#pocketful of posies chapter 6
Text
Love in a Mist - Chapter 8
Pairing: Hellcheer Regency AU or Regency!Eddie Munson x OFC (for more info, see A/N of Chapter 1)
Summary: Christine Conyngham, a young debutante whose marital prospects are less than ideal, believes her happiness is secure when she falls in love with Joshua Craven, the handsome future Duke of Hauxwell. However, after her lack of a fortune prevents her and Joshua from marrying, Christine impulsively accepts the proposal of Edward Munson, the eccentric Baron Hurstfield, who is in need of a wife to obtain an inheritance. But with her heart still pining after Joshua, can Christine learn to love her husband and build a life with him?
Series Warnings: sloooooow burn (it's a fucking novel, I'm sorry), angst, suicide attempt, mentions of domestic abuse, some smut in later chapters. Also, my deepest apologies to the people of Yorkshire for the accent and any other details I might have butchered.
Chapter Warnings: smut, some angst, idiots in love
Chapter word count: 3k
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Christine woke to the banging and clashing of the chambermaid coming up the stairs with her pans and brooms to clean out the hearths and light the fire. She quickly gathered up her nightdress and shawl and stole back to her room before the maid arrived. It was the most natural thing in the world for husband and wife to share a bed, but she felt shy at the thought of the maid walking in on her and Edward, with their naked limbs all tangled up and their clothes strewn haphazardly about the room, all speaking plainly of what they had been up to the previous night.
What had happened between them? Christine went back over the night as she got dressed, her cheeks burning at the memories. Was it simply because it had been over half a year since she last felt a human touch, let alone a passionate one? Now in the cold light of day, away from Edward, she thought about Joshua again, and another feeling, almost like the guilt of being unfaithful, gnawed at her. She knew it was nonsense - Edward was her husband, and if she was unfaithful at all, it would be to him,for thinking of another man. And Joshua was married as well. But she couldn't help feeling she had betrayed, if not Joshua himself, then her love for him.
She opened her jewelry box and found the posy ring she had hidden in its bottom all those months ago. The engraving stood out at her. "My love shall last 'til life be past." She didn't love Edward, she told herself. She had grown fond of him, and after last night, in more ways than one, but when she thought of him, it was never with that ache in her heart as when she thought of Joshua. But what had loving Joshua brought her, except for heartache?
Making up her mind, she slipped the ring into her pocket, put on a cloak, and went outside. The rain had stopped, though the ground was still wet and muddy after the flood, but that didn't stop her. She walked toward the old abbey ruins from which Hurstfield Hall took its stones, where a little stream of the River Ure ran past. It was overflowing now, screaming and foaming over the boulders. As Christine stood on its bank, looking at the water, she made a vow. Something similar to her wedding vows, but it was more to herself than to her husband. Edward was her husband, and he was kind, and he deserved happiness as much as herself. So even though he had not promised her happiness, she would do her best to make both of them happy. And that meant saying goodbye to the memories of Joshua Craven, once and for all.
She took the ring out of her pocket and looked at it one last time. Then, without really knowing why, she tried it on. It hung loosely off her finger, too large. A laugh escaped her. All this time, she had been treasuring it, and it didn't even fit. Perhaps this was a sign.
Christine threw the ring into the stream and walked away without a glance backward.
***
Her heart was so light, it almost gave wings to her feet. She practically flew back to Hurstfield, couldn't wait to find Edward, to take him into her arms and tell him how everything would be different from now on.
But he wasn't in the house by the time she got back. Apparently she had been gone for much longer than she thought, for the maid was clearing up in the breakfast room already.
"Where is his lordship?" she asked Mrs. Wayne, who came in to supervise.
"He's gone, m'lady," replied the housekeeper.
"Gone! Gone where?"
"To th' farms to see how much damage there were. I told him he was in no shape to be goin' out, but he said he'd take th' gig." Turning away, she mumbled, her Yorkshire accent getting broader as her annoyance grew, "An' once that lad got it into his head to do somethin', there's no stoppin' him."
Christine thanked Mrs. Wayne. She felt rather disappointed, but she told herself surely he would not be gone for too long, not after the night they'd had. She spent the morning in the parlor, going over the things she would say to him. But he made no appearance at dinner, and her hopeful anticipation gave way for apprehension, though Mrs. Wayne assured her that the water had gone down and the roads were passable now, so there was no danger.
After dinner, Christine's anxiety overcame her, and she set out for a walk in the faint hope of meeting Edward on the way, and if not, at least she could exercise away some of the nervousness that wouldn't let her sit still. However, the road was so covered with mud that she couldn't get very far and was forced to return, tired, restless, and fretful. Just as she climbed the stone wall surrounding the field at the western end of Hurstfield Hall, she saw the gig rounding the front drive and going through the gate, Edward at the reins. Not caring who might see her, Christine jumped over the wall and chased after it, but it was gone before she could reach the front of the house.
Mrs. Wayne, waiting in the hall, threw up her hands upon seeing Christine. "Master Edward was just here, askin' for you," she said. "He was so vexed when I told him you were gone for your walk, as he had to leave again." The old woman peered at Christine's flushed, downcast face. "I hope I'm not forgettin' my place in sayin' this, m'lady, but Master Edward can be puzzlin' in his ways," she said kindly. "You mun't mind him."
Christine had to smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Wayne. I don't mind." But she did mind. She minded a lot. What was Edward playing at, disappearing for hours when he knew she was waiting for him?
These thoughts plagued her all through the afternoon as she worked in the garden. The conservatory was finished now, and she and Henderson were supervising the moving of plants into it. They couldn't agree on how to arrange the flowers for the best effect. Even as she argued with the old man, Christine's whole body was on alert, listening for any sound of the approaching gig. Dusk had started to fall when she finally heard the familiar crunch of the gravel drive, and she was so flustered that she almost dropped the pot of geranium she was holding. She started for the house.
"But where do you reckon we should put th' pink ones?" Henderson called after her, holding some geraniums of his own. "Not next to th' purple, that'll look a fright."
"Oh, wherever you want," she said irritably. The old man was going to be cross with her, but that would have to wait.
