#my poor little gay brain couldn't process it all

[reallyromealone]

Hello idk if you'll see this but I always thought of this story where (name) was an omega but he faked being an alpha "he worked with bonten" and one day Kakucho will find a heat pills bottle in the kitchen bc (name) forgot it.

They'll find out later and knot the shit out if him (most likely angry sex) get it?

so yea yea have a nice dayyy. ♡

Bonten x male reader omegaverse

Warnings: nsfw, smut, male reader, omegaverse, dubious consent, like very dubious, gangbang, group sex, cum, gay

🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷

(Name) kept his secondary gender a well hidden secret, pretending to be an alpha and hope to god no one finds out.

(Name) took his medication in the kitchen, pain meds and heat surpessants; he had a mission coming up soon.

Didn't need his heat getting in the way.

"(Name)! My office now" Sanzu hissed out, (name) making his way to the office, his meds haven't kicked in fully, his brain slightly fuzzy.

He barely processed the fact he only put his pain meds in his pocket.

Kakucho was exhausted as he walked out of his office for coffee, sluggishly preparing it when he saw the medical bottle on the counter.

"Omegex heat surpessants... Extra strength" Kakucho slowly read the over the countertop bottle, no prescription "there's an Omega among us..." He whispered with furrowed brows.

He had to inform the others.

Omegas weren't allowed in Bonten.

It was a rule.

Omegas were fragile.

Weak.

"Progress on the deal with the french?" Sanzu spoke curtly As he eyed the "alpha" before him, he was truly beautiful in alpha standards... One wouldn't believe he was an alpha if it wasn't for the scent.

Mikeys a cute alpha so...

"I got them to agree in our favor, in exchange they wanted tickets to the Jade Gala... They want to rub elbows with the gangs of Asia" he said professionally and Sanzu hummed with thought, staring at the paperwork (name) compiled "good boy" he said simply and (name) practically beat his Omega with a bat to not respond with the praise with anything than "thank you sir."

When (name) stepped out he took a shaking breath at the pharamones Sanzu pumped out, the alphas scent was numbing and he knew Sanzu was doing it to remind him who he is as if anyone in this building could forget.

(Name) felt the wave wash over him and panicked as he went to check his pockets for his heat suppressants..."no nonono" (name) mumbled panicked and immediately stormed to the elevator to head to the garage and get the hell out of here.

"Someone's an Omega?" Ran mumbled methodically as he looked at the label "where did you find it?" Sanzu asked having just come from his meeting with (name) "kitchen by your office... Who was the last person there?"

"(Name--" realization washed over all of Bonten and mochi stood first to their surprise "well we did want an Omega in our pack... Why not be the one we've been jerking off to"

The higher ups didn't miss the "alpha" who worked hard and fast, the men spoke about about the... Attraction they held for (name) amongst themselves.

(Name) was strong, capable and had an air about him the others couldn't figure out.

They also felt... Safe with him.

It was strange... Terrifying.

But now it all made sense.

He almost had them.

Almost.

(Name) stumbled into his apartment and fell to the ground, panicking and shaking as his pre heat settled in "why didn't they work?!" (Name) cried getting up and stumbling into his bathroom to find his other bottle only to not find it "Omega..." Rindōs voice called to the Omega who fell to the ground and whined stressfully as footsteps grew closer and the door opened to eight VERY smug men "poor thing... Silly omegas trying to be alphas..." Koko cooed as Mochi scooped the Omega up "no..." (Name) mumbled weakly as the others chuckled "little bunny in the lion's den..." Kakucho cooed as they went to the omegas bedroom and placed him on the bed.

(Name) stared at them angrily, he wasn't in heat yet as he sat up defensively and glared at them heatidly "what... What do you want from me? You know now... So what"

"Oh please baby... You can't act like you haven't noticed how we look at you" Mochi said condicendingly and (name) glared with a slight blush "so... Hm!" A wave washed over him as he let out a soft moan "you broke our rules... Deceived us... Normally we would kill those who did that" Mikey rumbled as he got into (name)s space and pinned him to the bed "you're our Omega now..." He hissed out with a blank cold expression, something he had only seen when Mikey was absolutely livid.

