly to push out gas. "How 'bout we save the rest, I've eaten enough for two weeks!"

"It'll go bad, Steve... better eat it now." Bucky smirks and spoons icecream into his pretty lips.

All it takes is for Steve to look down for a second and smirk back.

Soon the icecream is left melting on the bedside as Bucky makes sweet love to Steve, who's burping and groaning with each thrust.

Oh yeah! I think I just get caught up in all the later canon or alternate universe possibilities that I forget about pre-war 😅 pre-war is SO GOOD, though. Have you seen this art by @frogstalavista?

It's FAT pre-serum Steve and I think about it all. the. time.

Thank you for the ideas/writing!!!

Even if it's just a non-canon exaggeration, I love the idea of the Barnes's being a little more well off and Steve just gaining when he's around them. They all shove food at him, not just Bucky: his mom Winnifred, his dad George, and even his little sisters, they all feed Steve like he's a starving puppy they can't resist, giving him table scraps on top of making him his own plate. Any day he stays over at Bucky's for more than half an hour, he ends up waddling home, stifling burps, trying to be polite, nursing his pot belly with both hands, rubbing and rubbing it like he's pregnant, and continually sticking his thumb under the tight line of his belt or stretching out his suspenders that cling so tightly to his round little gut.

Yes! Exactly like you said, it'd just speed up the stuffing debauchery if he moved into the family home after his mom's death, and then moved out with Bucky to get their own little place. First, he'd round out and then again. A one-two punch. 🤤🤤

Birthday stuffing!! Yes. I love that. And hand feeding! My weakness!

Ooh, yeah, also just the discovery of it all, after they have a home to themselves, they just dive in to all these things - doing whatever "weird" things get them off. And with how fucked the 1930s into the 1940s were over being queer, what's the difference to them between being queers and being weird about food? It doesn't feel all that different to them. To them, at the time, in this context, it's the same level of weird. So… they might as well just keep doing it.

"while he takes it all by the mouthful" made me shiver!! Literally. Like. Mouthfuls. He's eating whatever Bucky brings him so eagerly that it puffs out his cheeks like a greedy chipmunk, hoarding it for later right there in his burgeoning belly.

I looooove sounds, yes! And because Steve hasn't always gotten everything he needs to eat, his body just isn't used to being this full, meaning it's extra noisy. Bubbling, gurgling, and groaning. Steve's trying to take away the ache from the stretch by rubbing it, unbuttoning his own clothes like a slow strip tease because he's getting off to it just as much as Bucky is - he can't believe he looks like that. That's him. Fuck.

"cradling his huge belly" YES, it wouldn't take that much food to make him look massive by comparison. He would get the hottest pot belly and I bet it would take an awful long time for his tummy to go back to normal, his body unused to being so well-fed that he stays bloated and puffy for a while. The bloat and clinging belly ache get them both hot, too, like bruised love bites fading from the last time they fucked.

Don't get me started on Steve burping and groaning with each thrust during sex!!!!! Oh my god

[according2thelore]

Your beta Dean idea has me FERAL. I desperately need more if you're willing to provide more ideas. THE INSECURITY. THE PURE HURT/COMFORT POTENTIAL. UGH.

Also omega "about a boy" Dean and alpha sam? I NEED. I'm definitely going to check and see if anyone has written any fics about that because UGH. SO MUCH POTENTIAL. If you ever decide to expand on that idea please tag me I'd love to read more about it!

Now I'm even thinking about the es/ls verse and how abo would effect THAT already messy dynamic. Two alpha sams butting heads?(and making the deans very protective/horny) Two omega deans trying to mother the sams?(and making the sams very competitive and horny) Pure chaos lol

Love hearing you abo rants because I too am a big abo fan

Also omega lactating Dean? Yes please. I mean *cough cough* nothing who said that?

EEEE thank you!!!! i love talking about all of them and will do so right now on this ask 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ (this ask is in reference to this recent ask here!)