She ran through the parlor and the drawing room and into the study, thinking Edward would be there, but he wasn't. She heard his voice coming in from the hall and rushed out, ready to throw herself into his arms, only to stop dead in her track. Edward wasn't alone. Leaning on a cane, he was showing another man around the hall, a middle-aged gentleman with a shock of red hair and a friendly, freckled face.
"Ah, my dear," Edward said upon seeing her, as if he hadn't been away from home for nearly that whole day without a word to her. Christine's eyes narrowed. He only called her my dear when he had some dissembling up his sleeves. "This is Mr. Mayfield" - indicating the red-haired man - "He's an engineer from Edinburgh, here to survey for a new aqueduct. I was fortunate to run into him in Hurst, he has the most excellent advice on how to repair our roads and bridges damaged by the flood. I've invited him to supper. Mr. Mayfield, my wife."
"Good evening, ma'am," the engineer said. "I hope I'm not imposing on you."
Christine returned his greeting, though she was fuming inside. Used as she was to Edward's penchant of bringing the oddest guest home at all hours, she couldn't believe that he would do such a thing on this day of all days. But there was nothing she could do but to smile her way through supper, while Edward and Mr. Mayfield engaged in an enthusiastic discussion of road and bridge-building. She dreaded that Edward would ask the engineer to spend the night as well, but luckily he had already booked a room at the village inn.
Once Mr. Mayfield was taken back to Hurst in the carriage, Christine thought surely, now, she and Edward would have their talk. But Edward disappeared into his study without a glance at her. Christine was certain now that he was avoiding her. But why? Was he displeased with her still? What had she done? She thought she would give him some space to gather his thoughts, but when the clock struck eleven and he still hadn't repaired to his room, she decided to give him a piece of her mind.
She went into the study without knocking. Edward was sitting behind the desk in a high-backed chair, scribbling some notes on a piece of paper with what she thought was exaggerated concentration. He didn't even look up when she came in.
"Aren't you coming to bed?" she asked.
"No, no, you go ahead," he mumbled, distractedly scratching his chin with the quill.
"What are you doing?"
"Figuring out how best to distribute relief to all the farms affected by the flood," he said.
Christine swallowed the annoyance scratching at her throat. "No, I mean what are you doing to me? Why are you trying to avoid me?"
At that, he finally looked up. "Why do you think I'm trying to avoid you?"
"I don't think it, I know!" she hissed, trying to keep her voice low. "You were gone the whole day, and when you were finally come home, you invited that old windbag..."
"Mr. Mayfield is much respected in his profession."
"I don't care about Mr. Mayfield!" she shouted. "Why were you avoiding me?"
Edward put the quill down. "I could ask you the same thing."
This was too much. He was deliberately provoking her now. "What?! You think I was avoiding you?"
"What was I supposed to think?" he said, scrunching up his nose in what she'd come to recognize as a sign of his anger. "When I woke up, you were gone. I waited for you for hours at breakfast, but you didn't come. At noon, I had to drive out of my way to come back here, and you were gone too. And when I came back with Mr. Mayfield, you were in the garden and didn't come in for ages! What else could it be?"
Christine's anger slowly disappeared when she realized they had simply kept missing each other. Her early morning departure was the trouble. It put them at cross-purposes. It had made Edward think she didn't want to see him, while she had assumed he would know what she wanted. But how could he? She looked at the scowl beneath his fringe of curls and resolved never to expect him to read her mind again.
"I wasn't trying to avoid you, you silly boy," she said, her voice softened. "I was waiting for you."
"You were?" He looked at her in sullen disbelief, but a twinkle in his eyes and a smile at the corner of his lips told her otherwise. "Waiting... to do what?"
"This."
She walked around the desk, took his face in her hands, and kissed him with all the force that her anger and frustration had built up throughout the entire day. He rose from the chair to meet her kiss with such eagerness that she realized he must've been waiting for her all day as well. Then his injured ankle gave way and he ended up pulling her down with him, onto his lap. The sudden move hiked Christine's dress up over her knees. "Mrs. Wayne may still be awake," she said, pretending to be scandalized. "What if she hears us?"
"Not if we're very, very quiet," he murmured, his lips seeking hers again.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, while he placed one hand behind her back, and the other moved under the tangle of skirt and petticoat, finding its way to the top of her stocking. With trembling fingers, he undid the ribbon holding the stocking in place and slowly slipped it down her thigh. She let out a shaky breath. That morning, she had wondered if she responded to him simply because her body was so starved to be touched. But now she knew. It wasn't just any touch she craved. It was his. He had a way of touching her... it was as if there was nothing else in the world for him but her. He wasn't just taking his pleasure from her or pleasuring her so she could return the favor, but bringing her along with him. It wasn't a transaction, but a journey they took together.
As he slid his hand back up her now-naked leg and slipped a little deeper under her petticoat, a ripple of desire crashed through her body before pooling into a throbbing ache at her center, made all the more acute by a growing hardness underneath her. She sat up and swung a leg around so she was straddling him. Edward raised an eyebrow.
"Shall we move to the bedroom?" he asked.
"No," she whispered and unfastened his breeches.
Realizing her intention, he gripped her waist and pulled her to him. She tried to move against him, but he was holding her so tightly she couldn't maneuver. Grabbing his shoulders, she rolled her hips toward him, guiding him, and he arched his hips to match hers. Both gasped as their bodies connected.
"Like this?" he asked on a caught breath.
"Yes," she breathed. "Yes."
They soon found a rhythm, and Christine could no longer tell if the fire between them was hers or his or theirs, only that it was building, electrifying where their bare skin touched, scorching through the thin muslin of her gown and the linen of his shirt, while they moved as one, pulses pounding together, lips brushing against each other, breathing in each other's air, building and building and building until it erupted in a surge of primal pleasure that rocked through them both.
A cry escaped her but was quickly swallowed up in his kiss. Their breathing slowed, and the kiss became gentle, then turned into suppressed giggles. "I think we should definitely move to the bedroom now," Edward said, brushing Christine's hair out of her face. The tenderness of that simple gesture was enough to make her want him all over again.
Much later, as they were lying in bed, spent but sated, Christine said, "Edward?"
"Hmm?" His breath wafted across her hair. He was behind her, his chest to her back, his arm wrapped around her.
