struggle bus central

Chris Evans’ clavicle tattoo peeking out from his dress shirt.

Smoke knows you have that confidence in you, you just need a little reassuring! Sometimes he’ll give you a good pep talk before going into a place, lift your chin up and fix something about your outfit he saw wasn’t right. He’ll say something like “Don’t overwork that pretty mind ‘f yers. Ain’t shit you can’t handle.” Or he’s giving acaress of his hand on your cheek, or giving your thigh a squeeze. And after you say what you need to properly your eyes are immediately looking at Smokes for approval. He doesn’t mind though, give you a little curt but pleased nod that makes you wanna fall on top of him and roll around in his warmth while you giggle.

Or when he’s drilling his meaty length inside your sopping walls, your head pulled to the side with hearts in your eyes. Salvating at the sweat dripping down the side of his face that you want to lick up, you’re mewling out, “Is good ‘Lijah, it’s hck- it’s good?”

He lets out a grumble of curses, damned at how sexy you look all fucked out and needy. Pretty pussy clamping down on him like your aching for his cum, his lips fall to your neck, your chin, leaving sloppy kisses on your lips while he gives you slow sledgehammer into your heat. Crown of his head pressing that special spot you love so much.

“Course it is darlin- fuuuuck me, yer wonderful princess.”

It only makes you moan louder, creaming his length as he holds you close, letting your nails claw down his back as he doesn’t stop railing you, only fucking your through it. Pushing your curls back as he’s got your head inbetween his bicep.

He groans, thrusting his cock into you faster, dirtier, “Shit, you can take this baby, can’t you? You’re my good girl, aintchu? Don’tcha wanna make yer husband cum?”

He’s late to things because he thinks he’s better than everyone. He spends hours and hours in the lab without break because he does whatever he wants. He’s forgetful because he doesn’t care about things ‘beneath’ him. Plus he’s smart, he’s got multiple PHDS. People with adhd couldn’t do that right?

He’s literally using his symptoms as a way to feed into the nonchalant, uppity billionaire persona he wears, and doesn’t even know it.

Until he meets a diagnosed Peter Parker who tells him all about getting diagnosed and his symptoms and the whole process. Not only does it shatter his pretty flat understanding of neurodivergence but it sounds an awful alot like HIM.

The weather being one of them.

"Baby, love, please." Kyle whispers, sun not yet peaking through the blinds. He tries to pry your hands from around his waist, and receives a pointed scratch for the effort. "I need to leave, you'll make me late."

"Noooo....is cold...." you whine, scent turning bitter in an attempt to guilt trip gaz. You nuzzle between his shoulder blades, self-soothing.

"I'll be home early, baby." He finally pries your claws off, turning around to scent you quickly. "how about i run a hot bath? Hm?"

"...okay." you finally nod, still pouty. It's starting to make sense to kyle why omegas are always compared to fire.

Kyle was not, in fact, home early.

A grievance you made sure he knew by offering a displeased hiss before you tackled him into a hug. He rumbles in amusement, nipping your jaw "i know, I know. But! I got you a gift! Why don't we try it in the nest, hm?"

That has you perking up, pulling away from his body heat just enough to inspect the simple bag he carries. Kyle's not one for sex toys without consulting you but....you drag him to the bedroom anyways.

Only for him to pull out a small blanket, with a cord attached. Gaz beams like the proudest man on earth, mentally noting to thank john for the advice "it's a heating pad! So you can still he cozy when I leave for work."

"....oh my god, kyle!" You purr, excitedly pulling gaz into the nest, flitting around to plug in the heating pad. You let it draped over your back before crawling on top of kyle and settling down.

"Good, baby?" He grins, petting your arms lazily.

He reeks of anger all the time, scent tinged with citrus and something distinctly chemical. Ghost is the kind of alpha who's presence lingers long after he's left the room, others naturally submitting to him out of survival instincts. He would gut them if he wanted to.

Yet he falls apart so sweetly for you.

"Aw, hey, hi ghost." You smile when a large body drapes over you. No greeting before ghost is shoving his nose into your neck and inhaling deeply "bad day? Hm, big boy?"

The hands running up your side squeeze momentarily, pulling you back against thick fat and muscle "....nest?"

"Mmh. Okay." You nod, tilting your head in anticipation for ghost licking your scent gland like a distressed pup.

Ghost curls up so small in your nest it's a wonder how he takes up so much space usually. He rumbles, self-soothing, while you rub his sides. "it's okay, baby. Just settle down, yeah?"

He always gets like this when the pain is really bad. Severe migraines, muscle pain, trauma. It's a wonder how he crawls out of the nest each morning. You press a kiss to the crown of his head "take your time, pup. I'm right here."

Yes, he has a perfectly good den with specially selected materials just for you, all scented to perfection. Yet you insist on going through his whole house, some new trend with the younger generation about accepting 'all aspects' of a mate...whatever makes you happy, john supposes.