And boy was he ever.

He had no choice but to accept being their Omega as his instincts took over slowly, baring his neck with a whine, gasping when Mikey licked up his neck "our Omega needs a good knot in him to remind him of who he is..." Takeomi finally spoke up and Mikey got off him so everyone could enjoy their little mate to be.

Hands touched, groped and rubbed everywhere as strong hands removed his clothes, the others themselves getting naked and (name) tried not drooling at the sight of them as his Omega took over fully, Rindō taking his hand and letting him touch his abs with a grin as the Omega chirped.

Alphas were strong... Protect pups...

(Name) was gone as he crawled towards them, the smell of slick heavy as Koko went behind to get a good look "you ever been with an alpha, baby?" He hummed taking a long kick at his ass and (name) tilted his head before crying out, Sanzu taking the opportunity to shove his tongue down his throat as they manhandled him to sit on Kokos face, Mikey giving hickeys and jerking him off as the Haitanis played with his nipples.

Kakucho and Mochi used his hands to give themselves handjobs and Mikey and Sanzu moved slightly so takeomi could Jerk him and (name) off together.

(Name) was in a haze as he rode Kokos face, only able to moan and pant in Sanzus mouth as their teeth clashed, the pink haired man gripping his jaw almost painfully as his tongue took control of (name)s mouth.

"How could anyone think you're an alpha... So desperate and slutty..."

(Name) was never leaving them.

(Name) cried as everyone pulled away "hey angel..." Mochi whispered in his ear "present"

(Name) layed on his back without any further prompting and spread his legs from them all to see, slick pouring out like crazy as he humped nothing.

The other men looked at Kakucho "what?"

"You found out first... You get to take this pretty boys virginity..." Ran said simply, Kakucho moving to spread (name)s ass cheeks before talking him by the knees and bending them on (name)s chest.

Kakucho barely waited for him to adjust as he pushed in "grinning at (name)s cry "lying omegas get fucked stupid... Though you must have been stupid already to lie-" he thrusted particularly hard "- about being - " he lifted (name by the back "-an alpha!" He began jack hammering (name as the Omega wrapped his arms around the others neck and licked and nipped at his scent gland before Mikey lifted his face and pressed his cock to (name)s lips and (name) sucked on the tip before sucking his cock like his life depended on it, deep throating like he was made for it.

The others played with his body, taking his hands and jerking themselves off with it or some simply jerked themselves off at the sight of the man whose been starring in their raunchiest dreams but god is this far better.

He was the sexiest thing they ever came across.

But when he's coherent he will have to answer questions.

Kakucho fucked (name) aggressively, his moans shaking from the frantic pounding only muffled by Mikey fucking his throat.

Kakucho groped and smacked the omegas ass "fucking close..." He hissed out as he fucked feverishly.

(Name) whined as Mikey came down his throat, ass tightening around Kakucho with a vice grip and the Alpha pushed his knot in, locking them together as he came deep in his ass "get fucking pregnant..."

Kakucho bit one side of his neck as (name) did the same, the others excited for the chance to claim him when they got a chance to fuck him stupid.

"Get food and water, we have to get him ready for the next round" Mikey said strictly as they went and got supplies, Sanzu grabbing a wet cloth from the ensuite bathroom to clean him up a bit "you're definitely gonna get knocked up by the end of this baby" Sanzu said with a cruel grin, he couldn't wait for (name) to be coherent again.

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

I want to write a post about how I hate that you have to dress up to go to the doctor to be treated like a person, but because this is the internet I know how this goes ("well ACTUALLY, you don't! dress how you want! it doesn't matter!") and it is tedious.

Also very America centric but hey. remember that I live in an affluent part of a conservative state.