"Why didn't you do... any of that... before? On our wedding night?"
"Because you didn't want me to."
"But I thought that husbands would just take from wives what they want. That it was their right to do so."
"Our 'right'?" Edward's voice turned bleak. "I've witnessed my mother suffer at the hands of my father enough. I vowed I would never, ever force myself on a woman."
Christine turned around to look at him. His eyes were dark again, like the day he first told her about his mother. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that look away.
"You are not your father," she said, reaching up a hand to caress his face. He smiled, and some of the darkness faded. "But what about... that second time?" she continued. "When I came to you?"
"Ah, well..." Edward looked uncomfortable. "That was my own fragile ego, I'm afraid," he said, blushing. "You were coming on too strongly and I thought that my... um, lack of experience would be too noticeable."
At this, Christine sat straight up. "That was it?" she said, incredulous. "That was it?! Of all the stupid, idiotic..." All her pain and anger came back in a flash. She wanted to hit him. "Do you have any idea how much I've tortured myself over it? Had you let me stay, I wouldn't have run away, Will wouldn't have been shot, and there would have been none of this misery!"
"I know, I know." He sat up as well, took her hand, and kissed it. "I'm sorry. I blame myself. When I proposed to you, I wasn't thinking what it would mean to be married," he said earnestly. "I just thought it would solve both of our problems. And when you became so miserable, I was frightened. I... I didn't know what to do. I barely knew how to live with another person, let alone a wife. I should have been honest with you. I pride myself on it, yet I was too much of a coward to be honest when it mattered the most." He kissed her hand again. "I can only thank God that you're still here with me, so I can atone for those mistakes."
His kisses soothed her more than she wanted to admit, and she remembered her own fears and self-doubt. Relenting, she laced her fingers through his. "I suppose we both still have a lot to learn about this whole marriage thing, don't we?"
"I think we're doing quite well, considering." He took her into his arms. "And we have the rest of our lives to figure it out."
The last thing Christine thought, as their mouths met again, was that there would be no more running back to her bedroom in the morning. Let the maids see what they see.
Chapter 9
#hellcheer#hellcheer fic#hellcheer au#regency au#eddie munson#eddie munson au#eddie x chrissy#eddie munson x oc#joseph quinn#grace van dien#joseph quinn fic#joseph quinn smut#eddie munson smut#hellcheer smut
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
MY CAT IS MISSING MASTERLIST
☆ Character Sheets ☆
▪︎TOMMY || RANBOO || TUBBO
-> BENCHTRIO
▪︎WILBUR || NIKI || QUACKITY
-> LAKETRIO
▪︎TECHNO || SCHLATT
▪︎CELLBIT || ROIER
🎧 PLAYLISTS 🎧
• Wilbur // YT LINK
• Tommy // YT LINK
❗MORE MCIM❗
True Start - Where it all began. [The actual start. Laketrio centered. Canon.]
World's Worst Vacation [Quackity Centric mini-series]
Five Short Stories [Missing People-Centric mini-series]
O. MY CAT IS MISSING
PROLOGUE
[PART I]
[PART X]
[PART XI]
CHAPTER 3
Now Playing: Prologue
CHAPTER 4
MISSING
I. GALLERY
VID_1
VIDEO_LOG_1
II. SNIPPETS
[Scattered mini comics I made in no particular order. || Now including friend content! Marked with a ◇!]
NOW WITH MORE WRITING! [AO3]
Curfew
OOPS!
Ghost Hunting
LAKE
PHOTOS
ROAD || [AO3]
Move [AO3]
ONE WAY TICKET TO PARADISE
FOUND
A Pocket Full Of Posies
Ring Around The Rosie
Rock-A-Bye-Baby
Frère Jacques
Busy
EPILOGUE: TECHNOBLADE [AO3]
III. LORE
[Little stuff that isn't the comic, info junk!]
PUPIL SHAPES || EYES
GHOSTS/NOT THEM || MONSTERS
IV. DUB CANON
[It's not canon!]
OLD PROLOGUE
Dirt
AUDIO LOG #6
CONFRONTATION #1
Help
#btw the yt links might have different versions of songs#thats why i added both#OR songs not on spotify#my cat is missing au#mcim#masterlists.txt
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 6
You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.
pairings: dark!Avengers x reader
word length: 2.9K
chapters: 6/?
warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. more detailed content warnings are included at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers, click through the read more, CTRL + F “content warnings”.
notes: slightly shorter than my usual, but i needed to get some stuff fixed up. if ya’ll like my stories please consider donating to my ko-fi— a bitch is poor lmao
Steve swept you up in his arms and turned to deposit you on the landing upstairs, evidently trusting the others to keep you contained for a moment. There was an audible scuffle going on in the den, Bucky would be heard growling from outside—snapping at someone who made the mistake of asking how he’d gotten out there so fast? Tony was growling at Peter who looked seconds away from begging for forgiveness.
“You guys made it safe, I’m happy to see you Nat,” Steve drew the redhaired woman into his arms and sighed in relief, but you couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement; honestly you were having trouble thinking, your brain clouded with the sudden onset of absolute and uncontrolled panic.
The moment the black-haired man had been pulled away by the delta currently stomping back up the stairs, clarity had returned to you like a slap in the face. The golden fog that obscured your vision immediately dissipated and just as quickly you’d been overwhelmed with gut wrenching fear. You didn’t actually remember kicking Steve in the face or making a break for the stairs, but evidently you had and you cursed your hindbrain for running towards the stairs—you should’ve jumped straight out the window; you had a better chance at out running Bucky and whoever else was down there than the two alpha primes and their surrounding packmates.
Before you could even take a step towards the still wide-open window, the black-haired man appeared with a green flash and wrapped around you tightly. “Shhh , pet, no. No windows for you, darling, come now—back to your nest.”
In a moment of truly unusual harmony, your consciousness and hindbrain agreed that the bed was the last place you wanted to be. That wasn’t your bed, the omega hissed tearfully, you’d never made a nest—that wasn’t yours. It could barely be called a nest, even. There hadn’t been any careful consideration regarding the placement of the pillows and blankets, there were no articles of clothing or soft items that had been scavenged or stolen to elicit a feeling of safety or comfort. Worst of all was the way it smelled. Obviously, it didn’t reek, the mix of individual scents wasn’t a bad conglomeration, but your hindbrain whined at the unfamiliarity. This wasn’t your pack’s scent.