EXACTLY!!! beta!dean&alpha!sam is so good bc not only does it undermine dean's position in their established hierarchy, i think it makes sam's willing emotional/fraternal submission to him very good and delightful!!!!

and as mentioned in the previous ask, and as you've addressed here, the POTENTIAL IS INSANE!!!!! beta!dean expecting sam to actually and genuinely leave him behind any second to be with an omega, because dean literally cannot give sam the "normal" that he wants so badly. dean crosses his fingers and buys lube and imitation omega slick. he has to mix them together because sam the look on sam's face when he found the original omega slick bottle in dean's back was enough to terrify dean into never bringing it up again.

he won't let sam touch him without an hour of prep beforehand, almost sticking his whole hand up his ass just to make sure he's lubed/loose enough to be "omega" passable. sam tries to initiate morning sex one time and dean flips the fuck out on him, biting back furious and exhausted tears in the bathroom as he fucks himself back on four fingers.

dean flirts wildly because it's not like it matters, and when sam--one too many beers in--corners dean into their booth at the bar and coats dean in scent, teeth closing around the slanted muscle in his neck, dean's agog. sam growls at people that get close, and dean is equally blissed out and heartbroken, because sam is treating him like an actual mate. that's nice. it's really fucking nice.

dean won't let sam mate him. he knows sam'll regret it. he knows sammy loves him, but there's gonna be a nice, small, wet omega that'll walk into a diner or a grocery store or a gas station and something in sam will click and he'll start to resent dean or even worse he'll stay out of obligation.

sam thinks part of dean still doesn't trust him. after all they've been through, sam knows his brain must be scrambled eggs, and being mated to that can't be easy. or maybe dean doesn't trust sam's biology to not turn on him. he hates his presentation, wishes he was an omega or beta, like dean clearly wishes he was.

GAHHHHHH ABOUT A BOY SALMONDEAN GRAHHHHHH

because like !!!!!! fourteen/fifteen-year-old omega!dean who's all big eyes and sharp tongue and he's never been this small in his life!!!!! to sam, even though he was an omega, he was larger than life. he was protection and safety and home, and his scent alone makes sam break the bathroom door straight off of the wall.

while dean is telling him what happened, sam is slowly inching closer and the entire room reeks bc sam desperately wants to SO BAD scent dean before anyone else can smell him like this because this is a BABY!!!!!!! AND PEOPLE ARE GOING TO BE WEIRD ABOUT HIM!!!!!!! not sam though, he's perfectly chill, just look at the wavelength he's vibrating at rn, he's doing great.

dean's pissed when he picks up on what's happening bc "don't patronize me man, c'mon!" but grudgingly lets sam rub his wrists all over dean's hair/neck when sam points out the potential security risks.

dean shivers when they get outside, and sam turns right back around and comes back out of the motel room with three of his own flannels and a jacket, just to give dean some variety. he looks confused, like he's not sure why he's doing it, and shrugs, wide-eyed, when dean yells at him for it.

(dean ends up picking one of sam's oldest flannels, by the way, and the collar is so tall on dean that he's swallowed by it, and can't stop the quiet purr that rumbles out of his throat as they drive. sam almost swerves them into oncoming traffic.)

they go to fight the witch and sam is practically feral, just snarls and teeth and eyes so dark they look demonic. he breaks the fender off a car in the yard with his bare hands. he throws hansel against the ceiling. dean goes down and sam is crouching over him, and no one knows what the fuck to do bc dean is swearing and cursing and has never seen sam like this ever, has never seen an alpha do this.

the reversal spell doesn't work right away, and they trudge back to their motel after letting tina go. tina--also an omega--doesn't affect sam at all. he shrugs and shakes her hand and offers her money, which she gratefully takes. when they finally get into the motel room, sam keeps presenting dean with clothes to make a nest with, and dammit--fine, okay, it's nice, dean's man enough to admit that, as he grouchily punches sam's clothes into submission on his bed.

ES LS VERSE LET'S DISCUSS!!!! YOU ARE SO CORRECT!!

omega!LS!Dean gets furious when omega!ES!Dean very demurely sidles up to LS!Sam, nudges under his chin in what could very well be familial but it's NOT!!!! LS!Dean goes into hyperdrive trying to provide/protect/prove himself to BOTH sams because ES!Dean smells fresh and looks fantastic and his joints don't creak and LS!Dean's always kind of been a broken omega so who the fuck would pick him over this guy?

ES!Sam cuts his finger on a ceremonial dagger while cataloguing one of the storage rooms and LS!Dean swoops in and cares for it and ES!Dean is incandescent with rage because !!!!! that's HIS job !!!!!!

ES!Dean praising LS!Sam for finding some lore and ES!Sam locks in at a heretounforseen-by-mankind degree and pulls out the most obscure hard-to-find lore because yes !!! praise me as well !!!! and now the sams are caught in a death spiral of trying to provide for the deans because their bodies aren't used to there being a competing alpha that guns straight for dean every time.