"Okay! I've found lots of stuff!" You happily announce, bringing a laundry basket full of various things to the den for john to review with you. You begin pulling items out, scent light and sweet "can you scent them? They smell kinda stale...also i think you have a spider problem in your attic."

Price ignores the spider comment—mostly because he lost last time he attempted to fix it. The attic is their home, not his—and picks up some of the clothes with a snort. "Kid, these are from my rookie years. I think this one's older than you are."

The sudden wave of pleased omega that hits johns nose is enough answer for why you chose that, then.

"Mh....maybe I should grab the others..." you mumble, still grabbing items and laying them before price while he works on scenting the various shirts and pants you grabbed. He narrows his eyes at the new items.

"....pup, are those just my normal underwear? I have some in my den. Did you take my whole drawer?" He pinches his brows together, looking between the pile of underwear and you. You smile, wiggling in place excitedly, very much pleased with this haul. "Love...you can't have all my underwear. I'm not buying a new wardrobe. How about choosing four?"

Other, younger alphas may have worried about upsetting their omegas, scared of trying to take over nest building. John, however, knows that mates are important in helping their omegas build nests, vetting the materials when their omegas get a little too excited.

You settle on two of his sleep boxers, a pair of briefs, and a jockstrap.

The rest of your bounty is approved, and everything gets tossed into the den so it can develop the proper scent for you. You nuzzle against price in the den, purring "thank you, john. 'M gonna make the perfect nest for us."

"Course you will, love." Price grunts, slinging a large hand across your waist. He tugs you closer until you're practically on top of him before pulling you into a kiss. It's slow, languid, thumbs coming up to massage your scent glands.

John gives you that easy, half-lidded and self-satisfied look "How about we scent your materials properly, eh?"

A fact that his dad had drilled into him at a young age, omega nests are sacred and altering one without permission is akin to slapping them. The emotional torment it would cause is something price is distinctly aware of.

...all the same, price is very much considering doing just that.

"Love, please, baby, I need that." Price kneels at the edge of your nest, hands held out like he's trying to calm down a nervous stray "c'mon, I'll grab you one of my jackets, eh?"

You only frown up at john, curled into your nest with a protective hand slung over his tac-vest. The tac-vest that should still be in his duffle bag, but is currently being help hostage by a very hormonal omega. "Hmm.....no. I need it, sir, it smells exactly like you."

Your little claws dig into the fabric, nuzzling it. Price knows this act well, how you roll onto your back in the nest and give him your saddest eyes when he has to leave for more than a week.

"And all the other materials i gave you, pup? They don't smell like yer alpha?" Price raises a brow, arms crossed. He pushes out his scent a bit, thick and heavy in a way that always makes your mind melt "I could fix that for you, you just have to ask."

You whine, tuck your head into his vest at being caught in a lie. Price knows you so well.

Finally, you admit "...I don't want you to go. My heat is soon, and I really want to spend it with you!"

"Awe, I know, I know." Price soothes, finally reaching a hand into the nest to pet your hair. Absently, one hand travels lower, a bribe, "how about we make sure the whole nest smells like me? Then I take my vest."

"The whole nest?" You perk up, instinctively letting your thighs fall open with little prompting from john "you promise?"

More than just the spiky, rude aggression that most soldiers get after surviving the battlegrounds as long as you have. This king of aggression runs deep, like an animal snapping when pushed and always aiming for the throat.

Price had worried it would be an issue on the team, something he'd have to correct. Not severe enough to put him off of bringing you in.

Turns out, you are more than happy to correct the team yourself.

If johnny gets a bit too comfortable with your omega scent, thinks he can reach into your plate and snag a bite, you're quick to stop him. Grip so bruising around his wrist that he lets out an apologetic whine. Even then you don't let up, growling low and deadly until he bares his throat in submission.

Making johnny submit isn't that shocking. He'd roll over for a pretty beta if they tried. Getting gaz to submit is a bit more impressive.

In the back of a humvee, price driving. You'd had a minor disagreement about choices made on the field, and gaz had a stubborn way of insisting he knew best. Price didn't tell him to stop, but he did chuckle at the sudden yip from gaz when you shoves him into the door of the humvee. A glance back would show you holding gazs nose to your throat, sour-angry omega scent making his instincts burn until he finally submitted.

Price had thought, foolishly, that was the end of it. You getting your place in the pack. That is, until you decided to test ghost.

God do you test him. During sparring at least, smart choice.

Price had never seen bloodshed like that before. He personally sent chocolates to the poor sods who had to clean it up. What could only be described as two feral animals grappling eachother ended with your teeth around ghosts throat and price finally stepping in to pry you off.

The rumors that fight alone caused....people still clear hallways when you and ghost are seen together.

It's not uncommon to see you and ghost going at it in public, just barely following the terms price set. Many paychecks have gone to fixing destruction of property, but you always reek of pleased omega when he's the first to back off. Price knows you love it.