The cohesion was jarring, and you groaned. Regardless of the reasoning, your hindbrain was aware that you didn’t get to have a pack and that reminder always hurt. It desperately desired one, but an omega’s primary objective was survival.
After all, you in all of your fully conscious state knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you would never have a pack—it wasn’t a matter of wanting or not wanting at this point in your life. You were too old to be regressed into the type of omega that packs wanted, your body too badly reliant on the chemical reactions produced by suppressants after fifteen years to stop taking them. At your age, to be found by a pack meant death.
They would get sick of trying to fix you. You’d die from quitting the suppressants cold turkey. They’d beat you for disobedience until your body gave up. You were nearly thirty and that was ancient for an unbound omega and you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks. Especially an old dog who was bound and determined not to be taught.
“LOKI!” Bucky bellowed as he stomped past Steve and the redhead on the stairs, looking three shades past furious.
The man holding you let go very quickly after that, spinning you away and moving to intercept the furious delta with an equally unpleasant expression. Why couldn’t you have just fucking kept it together upon meeting Bruce—that blood in the water, shark nosed asshole, if you had reigned in your panic there was no way he could’ve scented you through your suppressants. Steve was a different story, but if you’d been quick and calm you probably could’ve made it.
You scanned the room quickly; Bruce was on the bed, checking on Wanda. Bucky and Loki were on the floor fighting, half entangled with Peter and Sam who were doing their best to put their own fight aside to keep the deltas from killing each other. Steve was still halfway down the stairs with the other redhead, talking to her quietly. Tony was—
“Okay, princess, okay,” Tony was wrapped tightly around you from behind, carefully keeping your head braced between his chin and shoulder when you tried to thrash. “This isn’t fair to you, you’re way too fragile for this right now. Put your head here, breathe with me.”
“Please let me go,” you didn’t realize you were crying until you spoke, words coming out in sobs. “I don’t want to die like this, please—”
“You are not going to die, little love,” Thor sounded so sad from where he came to stand in front of you. “I’m not going to bond you, not while you’re so upset. But the results of the tests Bruce ran showed that you are in danger. I cannot allow that and no matter how angry you are with us, we will not let you suffer needlessly.”
“I’m not suffering! I swear, I swear I’m not suffering I’m, I’m happy! I’m happy living my life the way I have been. Please, let me have the choice, I want to be alone, it makes me happy!”
Trying to explain to a literal God why you deserved personal agency was an exhausting business, especially when said God was as condescending as Thor. His indulgent and sad smile was nearly enough to tip you over the edge, but there really wasn’t a point in getting angry—he obviously couldn’t even fathom the concept that what he was doing was wrong. It’s not like you could do anything anyway, you weren’t built for violence but for running away. Every bone in your body vibrated with rage; the injustice was overwhelming.
For fifteen whole years you’d been just fine. You would’ve continued to be just fine, if it weren’t for some super nosed freaks crossing your path. What were the odds of the only people in the world who could scent you from beneath more than a decade’s worth of suppressant use would have a cabin in Quebec that you happened to clean—and run into said people because they happened to show up early; an incredibly unusual situation.
It made you think about Mrs. Hunt. She’d only called to give you a heads up because of the last time, when the homeowner had tried to assault you even while he’d thought that you were a beta . You wondered how long it would take her to realize something was wrong; it was getting late and you’d yet to return her cart despite telling her you’d be there shortly.
The real question would be whether she tried to help or not once she discovered your presentation. She could try to help, try to stick them with omega theft, but they could claim civic duty like Peter had earlier. Besides, that was contingent upon her wanting to help you considering you’d lied to her for so many years.
“You’re so distressed, won’t you let me purr for you?”
“Don’t! Don’t you dare take away—”
“Little love, please—”
“Don’t call me that. You don’t even know me,” you spat, turning to address the room at large. “What kind of fucking superheros are you? Let go of me! Let me go!”
Tony sighed and hefted you up into his arms, one wrapped around your torso while the other hooked under your knees and pinned you carefully across his body. You struggled uselessly against his strong hold; he wasn’t as strong as Thor or Steve, but his bicep was massive next to your head and you could feel his muscles through his clothes as he walked to the bed.
“We can’t, princess,” he murmured into the side of your head as he lowered both of you to the bed, sitting propped against a mass of pillows in the corner. “We’ll never find an unbound omega in your age range again. Plenty of omegas have been offered to us, but they’re all practically children. You’re our last chance—”
“There are plenty! You said plenty! Pick the oldest who wants to be in this fucking shit show and leave me alone!” Everyone tensed when the tone in your voice approached a shriek.
“We’re not taking an omega who’s not even legal to drink—”
“That alpha is like eighteen!” You tried to gesture to Peter, who gaped at you like you’d wounded him, but your arms were still pinned tightly to your sides.
“Peter is twenty-four, actually,” Tony spoke with mirth when Peter jumped onto the bed and crawled until he was pressed against Tony’s side and your back. “And before you ask, Wanda is twenty-six.”
“We’re so lucky to have found you,” the alpha half purred, pressing his nose into the back of your neck. “We’ll make you happy, happier than you are now.”
“It’s gonna be a rough start,” Bruce laid down in the nest a few feet away, welcoming the woman you recognized as the Black Widow into his arms when she slithered into the bed. “We have to balance your hormones, or you will die. You wouldn’t have lasted another year on those suppressants.”
“Death would be a reprieve,” you hissed shortly, freezing when the tone of the room immediately changed.
All attention was suddenly on you, Bruce still making direct eye contact with those sad puppy eyes, “I know that feeling, sweetheart—”
“We will do it another way then,” Thor interrupted, sending Bruce a quieting but loving look. “I said I would not bond you while you are in distress anda I will never break a promise to you. Open your mouth, this will be quick.”
Steve seemed to sigh in response and followed to stand next to the other prime, “I lost my chance. You’ll help her?”