There is no nice way to say this. If you dress kind of alt-y, be that alternative fashion or subculture or gender identity or sexuality, most of those markers don't set off the bigotry you might assume.

it's that the professional class thinks that you're poor. And if the doctor thinks you're poor--HAHAHA, healthcare?!?! you think you get healthcare, PEASANT?! you don't!

A long time ago I was 23 and very obviously dying and the ER would not take me. A more adult-y adult in my life sighed, took out all my piercings, fished a button up out of her trunk. she put my glasses back on my face even though my head hurt and my vision swirled so bad I could barely see. she took off my rainbow wristbands and my skull rings. she hid my cool bi girl haircut under a hat. my ataxia ridden ass had to be button upped in that shirt by my beloved (my fingers didn't work) and half carried back to the ER. I might have been bridal carried back to the ER. I don't really remember.

this whole process took maybe 20 minutes.

but then! guess who looked like a respectable college student?! guess who got admitted into the ER because she has having OBVIOUS STROKE SYMPTOMS?

I spent two weeks in the neuro ICU. I had emergency brain surgery.

I want you to understand: I was just a little too punk and maybe a teensy bit maybe gay to live. A little bit too probably poor. They would not even admit me to the ER before my lil parking lot make over.

When I say my symptoms were obvious, I mean they were OBVIOUS. cross eyed, couldn't walk--worst fuckin' headache of my entire life, as you'd guess.

and just.

it was bad.

so anyway. I'm salty.

And the problem is that this is one of those liminal spaces, walk between worlds thing. I know that it's the poverty markers because I am always looking unlike the thing I was raised as. My father is a retired ambassador--this does me no good. It does my stepsister much good. My beloved's family is well monied and he refuses to accept a cent from them, so the house we live in is more modest than the one his sister lives in.

Our friends are mostly people we met either in undergrad or during that age and of a certain SES. Which we also are--mostly--which we look like we are, because we are, except for how we're also not because there's something about the upbringing that you never lose, something in how you talk no matter how good your code switching is.

That is: if I "dress up" to go to the doctor, I am treated like an affluent person. I am treated kindly and respectfully, offered prescription drugs with no suspicion, referred to other departments for testing, and verily, my complaints are valid.

(rx drugs including painkillers! including my ADHD meds! including a variety of ADHD meds, where if you don't look like a respectable upper middle class or above person, the pharmacist treats you like a criminal!)

If I do not dress up to go to the doctor--and I mean if I roll in wearing my batman tee and some jeans; I don't even mean dressing like the slutty goth tramp I love to pretend to be--I do not get referrals or prescriptions. Everything is assumed to be my fault, if it's acknowledged to exist at all. Ear infection? Nope. You're making up. Stroke symptoms? It's all the drugs you obviously did. Crippling ovarian pain? You're just trying to scam us for more drugs. Oh you're allergic to morphine? Liar. You're just trying to scam some GOOD drugs.

[here I projectile vomit over the poor nurse who put an IV with a morphine derivative in my arm like 30 seconds ago]

[my body may or may not also break out into hives]

and it's just so tedious and it's such dystopian garbage. it's absurd and obscene and actually evil that we have such marvelous medical care that's so fucking IMPOSSIBLE for most people to access while it would still do them some good.

Mine is the guilt of the shapeshifter. If I play the game, it works. I have the ability to play the game--up to a point.

(But I am playing, and it is not natural. I don't have the right done hair, the right mani-pedi upkept nails, the tailored to fit wardrobe, the luxury by default shoes. that hasn't been my life for a long time and it was never my life as an adult so I don't know how to do it habitually. It's ridiculously resource intensive and even if I do my best there's only a certain threshold of respectability I can hit. There's so much of it that I just don't understand.)

(I want you to understand that I am not even particularly good at this game, and it has layers.)

What about everyone who can't play the game? Who are also frankly lied to, continuously, that the game doesn't exist? What about them? What about my fucking friends, actually? What about literally everybody else? Why do they have to be treated like shit and then literally fucking die if something goes wrong?