LS!Dean's jealousy and hurt kickstarting his heat to pull his mate in, and now LS!Sam & ES!Sam are fighting to the death in the hallway because ES!Sam KNOWS the smell of his distressed brother in heat and there's some foreign alpha that wants him while LS!Sam is just matematematemate and completely senseless to anything else.

ES!Dean tries to step in and knock them out of it but they're both also technically fighting over him, and his legs get all wobbly and weak and he's pouring sweat and leaking slick like a goddamn fountain and it ramps the sams up even MORE because now there's TWO distressed/horny omegas and they both smell like "MINE"

and ES!Sam is kind of flabbergasted because LS!Sam has been a wilting flower the whole time he's been here but now he's literally trying to rip ES!Sam's throat out with his teeth because protecting dean is one of the only things LS!Sam has no qualms/morals/hesitation about. he does not fuck around about his mate, and i think this would give him more grudging respect for LS!Sam because he's 230 pounds of a wall of muscle and--for the first time since this whole shitshow started--actually acts like an alpha.

(one of the deans later getting knocked up and no one knows which sam is the father)

and yes, while we're here, i think omega dean lactating is kind of great. it's just his biology kicking into overdrive and trying to be useful/take care of sam in a way he couldn't when he was a child. dean's humiliated and frustrated but like...when sam finds out he can't stop looking at dean's chest JUST SAYING

thank you SO MUCH for this ask!!!! if you couldn't tell, i love and adored this one, and love getting to ramble about omegaverse samdean for 45 minutes 🙂‍↕️ <3

-lizzy

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 19: Normal Straight Jacket

Bearblr Promptober Day 19: Only One Bed

Summary: Carmy and Sydney get stuck with one hotel room on a conference in New York, and Carmy is suffering for it. (908 words)

Warnings: Swearing, chronic pain, mentions of drug use (no characters use drugs), Carmy is very self-conscious, mentions of fem reader/rando lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

Also, if random letters or words are black/white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

19 Oct 2024

I’m going to rethink acts of chivalry for the rest of my life.

So, Syd and I are at the conference in New York. I asked Sugar to do all the booking for our trip because (a) I don’t have time for this shit, (b) I’m going to fuck it up anyway because non-kitchen logistics are not my thing, and (c) Syd was already up to her eyeballs looking for new line cooks because we had a second fucking person disappear right at the start of service to go smoke crack in the back alley.

God's still a sadist, in case you were wondering.

Anyway, Sug did everything right. Like she got us rooms walking distance from the venue, so we didn’t have to put up with a rental car and all that shit, but the hotel fucked up our booking. They double-booked my room, they’re packed, the other person showed up 2 hours earlier than we did, so guess who doesn’t have a fucking room now?

At least they refunded us 75% of our booking for the massive inconvenience. More for Cicero.

So, we got one room. One bed, a shitty little table that rocks back and forth so bad that just interacting with it makes me want to hurl it out the window—not that it matters anyway because there’s only one chair—and a couch. Oh, and one bathroom. One shower. I lived on a houseboat in Copenhagen with the shittiest little shower you can’t even imagine to avoid this exact roommate scenario because being around other people, I swear to fuck, drives me fucking crazy.

I need to be able to get away from peoples’ eyes. There are few greater hells than being witnessed at all hours, than being scrutinized for your peculiarities and faults like you’re a lab rat being assessed for the gas chamber or some exotic breed of slug some random fucko put in a petri dish to poke with a stick. Every little weird thing I do—the incessant fiddling with objects, drumming my fingers, touching my face way too often to be remotely fucking normal, muttering to myself as I figure out something complicated, even writing in this fucking notebook—I become painfully aware of all of it. There’s this straight jacket on how to be “normal” that gets cinched around me—not of my own will. I fucking wish I could be as unapologetically myself as Fak is—and it ratchets tighter and tighter until it feels like my own skin is too tight on my body, and I need to get the fuck out of dodge. Kitchens are brutal and fast paced enough that I don’t have time to be a fucking weirdo and no one has time to pay any attention to me, but a conference? The funeral dinner at Ever (which I had to sit still for lest everyone at that table think I’m tweaking)? A fucking random fucking hotel room in fuck-off New York with Syd of all beings?

Darling, I feel a lot better around, but even now, she understands that I just need space and time to not be observed. It’s why we still don’t quite live together even though I know she wants to move in. More accurately, move me out, because those stupid fucking radiators and the idiot fucking landlord… Anyway, I’m on this dumbass couch because I’m short enough to fit on it (one point for being a short bitch, I guess) and Syd’s sound asleep because if I had to argue about who went where for one more fucking second, I might’ve bitten her head off, which would’ve set up an even more miserable day two than the one we’ll have anyway tomorrow.