Thor leveled the shorter blond with a careful look before nodding, both showing signs of deference and affection and respect that you did not care for. The rattle of a belt prompted Tony to turn you, setting you carefully between his legs while continuing to hold down your arms with what could appear to be an affectionate bear hug. He even linked his fingers with yours, squeezing gently as you tried to squirm.
“No. No, no no no, that’s disgusting, I won’t—”
“Shhh , I’ll do all the work little love, all you need to do is swallow.”
He was jerking his cock carefully, a flick of his wrist near the head catching your eye. That was a dangerous weapon, the same way you’d come to learn Steve’s was and you had no intention of letting it anywhere near your mouth. You clamped your lips shut, teeth grinding.
“Stubborn,” Peter snorted a laugh and you would’ve snapped at him had his hand not dove between your thighs, fingers gliding through the slick lips of your cunt until he found your clit.
You had to stop yourself from screeching, the head of Thor’s cock directly in front of your face. “Very. Come on now, open up.”
The fingers pinching your nose shut came as a shock, you’d crushed your eyes shut out without realizing it and they snapped open when your face was assaulted. Steve was kneeling on the bed, carefully cutting of your air supply with one hand and stroking your head with the other.
“Come on, precious, you’ve gotta breathe,” he stated softly, smiling when you were forced to pull your lips back to gasp for breath—until he realized your teeth were still locked together. “Really ‘mega?”
The next thing you knew his thumb was shoving against your molars, literally prying your jaw open. There was no way to fight it without hurting yourself, especially once he wedged his thick thumb between your top and bottom teeth. You barely had a second to anticipate the horror before an unnecessarily large cock found it’s way between your lips.
You tried to shriek, your brain finally catching up to the whole series of events, but it was no use. His scent was overwhelming and his dick stretched your lips, your jaw forced completely open. Thor groaned, a triggering noise as he very carefully pressed forward until your mouth was completely full and he was settled against you tongue.
“Suck for me, little love, just a little,” he grunted, just barely working his member between your lips while his huge hand stroked the rest.
It took a surprisingly small amount of time for a massive load of cum to shoot into your mouth. It was thick, and the way that Thor growled immediately made your pupils blow wide like you’d done a line of coke.
Your body went lax immediately and you swallowed on instinct when a hand gently rubbed your throat. The fuzz in your brain was the result of arousal, a brutal orgasm that rocked your body at the sound in combination with your body’s sheer delight at the taste of alpha cum. Somewhere you realized that was disgusting but the haze in your brain made you more focused on the hand between your thighs rather than the indignity.
“Man, this shit ain’t fair,” Sam complained, panting from the exertion of trying to prevent Loki and Bucky from killing each other. “They get to cuddle and we—Hey! Quit that, man!”
“All of you stop fighting,” Steve’s alpha order was brutal and effective.
The sounds of scuffling from behind Thor stopped immediately and there were huffs and snarls and low grumbles but the nest started shifting all around you. You were dropped back to lay against Tony’s chest, having inadvertently swallowed the entirety of the god’s massive load.
“She’s so cute,” Wanda cooed from somewhere to your left.
“We’ll need to go over what we’re doing from here,” Steve sighed once everyone had settled, still watching your dazed expression with a small smile. “But let’s just… nest for a bit, okay?”
The word nest triggered something in your half alpha-cum stoned brained and you looked around the den with a displeased expression. It was a terrible nest; all of the pillows and blankets were in weird heaps and the scent was so wrong. You didn’t really want to nest here, your hindbrain grumbled in agreement, but you’d fix the damn thing. You whined and wriggled until Steve gave Tony the go ahead to stop fully restraining you.
The bed was incredibly soft, which was an upside and crawling across it was like sinking your knees into clouds as you collected the soft heaps of blankets and pillows as you went. You wanted everything off so you could start from scratch, brain muddled by the wrongness of the current layout. You wanted to wash the sheets, the pillow cases, the blankets, all of it. The scent wasn’t right.
“Help her.” It was a quiet request from the Black Widow, who’d also started shifting around to remove the items. “She doesn’t like it like this.”
It was easier to get everything pushed away and in neat piles with the packs’ help, everyone immediately moving to help organize the pillows. You only snapped at the blond beta—Hawkeye, your memory supplied— once for putting a soft blanket on the pile with the not soft blankets. He immediately gave an apologetic burr to which your hindbrain purred back instinctually; evidently a good reaction.
“Why does she like Clint? They haven’t even spoken.”
“She doesn’t like him, she snarled at him!”
“She hasn’t purred at anyone else!”
“Shut up, fuckin’ idiot.”
The noise you made was one of discontent and disdain, the arguing deltas immediately quieting. You didn’t argue with the chirping growl that meant displeased omega, not in a real pack where the goal was to keep omegas pleased and docile. Somewhere your brain reminded you that this wasn’t your pack but the alpha hormones filling your blood and confusing you and yet somehow all you could focus on was whining and pushing at pack members to get them out of the way as your rearranged; clicking your teeth grumpily when you were handed a blanket instead of a pillow or vice versa.
You found yourself being corralled back into the corner, where Natasha and Wanda immediately wrapped themselves around you. Thor had found Bruce and settled beside and settled near your feet where you’d built an intricate nest wall of pillows and blankets. Two of the deltas, Tony and Loki seemed to be glaring at each other—even as Tony laid himself completely on top of the other and they both relaxed into comfortable holds.
It was interesting, watching the pack dynamics as they moved between each other. Clint wrapped around Natasha from behind the same way Carol found her way behind Wanda. Peter had weaseled his way into curling against Loki’s side while tossing a leg over the man’s hip, subsequently laying it over the backs of Tony’s thighs. Sam, Bucky and Steve all found their way into a neat grouping on the bed closest to the stairs, piled as close to the subsequent piles of superheros as possible.
There was some sort of pattern beginning to form in the back of your brain but you were still too confused, too sucked into your own omega hindbrain by the overwhelming introduction of alpha hormone to your system. Instead of following the thought through to the end, you found yourself warm and comfortable and full and falling asleep tucked between the groupings of presentations as if it wasn’t totally, 100% against your will.
content warnings: forced cum eating, chemical manipulation, dead dove: do not eat
#avengers x reader#steve rogers x reader#thor x reader#bucky barnes x reader#tony stark x reader#carol danvers x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#bruce banner x reader#clint barton x reader#peter parker x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#sam wilson x reader#dark!avengers#dark!AU#pocketful of posies chapter 6
681 notes
·
View notes
Text
FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 9 (Mafia AU)
Summary: While Rus is off meeting the other employees of Edge's business, Blue has his own business to attend to.