But at the end of the day, also, what can I do? I put on the pale pink high neckline dress. I put on the modest shoes. I use the correct type of voice, the right accent, so rigid in my mouth I can't slip into my mother tongue when I hear the custodians talking as they go down the hall. I go get my knee looked at. I explain I do Important Athletic Sports at [Brand Name Bougie Ass Gym]. I get the x-rays and the painkillers instead of a lecture on my weight or my activity choices. I have a lovely and pleasant experience. I am treated like a human being.

A grand and lovely time until I make it back to my car and collapse in a heap, exhausted and angry because this is all such BULLSHIT.

(what about my brother, halfway across this big country, who can't play the game?)

And so many people still think the game doesn't exist.

I don't know, you guys. I dunno. I don't know what my point is. I am sorry it is like this. I don't know what to do about it. It should not be like this. I don't use the word lightly but I do think it is actually really fucking evil that it's like this.

#text #personal #no proofreading we die like men

[drfitzmonster]

i like lena's braid

a lot

it reminds me of karen allen's hair in raiders of the lost ark

i had a very, very strong proto-gay crush on marion ravenwood as a kid

so i am a sucker for a braid

#lena luthor #karen allen in raiders of the lost ark made me gay #marion wears trousers and drinks and smokes and gets in fights and does other masculine coded things #but she also has this damsel in distress moment #which is apparently exactly my jam #my poor little gay brain couldn't process it all

[silverinia]

I came for Baranski, I stayed for Baranski - a quick Christmas On The Square review someone* actually asked for

(* thank you, anon)

Disclaimer: I am in no way a professional of any sorts when it comes to film and I'm not a journalist either. The last movie review I've written was probably for a school assignment in eighth grade. I didn't do research for this and I've watched the movie exactly one time, so this is just for fun.

It was a Sunday, Sunday the 22nd of November, nearing the end of the train wreck of a year that is 2020. I woke up on an air mattress around seven am, my head aching, my throat itching with pyrosis and light nausea, it was still dark outside behind the closed blinds in front of the windows, when I slowly realised where I was, one of my best girlfriends sleeping next to me in her bed. I had crashed at her place after a warm, fuzzy evening of mulled wine, tacky Christmas movies I would never watch alone (Christmas Chronicles and Holiday Calendar, which I quite honestly didn't enjoy at all, but the company made it fun anyway), doing our nails, wearing the fun kind of face masks for a change and smoking too many cigarettes, as the soft pain in my head informed me right now. She woke up an hour later and the morning went by with coffee and reheated pizza for breakfast, when we decided to watch another movie and I realised that it was THE Sunday I'd been waiting for through Zoom interviews and Dolly Parton twitter memes and the infamous wig gate that will be briefly discussed in the following, and so we clicked on the small icon in the Netflix menu that said "Christmas On The Square".

And oh boy, was it a ride.

To start off, I should mention that I have a hard time watching most modern day American Christmas movies, as I noticed quite vividly again when I watched the two aforementioned Netflix productions last night. The character development is always foreseeable to say the least, the plot lines are plain clichés hunting each other like they're the kids in The Hunger Games, and the writing is generally so bad that you can join the actors in reciting the entire scripts on your first watch. I watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas once a year while I'm gift wrapping and pause every fifteen minutes to shamelessly stare at forties Christine Baranski (I think we should all turn away from the birth of Jesus and instead count our years based on Christine Baranski's date of birth) in flamboyant nightgowns and short Christmas themed dresses, looking so fabulous that every interpreter of Santa Baby ever could only dream of it, I watch Love Actually at least five times a year to lust over Hugh Grant, cry with Emma Thompson and miss Alan Rickman, I enjoy Bridget Jones, which I would definitely consider a Christmas movie, and that's it. That's my yearly Christmas time entertainment routine and I can barely tolerate anything beyond, because I'm still traumatised from the time when I was around five years old and on a holiday family visit where had to sit through National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, the dumbest movie I have ever seen (my apologies if you like it but also, who hurt you?), with my cousins. I hated it. I hated every minute of it. And it scarred me for life.