All those hormones in your body deciding this time, you'll definitely get pupped. Which leads to screaming about putting on weight for the pups you'll surely have.

Pizza, cake, fruits, drinks. It all sounds amazing in your heat-induced hunger. You eat until you're full, then keep eating because your instincts purr at every bite.

Which leads to now. Your stomach uncomfortably full with every move you make, crawling into your nest and clambering atop of gaz. You whine, flop down on top of him with a quiet oof.

"Tummy hurts, baby?" He asks, clearly knowing the answer by the way he smoothes a hand over your bloated stomach. "Not gonna throw up again, are you?"

You groan, cuddle up further for the warmth and partially to spite gaz. He indulgently pushes a soothing scent, something to make you feel safe. Omegas feeling vulnerable after a heat-induced binge could negatively affect health.

Gaz offers you a kiss to the forehead, two large arms wrapped around your torso. He doesn't mention the fact you do this every heat, or that a pup really isn't likely.

That's it! Is that too much to ask for? Something delicious in the dead of night to hopefully cure the absolutely dreadful sleep you've been having. You've always slept better on a full stomach, and a grilled cheese is easy to make.

Or, so you thought.

Turns out, cooking anything on less than three hours of sleep the past two days will result in flames so tall they touch the ceiling. Which led to the hottest fireman you've ever seen carrying you down a ladder after you realized the fire blocked your tiny entrance hallway.

"You alright, love?" The man sits you down gently. Somewhere between your panic and his attempt to soothe he introduced himself as kyle.

"...you're the most attractive man I've ever met." You say honestly, sleep deprivation having zapped your filter.

"Sir...what the actual fuck?" You grimace, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

You're still stood in your ratty, oversized pajamas you alwayd wear. Blanket wrapped around you, the pink bunny slipped ghost bought you the only thing keeping your toes from freezing. Blearily, you look at the clock "it's one in the morning. On a weekend. On my leave."

Stood in the middle of your living room, cloaked in shadows without bothering to turn the lights on. Gaz tilts his head, then goes right back to very loudly sweeping the floor.

"....right. awesome. Glad you're happy, kyle." You huff, turning into the kitchen to flick on the light.

It's not...unusual for gaz to get like this. You've seen it maybe twice before on base. Once he spent the entire night running laps, the other you found him after dark in the gym.

You learned that he gets restless. Enough so that he breaks in to your apartment to clean the place.

You brew some coffee for you and tea for him, hoping to level out the playing fields a bit. You emerg with two warm cups, mumbling "tea, kyle. With honey, the kind you like."

He doesn't respond, of course, so you tuck yourself into the corner of your couch and wait. Kyle has moved on to dusting the walls. Vaguely, you wonder if he ever cleans anyone else's apartments.

"Come sit with me," you croon when he finally pauses to sip at the drink. Gaz stares blankly for a moment, and you watch as he slowly slips back into his body, eyes wrinkling in that subtle smile. "You've worked hard enough."

You wouldn't know it, but just being close to you helps him feel better, helps ground him. Your presence on the couch while he cleaned...it helped more than he'd admit.

Kyle falls asleep with his face mushed into your shoulder, and through the curtains you watch the sunrise. It's...nice.

You hardly had time to react when the building came down. The only thing that registered was the sudden, deafening sound of wood beams splitting under the force if an explosion.

You should be terrified right now, mind lagging behind and trying to survey where you've been hurt or not.

Instead all you can focus on is the sharp, comforting scent of ghost.

The alpha is bowed over you, arms braced on either side of your head and knees squeezing your hips in the tight space. Every inhale brings in his scent and it's—

Comforting.

"Hey! Hey, are you with me, soldier?" His voice finally registers past the thumping of your blood. You let out a weak whine, your own instincts overwhelmed, and feel him physically exhale "okay. You broken?"

A shake of your head, and he calms down more. That comforting scent makes you calm down too, and you belated realize this is the first time you've properly smelt him.

He smells like leather, wood, a slight metallic note. It makes the beta in your warm and happy, you've always mentally considered him pack. Despite the debris in the air, your crane up in the small space to shamelessly rub your cheek into his neck.

"Fuckin' hell– really?" Ghost grunts above you, knees squeezing you tighter for a second.

"You...smell nice." You mumble, almost dazed.

Ghost curses more, says something about an 'instinct haze' but you don't focus on it. Instead, you nuzzle further against his scent gland, purring. You hardly notice the hard line pressing into your side, or the growing change in his scent, aroused from the close contact with the beta he's been eyeing for months.

"Christ runt–" ghost shifts, head dipping until your foreheads knock together "settle down. I can't– just stop right now, okay?"

You nod, because your alpha wants you to. You'd do anything for him.

Ghost bites his tongue and tries to listen through the rubble for the team. You're out of it, and he wont have you like this. If he takes you as a mate he wants to earn it.