Notes: Oh, how to warn for this. Red is Not a Nice Man, no, and Blue is in way over his pretty little head. Hints of coercive sex? Nothing Mature-rated in this chapter, though.
Tags: Spicyhoney, Cherryberry, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8
~~*~~
Read on AO3
or
Read it here!
~~*~~
As much as it pained him to watch his brother go, when Papy turned around to look at him Blue waved him impatiently on, painfully ignoring how much that strangely vulnerable glance reminded him of the long-ago first day he’d shooed his little brother into the small schoolhouse back in Snowdin.
What he really wanted was to scoop Papy up like he was still that small child and run, to carry him away from all this. Whatever that chat last night with the younger Fell was about, it confirmed his suspicions that his little brother was in far deeper than he’d hoped, and for the moment, all Blue could do was hope Papy was treading water.
Across the table, Red was watching him and despite that ever-present grin, his expression was unreadable as a blank page. Blue made a show of wiping his face with his napkin and pushing his plate aside. What little he’d eaten was churning uneasily as it incorporated with his magic until nausea threatened. Resolutely, Blue swallowed it down. He’d agreed to this, now he needed to see it through to the end.
“you done?” Red asked with mocking solicitousness.
“Yes,” Blue said. He let his starry eye lights glimmer, his own mocking buried beneath honeyed sweetness as he said, “Thank you so much for the breakfast. It was certainly—” He paused only briefly, then added, “generous of you.”
That razor grin widened, sharp enough to cut through bone, and Blue suspected his true emotions weren’t as buried as he’d hope. “oh, honey,” Red chuckled, “we ain’t even got to generous yet.” He stood up, groaning through a joint-cracking stretch and scratched lewdly at the back of his pelvis. “okay, baby blue, let’s go.”
Red led the way to the door and held it open, bowing exaggeratedly, “after you.”
“I don’t know where we’re going,” Blue protested, hanging back.
Another sharp grin, but the humor crumbled around it, those marrow-red eye lights going hard, “uh huh. go through the fucking door.”
Blue dropped his gaze and went. One of the Dogs who seemed to proliferate this place was waiting and he led the way, Blue nearly trotting along behind him to keep up with Red sauntering along behind him, his bulk filling in any space to retreat. Blue was well accustomed to being the shortest adult person in a room, but never had he felt so small, surrounded by all these Dogs and the sheer presence of Red, of these endless hallways closing in claustrophobically around him. He kept his gaze towards the floor, following the Dog’s flowing tail more than his stride.
The room he was led to was lit with hanging purple lights and filled with short tables topped with shallow plant trays. The rich smell of soil was familiar and for the first time in some while it did nothing to settle Blue’s anxiety, actually increased it. He shivered, feeling sweat breaking out beneath his unwanted new shirt as he covered his mouth briefly with his hand as nausea threatened again.
Red didn’t seem to notice his reluctance. He looked at the room with satisfaction, taking a puff off his smoldering cigar as he said, “not bad for a starter set. got everything you asked for.” He slanted a narrow look at Blue and it was far more appraising than it had been of the planting tables. “now. show me what you got.”
“You shouldn’t smoke in here,” Blue said thinly. “It’s bad for the plants.”
“always something with you, isn’t it, honey,” Red drawled. But he exaggeratedly tamped out his cigar on the bottom of his shoe and tucked it into his jacket pocket.
Blue didn’t dare look at him again, afraid it might come off as gloating. Instead, he stepped further inside, rolling up his sleeves as he inspected the offerings. The tools were all new, stainless steel reflecting violet light, and there was a pair of flower-patterned gloves along with them. Blue slipped them on, wondering sourly if there was a joke in that choice or if it was simply the first gloves whoever purchased all this found.
Squeezing a handful of soil into a moist ball confirmed it was the correct ratio of sand, silt, and clay, with a healthy dollop of manure that he could smell. Exactly what he needed; he could urge the plants to grow but that growth still needed nutrients and sunshine, or in this case grow lights. Blue took a moment to dig an even trench from one end of the tray to the other. Then he took a shaky breath as he chose the last needed element.
The seeds were his own, retrieved from the fire safe secreted away in his room. Not that he expected anyone to break into their home in search of them, but they were invaluable, irreplaceable. He couldn’t chance them being lost.
He poured out a small handful of precious seeds and sprinkled them into the rich soil, carefully covering them.
There was only one step left. Blue held a hand over the soil and closed his eyes, calling up his magic. Urging plants to grow was like a dance and Blue was leading, pulling that growth gently in the direction it needed to go, urging and coaxing those curling green buds through the soil, guiding as they greedily sought out the light above them even as their roots soaked up the delicious nutrients beneath. All down the row the narrow green stems broadened, forking into leaves as the bud formed and swelled, that glimmer of gold bursting out into the familiar pattern of five silky petals.
Blue closed his fist and broke the connection before he pushed them too far into withering, stepping back and panting out, “There.”
The entire tray was filled to overflowing with golden flowers, the color muted beneath the grow lights. It hardly mattered, it wasn’t for their appearance that Blue grew them and as Red stepped forward to poke at one with a broad, cracked finger, his eye lights gleamed greedily.
“not bad, baby blue,” he breathed out, “you got some real talent, dontcha.”
“So I’ve been told,” Blue muttered. He stripped off the gloves and pulled out his handkerchief, dabbing away the sweat dotting his forehead. “What are you planning on doing with them?”
“am i lettin’ you in on all my secrets now, honey,” Red asked, amused. He brushed a hand over the flower heads, sending them bobbling. “can’t imagine why you haven’t been growin’ ‘em all along. hell, even a little weed woulda gotten ya more capital than your pretty posies.”
“Whether or not I wanted to, I couldn’t,” Blue said shortly. “Cannabis isn’t legal for Monsters to grow.” Not that he suspected that would even slow someone like the Fell brothers down, but Blue had his own standards of business, ones that he was currently watching burn away with depressing haste. “Besides, these aren’t a drug, the euphoria is very temporary.”