But this was a Christine Baranski movie, I knew she was going to play the lead and so I was pretty much as excited about this as I could. And the fact that Dolly Parton wrote the whole thing didn't hurt either. As I said earlier to my friend I was watching it with, I have the pop cultural taste of a fifty year old gay man, a quality I am most proud of, and this simply ticked off all my boxes.

I expected something similar to a Mamma Mia experience that wouldn't cause me to crave packing my bags, give Covid the finger and run off to Greece. Light-hearted entertainment, easy to stomach, uplifting music and so little plot that the simplicity feels like a creative choice. That's what my pained, hungover brain knew it could cope with and that's not what I got.

The movie started and I was immediately in the zone. I saw Christine Baranski's name in the front credits (an experience that never fails to make me scream "Yass Queen" at the screen, regardless of where I am and who I'm with, as if I'm the sobering result that pops out of the package when you order Jonathan Van Ness on Wish), the setting was wonderfully corny (I grew up watching Gilmore Girls once a week, so give me warm fairy lights and a gazebo and I'm perfectly happy) and as my friend wondered whether Dolly Parton, in her exaggerated homeless attire that didn't make her look shabby at all, was green-screened into the setting because she stood out so much (which she was because the background dancers were dancing in slow motion, but to be fair, we were probably still a little too drunk to notice that from the start) and I told her I thought that it was just the natural glow someone who's Dolly Parton simply carries with them everywhere they go, I was happy. This was the movie I was prepared for. A movie in which the most problematic thing would be stereotypical characters and the wig they hid Christine's real, flawlessly handmade by God herself hair under.

And then, around five minutes in, Christine Baranski's childhood love interest was revealed as she pressed her perfect pointy nose against the window of his shop and sang about her unrequited love.

And suddenly, things started taking turns at a pace I was still way too sleep-deprived for.

Suddenly, in the middle of my general amazement at seeing Christine Baranski do literally anything and laughing loud at her impeccable comedic delivery, there were unresolved daddy issues, hanging prominently at the wall in her marvellously designed house (she literally says "Daddy" at one point and I couldn't help but think that only someone with her vocal skills could keep from making it sound cringe-worthily kinky). One moment, I was clutching my chest above my heart while she was bonding with little bartender Violet and munching on pretzels while downing some whiskey in that elegant way only Christine Baranski can bond with ten year olds who had it rough, eat pretzels and down whiskey, and the next she felt responsible for said girl's mother's death (which she kinda was too, but I'm not the boss of her). I was still busy making fun of how the very annoyingly, but when you're snacking on pizza with extra cheese at nine in the morning also highly funny, slow talking pastor's name was Christian, and suddenly there was a cancer scare.

It was a lot, a hasty sprint from major issue to major issue with a hint of comedic relief every now and then, and it didn't get any less until the very, rather poorly resolved, end.

The entire, constant up and down was followed by the movie's peak of suspense, the near death of precious Violet, something I couldn't even get too invested in because I was still so busy worrying about Christine's MRT results (I was truly fucking worried), not to mention that I hadn't even started to really process the sudden revelation of the love child and how it had affected her character's actions until this point. Was her constant tendency of pushing people away, as we've seen most clearly with her angel in training assistant who's name I cannot recall right now, the result of her broken trust in her father who practically ripped her son away from her after she had just given birth to him? Was it a result of her never getting the closure she needed with plaid flannel wearing Carl she was clearly still in love with? Maybe both? And what of the many issues was it that made her so incredibly shaken up when Violet blamed herself for her mother's death? Was it 'just' due to the fact that the closed pharmacy was on her, or was there more to it? Was it because she had grown up without a mother herself? Or did I miss a major piece of information because I was momentarily distracted, dumbfoundedly staring at Christine's very blue eyes? No time to ponder on that, little Silverinia, because here comes unconscious Violet in an ambulance, WEE WOO WEE WOO WEE WOO!