She also still doesn’t know that my back is fucked up. And bringing it up now would’ve just made me seem like an asshole, or she would’ve gotten mad for not telling her sooner (which is fair, by the way. I definitely should’ve told her sooner), but we are now here and here is a couch that only looks nice. It feels like it’s full of sawdust or something. The grimy-ass floor might have more cushion to it. And the texture is this awful cheap polyester that whistles when I shift at all.

My back is killing me. Between the flight, then the first day of the conference (mostly sitting), and then this shit, it feels like I’ve got knives in it. Stretching didn’t help. And I’m not asking Syd to stand on it like Darling does. The pain does this weird thing when it gets this bad; starts to feel like a being. Like some hideous, horrible creature festering under my skin, invading my bones; a putrid blossom—maybe that corpse flower, Titan arum—that threatened to burst from my spine. When it gets this bad, I find myself touching the spot over and over again, sometimes going to the mirror and pulling up my shirt to look at my unbroken skin, to reassure myself that nothing was there. Half the time, I expected to see a scar, something visible to explain why it hurt so much, something I could point to, something that had a story I could tell. But no. It just hurts. It hurts the same way most things hurt: the usual way.

Well, if I had to pick one of us to be tired and the other to be well-rested tomorrow, I’d pick it like this.

[mako-neexu]

smth smth rambles that are entirely my opinion and i could be wrong (so dont attack me) you know this chapter made guda, fuijmaru ritsuka with already Many Issues worse is because of "mash" or rather kyrie's death but ultimately comes back to mash...that dantes did for them.

we even see a while back how guda was already shaken by not knowing whether mash is safe during lb6 after that fog like their priority is mash. mash.

they were already frantic as soon as they remembered mash almost questioning everyone about her whereabouts and immediately got reckless just trying to reach her at norwich. and when only when they were together did the "narrator" emphasize on the sheer relief guda felt like-- wow the obvious signs in OC chapter 2 makes you realize furthermore that guda's sanity hangs on a thin thread named 'mash' asdfgh

yes guda loves mash!! yes they care about her!!! but look and read at how guda tells absolutely nothing to mash- and that applied the same to kyrie!

(more below)

kyrie wanted to know and ask her senpai about the situation like we see her really wanting it but ultimately backtracking in the end because she trusts guda and she's even supportive. and guda was grateful/relieved that she stays innocent about the weird things going on in their tokyo.

they do compromise at one point that if kyrie really demands on explanations, guda would tell her but...

guda doesnt tell her anything, (kyrie believes in her senpai so even when faced with death, kyrie didnt break under pressure) keeps her in the dark so no one comes after her. for her to be ultimately safe. so she remains...innocent, normal who stands alongside "mama" and "little sister" as they arent involved in the first place about whats been happening. and guda wants to keep it that way for their family. not a real family, but a family nonetheless that cared about guda. an epitome of normal- which mash kyrielight has attained.

and now you see guda, who, upon waking up asks mash kyrielight if she was okay. if she was alright. guda doesnt stop their questions until mash answered. and so mash answered.

"I'm okay, Senpai. My vital signs are normal... so I'm completely okay."

all the while guda had just dismissed being in pain literally one minute ago and just hugged her tight. they "save mash the trouble" to tell her about the pains they went through in the singularity so as not to burden mash. so they stuff their pain inside the corner of their heart again, completely satisfied with mash's safety and disregarding their own health. (you also see in section 23 that theyre cherishing the normal and small moments with mash.)

mash is normal. mash looks pure to guda, her heart filled with "color" in comparison to guda whose heart has become "transparent". an inverse character development which will ultimately destroy them both.

for mash, who sees her Senpai as strong and unwavering, the image of kindness and strength when they held her hand during part 1 crushed by a coffin which she continues to believe them to be that way until now.

for guda, who sees mash as someone who's become normal. one last remnant that reminds them of a past life lost, mash with that purity and normalcy becoming an ideal to protect (as if she was glass) because they no longer have their own. (and mash is also literally the only one left close to guda, who remembers all the events of part 1. which... adds more to how losing mash would break guda even further.)