Red snorted loudly. “all euphoria’s temporary, ’s the best thing about it. see, humies got this thing ‘bout not trusting drugs. but somethin’ homegrown like this? they’ll be all over it, honey, and they’ll bring the bills to pay for it, too, you watch.”
“You really think Humans will like tea better than the flowers?” Blue said doubtfully. Even for most Monsters, Golden Flower tea was something of an acquired taste. Certainly it brought on a sort of blissful relaxation, made all the more potent by Blue’s growing technique, but it was very limited. Even at the finest quality, the faint rush hardly lasted an hour.
“i know so.” Red reached out and tapped Blue’s nasal ridge with one finger, the sharpened tip prickling faintly against the bone. “all it needs ’s a market and that’s my job, honey. all you gotta to do is grow it.”
As if it was that simple. “If I spend all my time growing golden flowers, I won’t have time for my garden.”
“don’t you go worrying about that,” Red said dismissively. He started to walk away, out of the room, as if all this were signed and settled, leaving Blue behind, to what, fill each of these trays and trust it would all work out? Not likely.
“Our deal was you help me keep my shop,” Blue raised his voice, let it echo through the room, “You promised!”
Red stopped, slowly turning back to face him and suddenly Blue wasn’t sure that was what he actually wanted. He strode back and he wasn’t that much taller than Blue, but so much broader, looming over him with invisible height as he said, evenly, “so i did.” There was a folding chair by the table and as Red sat, Blue could only blink at the abrupt reversal in size. “you think i ain’t keeping my side of the bargain, honey? wanna file a complaint?”
“No,” Blue said bluntly, ignoring the desperate flutter of his soul, “what I think is we need to renegotiate terms.”
Red looked at him with hooded sockets. “do ya now.”
“I do.” Blue folded his arms over his chest, the bright material of his shirt muted in the artificial light, shifting it to flowers of a different color. “Things seem to have changed since our first discussion. For example, what is your brother doing to mine?”
The question bothered him, Blue could see it, a banked flicker of heat in those burning eye lights. That sign was the only one, none of his irritation showed in the way he sank down in the chair, spreading his broad legs wide.
“tell ya what, baby blue. you come over here and blow me,” Red cupped a rough hand at the slight bulge of his crotch and squeezed. “and i’ll find out.”
Oh. Blue jerked his gaze away a little too late, his breath coming in panicked little blurts even as his eye lights slid betrayingly back. Not that he would even consider doing such a thing, he would never—but he hadn’t forgotten the brief satisfaction of wiping away that smirk back at the shop.
Did Red actually want…?
There was a faint gleam of sweat on the cracked dome of Red’s skull, the room was warm from the lights, true, but that didn’t explain the slight flush on his cheekbones, the rising glow coming from beneath the crude grip of his hand and those eye lights were so greedily eager, so…so…
Blue lifted his chin and said coolly, “I don’t barter with my body. If you want oral sex from me, you'll need to get it the old-fashioned way.”
There was a mere taste of gratification from the way Red blinked, startled. “how’s that?” Red asked. He sounded reluctantly intrigued.
“By going first.”
As he watched, that smirk shifted into a true grin, savagely amused. Red pounded a fist on the table and laughed. “honey, you are something.” Then he ran his tongue over his teeth, leaving them shining and wet as they tip dipped in between the jagged edges. “all right. come over and spread ‘em, and i’ll show ya what i got.”
For one moment of pure insanity, Blue was honestly tempted; it already felt like he was caught in the swirling vortex of a drain and it would be so, so much easier to simply dive it and give over to the pull. It was the memory of his brother’s face, his uncertain fear this morning that held him back and Blue clung to it, his last bastion of morality as he said, evenly, “No, I don’t think so.”
That smile fell away. “no?”
“You told me yourself you don’t like to mix business and pleasure,” Blue reminded him. “and our business isn’t yet concluded.”
“no, it ain’t, heh.” Red shook his head and stood. “get to work, i’ll stop back later, see how you’re doing. mebbe we’ll chat more about your deal, then.” Before Blue could move, his chin was pinched gently between two sharpened fingers, his face tilted up and Red’s eye lights roved over his face, studying him. It did not escape his notice that gaze lingered over his mouth. The smell of tobacco on Red’s breath was sharp, bitter as he murmured, “i’m gonna look forward to wreckin’ you, baby blue.”
Then he let go and turned away, his boots heavy on the floor as he headed towards the door. Blue waited until Red was nearly to it before he called, “We’ll have to see about that, won’t we.”
Blue only wished he were anywhere near as confident as he sounded.
His own raucous laughter followed Red out the door and when it closed, Blue sank to the floor, covering his face with his hands and wished again that he could simply grab his brother and run, get them both as far away from this place as possible.
Then he wiped his eyes impatiently and stood, reaching again for the gardening gloves. The simple option was no longer available. All he could do now was try to keep up and hope that he could get his brother out mostly unscathed.
If only he knew how scathed Papy already was. That was a question for tonight. For now, Blue had work to do and he started sowing seeds even as he struggled to ignore a different sort of growth, the aching worry take root in his very soul.
tbc
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Friday, July 31
The Sunnydale Herald is currently looking for MOAR EDITORS! Contributing to the Herald is a great way to get your Buffy on! For more information, send us an ask (on Tumblr) or post a reply to this post (on Livejournal or Dreamwidth)! You can also message Rahirah directly.