I'm not going to go in depth about what plot lines I thought were especially carelessly handled and why, real standouts were the sudden forgiveness towards her father who had still acted like a shitty asshole even though he might have had his reasons, because giving the baby up for adoption just wasn't his choice to make, and the fact that I kind of didn't buy how quickly Regina managed to forgive herself, especially for Violet's mother's passing, considering how deeply her tall, slim, dare I say angelic and entrancing figure was buried beneath the weight of all her issues. It felt rushed and incomplete, but that's as detailed as it gets because my major point is something else.

I think this movie made the great mistake of trying to be more than your average, flat, happy ending Christmas movie. I think no one involved thought it was possible to make it a big hit if the only real plot would've been great Dolly Parton music, fun ensemble dance choreographies, Christine Baranski's outstanding acting skills, fun settings and costumes and a redemption arch with as little plot as it could possibly take to make Christine likable to those who aren't already lost forever in the rabbit hole of being obsessed with her (poor fuckers, can't relate). They didn't notice that with the legends that were involved, they could've easily gone the Mamma Mia way. And I think that's why they tried to include heavier plot lines than most creators would've chosen, experiencing loss at an early age, struggling to find closure, dealing with sickness, teenage pregnancy, parents forcing their choices on their children when they affect their childrens' lives first, adoption, and the fear of losing your kid.

It was a lot and I don't want to say that it didn't work because my friend was crying, like, pretty hard and I questioned my entire existence all through the movie in not the worst way, and I did enjoy it a lot while watching. The "grief is love with nowhere to go" line was a real standout, for example, where the attempt of complexity DID work. It positively gave me fleabag season two, "I don't know what to do with it now, with all the love I have for her." - "I'll take it. It sounds lovely. You have to give it to me." feels, and that's about the biggest praise I can come up with. BUT (and this is written in capital letters because it's the big but) I'm also totally convinced that I wouldn't have enjoyed it if they hadn't cast Christine Baranski for the lead role. In my humble opinion, the hasty, not really at all resolved plot of this movie only worked because Christine Baranski is just a fantastic actress. She quirks a mocking eyebrow and you laugh. She parts her perfectly painted red lips and you immediately hang on them because you don't want to miss a single breath she, a literal goddess, graces us mere peasants of people with. She smiles and you're happy. She laughs and even while she's still laughing, you can't wait to hear her do it again. Her eyes fill with tears and you feel goosebumps on your arms, her voice slightly trembles, a breath hitches in her throat and you feel your heart shattering to pieces. As Chuck Lorre once said, this woman could read you the phone book and you would end up laughing tears because she just gets the job done. She knows what she's doing, she's an absolute pro in her game, and it doesn't matter, not even a little bit, what she's working with, because the work she eventually delivers with it is always at a minimum of 200%. I forced my friend to watch this movie with me because I adore this woman, and I felt for this movie because I felt for her. It wasn't the plot that sadly brutally overestimated itself, it wasn't the songs that I obviously enjoyed, nor the comedic elements that truly made me laugh a lot, it was all her. I came for Baranski, and I stayed for Baranski. This woman can do anything. She can even look graceful in a terrible wig job.

(side note / unpopular opinion: I actually didn't think the wig was all too bad. It wasn't good, actually far from good, but for me, nothing can match the awful wig game of Mamma Mia 2. I loathed that wig, I absolutely cannot stand it. So this didn't feel all that terrible. It definitely wasn't the most problematic part about the movie.)

I enjoyed watching this. It was a nice distraction from all the bullshit in the world. Watching it today was the first thing this year that actually brought me something close to excitement about the holiday season, even though everything will be very different and probably not quite as jolly this year. But it just gave me good vibes and as someone who did not watch this as a film reviewer, that's the biggest part of what leads me to enjoy a movie.

Will I watch this again? For sure. Will I enjoy it when I'm not hungover, having freshly done nails and munching delicious pizza for breakfast? Probably not as much, but it'll still have Christine Baranski in it. Would I recommend watching this? If you share my obsession with Queen B, one hundo. If you don't, probably not.

#Christine Baranski #Christmas On The Square #dolly parton #shitty movie reviews by yours truly