(also we see guda say 'tadaima' coming home to an empty house, the loss of kyrie and their family still in mind, and a little later, the Avenger mindset comes back and settles in as they're plagued by bloodlust. then when guda comes back to mash, their home, mash is their home. do you realize that? do you realize what im saying? mash says: "welcome home, senpai." and that was enough for guda. that eased everything in guda's tumultuous heart.)

i remembered guda avoiding on telling "mom" that they and kyrie were near the "gas leak site" / britoalter's battleground so like.....of course their lying to medical staff about getting back to the battlefield would carry over here.

deliberately making sure the "normal" components of their fake high school life remain untainted is what we see guda do. they shouldered everything, terrifying as it is, just to protect them but ended up inevitably losing them in the process.

there's also that contrast in seeing a dead body between kyrie and guda. kyrie still stood strong against dantes and remained rational and calm while telling "ojisama" that this wasnt good for guda. meanwhile guda, while still able to think about calling the ambulance after seeing the da vincis absolutely lost their mind when it came to kyrie which their mind thought of mash- and i think guda thought of both as 'one' person so they went absolutely insane right then and there

during the conversation with amatsuka, thats the part where guda became finally stable. because its implied guda's mental state really broke at kyrie's death which their mind automatically thought it to be "=mash is dead". but ukelele-senpai saved the day by reminding guda where they are, if mash and kyrie were the same person, and helping guda calm down and think of seeing that blue sky with mash during the part 1 epilogue.

and augh guda you shit!!! you need therapy!! dont put mash in a pedestal!! dont treat her as if she's fragile!! dont treat her like porcelain meant to be protected while you take on everything for the sake of keeping mash safe because she is the only remnant of your past left, because she is the only "normal" person you have left!!! guda you need to understand that if ever mash gets hurt someday or dies and its out of your control, you need to understand that it wont be your fault!! you need to understand that because someday you will part ways with her as well and you need to be able to be ready to lose again. if you lose mash once and for all, what will you do!?!?!? this is not healthy guda!! gudaaa you hear me!!?? gudaaaaaaa

[etraytin]

News from the Hurricane

Still in Charlotte but the deliveries from Amazon are starting to roll in, giving us supplies we will need to go back in the next couple days. We now have a portable toilet, a solar panel for our large power bank, and a safety gas can that will let me carry and store five gallons of gas without freaking out about it constantly. I also got bath wipes and those shower caps they use in hospital for waterless hair washing, plus more paper plates and plastic cutlery. Most importantly, I sank just an obscene amount of money into a legit battery pack for my CPAP, one that is supposed to last for 4-6 nights per charge rather than one night per charge like the power bank.

Being in Charlotte is comparatively great, we are staying with family and they have a guest room so we have privacy, lights, air conditioning, toilets and showers. I don't forget for a minute how lucky we are. It has still been kind of rough at times, sometime in weird ways. I came right to the edge of a mini-breakdown in Walmart yesterday, trying to stock up on things that were not available, trying to decide what was important enough to add to our very limited car space, wondering what things are going to be like when we get back and what I'm going to be kicking myself for forgetting. And around me everyone else was just shopping like normal, of course, because life is normal here. It was a little like being in a dream where I knew I had to get ready for something important and scary but nobody else around me understood anything was happening and whenever I tried to find something it wasn't there. I ended up cutting my trip short and sitting in the car to decompress with emergency candy and some texts with my best friend, talking me down from hundreds of miles away.

It finally occurred to me last night that now that we have a gas can, whole new horizons of supply-getting have opened up for us. If we take that gas can back and I put it in the minivan, I can easily make it back to Charlotte, or to Greenville, or several other places depending on which roads are open. We can get more stuff, it's just a little more complicated right now. It was enough to calm my rabid squirrel brain down and let me relax, at least. Things are going to be okay. The power will not be off forever. Heck, once we get the power back on we will be able to help the folks on city water who need to wait for the treatment plants to be repaired before they get water.

Oh, and my dad talked me out of buying the last gas-powered chainsaw at Lowes just because I thought I ought to have a chainsaw and this was the LAST ONE. I think I probably owe him one for that. Sure I had some vague idea of helping with a chainsaw crew, but I don't even know how to use a chainsaw. I know how to run a shelter and do mass-care feeding and drive an emergency response vehicle, why on earth would I try and help out with a chainsaw instead?

On the actual news front, our family in Spruce Pine is safe and sitting pretty on generator power, just completely cut off. My 101 year old client is safe too, taken out of town by his adult kids as soon as the roads opened up. And I heard from our neighbor this morning, there is cell service in our neighborhood, patchy and poor but real! Things really are looking up.