[Drabbles & Short Fiction]
Summer of Giles Haiku (Giles, G) by sparrow2000
Swimming Fishes (Angelus/Buffy, R) by Troi_ontheHellmouth. In Italian
Obstacles (Buffy/Giles, R) by froxyn
[Chaptered Fiction]
Pocket Full of Posies Part II (Buffy/Giles, R) by will_conqueror1
Sisters of Midnight Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, Faith, PG-13) by Rachel24601
Stupid Thing Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by DrusillaFaithBuffy
Before He Screwed It Up Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, R) by Hello_Spikey
Let the Wrong One In Chapter 28 (Angel/Buffy, R) by Cynder2013. Complete story
Crumbs Chapter 13 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by HollyDB
Promise Me Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by Lucky_19
The End is Near Chapter 5 (Buffy/Dean Winchester, Supernatural xover, Not Rated) by protector91
The Art of Helping Chapter 3 (Buffy, Faith, Supernatural xover, Not Rated) by Lattes_lipstick_literature
Promise Me Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by Lucky_19
Living Arrangements Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by ChryshCn
Little Harmonic Labyrinth Chapter 1 (Buffy, Star Trek: Voyager xover, PG-13) by EnergyBeing
[Images, Audio & Video]
Artwork: Manip - Daddy!Giles by gaiarheahera
Artwork: Manip - Giles/Jenny by gaiarheahera
Artwork: Manip - Giles/Cordy by gaiarheahera
Artwork: MANIP - GILES by gaiarheahera
Artwork: MANIP - GILES/BUFFY by gaiarheahera
Artwork: MANIP - GILES/ETHAN by gaiarheahera
Icons: Giles quotes by double_dutchess
[Reviews & Recaps]
PODCAST: 112 RVS: Gone S6 E11 by ReVisiting Sunnydale
[Community Announcements]
2020 August Fic-A-Day Challenge! at Twisting the Hellmouth
[Fandom Discussions]
Xander Headcanon by madimpossibledreamer
Introducing my prescient friend to Angel by Allison314
Best Buffy episodes from each season by Diccy123
Video: BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER Panel - Wizard World Virtual Experiences 2020 by Fandom Spotlite
[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]
ScreenRant: Buffy The Vampire Slayer: The Best Episodes In Every Season, According To IMDb
ComicWatch: SNEAK PEEK: Preview BOOM! STUDIO'S BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER #16
DreadCentral: This Day in Horror History: BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER Was Released in 1992
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Redamancy, Chapter 6 - Lee Jihoon
Pairing: Husband!JihoonxReader
Genre: Angst, the tiniest amount of Fluff
Chapter: one | two | three | four | five | SIX | seven | eight | nine | end | epilogue |
Word Count: 1.8 K
A/N: Again, another short chapter that I’m not really proud of (?)
Recommended Song: Linkin Park ft. Kiiara - Heavy (I’ll have a different song for the next chapter. I have one ready, I promise.)
–
You send Jihoon to the door with another lunchbox. And he bids his goodbye with a tight smile on his lips.
Last night, you barely got any sleep. One was because Jihoon suddenly moved to his original side of the bed, and two was because you couldn’t get rid of the wasps in the wake of your flashback. It had you replaying those scenes over and over again for you to finally understand that the woman you heard is you. And with the fact that Jihoon left the house at the end of the flashback, you can tell that the two of you just had a fight. A major one, that is, seeing that you’re never the one to resort to aggressive behavior.
You pace around the living room with your nails on your mouth again. You want to go to the Haven in the hope of getting another flashback, but you are afraid that if you do, it would be as intense as it was yesterday. And you doubt you’re ready for it. Your eyes flicker around the room aimlessly until you catch sight of something familiar from the corner of your vision. You turn around and gasp.
Lily of the valley.
The flower you hold in your wedding picture. Your wedding bouquet, it’s white lily of the valley.
You run upstairs and slam the door of the Haven open, rushing to the place where the pot struck the wall. You plop down in front of it, mind going to hundreds of different locations at the same time.
Why have I done that?
The fury, despair, and grief that were mirrored through yesterday’s flashback, you don’t fully understand them. You want to understand.
Why, why, why, why?
“I love you.” You hear Jihoon starts, and your breath hitches.
“I’m sorry that I’m being selfish, but… I want you to wait for me. I- I hope you’ll wait for me. Here”—he extends his hand, offering you a posy of flowers—“you know, it’s hard to choose a flower for someone who knows flowers.” There’s a sound of laughter that reminds you so much like a tinkling bell, a sound of which allows you to see the warm color spreading on Jihoon’s cheek, mimicking the sun who’s ready to set behind him. “So, um, I googled it. You know, hanakotoba, the language of flowers. I, um, there are a few versions, but… you know… just, here”—he clears his throat as he grabs your hand and shoves the flowers to you—“promise me you’ll wait for me, and this is my promise to you.”
The vibration of your phone in your pocket pulls you out of your head.
It’s Soonyoung.
“Hey, why do I still see that prick over here? I gave him a piece of my mind yesterday, and it offends me that he didn’t listen.”
You blink your eyes a few times before answering, “Huh? What is it, Soonie?”
Soonyoung’s heart skips a beat when you called him with that nickname. It did the same that night he and the other members visited you in the hospital. He hadn’t worried about anything else besides your wellbeing. He and Seungkwan have been your best friend since forever. He was nervous, but he knew you’d remember him. Yet when you actually called him Soonie instead of Soonyoung or Hoshi, relief washed over every inch of his body, and he swore that was one of his happiest moments in life.
“Um, I’m sorry. It’s just, Jihoon’s at work again. I told him yesterday not to go. At least, not yet, not until you’re better. How- how are you? I should’ve asked you that first, but—“
“Soonie, it’s okay. I’m okay, and you can’t chain Jihoon away from his job. None of us can, not you, not me. Or at least, not forever. He’ll get back to producing eventually, and I don’t mind. Really.”
Both of you are silent, your thought traveling back to the dusk on Jihoon’s face, and an idea pops up in your head. “Hey, are you free?”
“Why do you want to go to Han—hey, at least wear a hat, will you?” Soonyoung groans as he sees you exiting your house without any disguising elements on your head. “I don’t know about you, but I’m still famous, you see.”
You laugh at that, this boy, you think. Soonyoung himself wears a beanie and a mask that is lowered to his chin as he speaks. He stands from his previous position leaning on his car to open the passenger door for you.
“So, my question, why suddenly the Han River?” he continues once he hits the road.
“I… I had a flashback.”
“A flashback?”—his lower lip protrudes slightly, forming a little pout, a sign that he’s currently thinking—“Oh! You do?! What is it?”
You nod. “I’m not sure. I was hoping that maybe I’ll get some more if I visit the place.”
Soonyoung feels the atmosphere getting heavier by the second that follows. So he quips, “Why me, huh? Usually, you’ll go to Seungkwan first.” He looks at you teasingly, but frankly, he’s curious and nervous for your answer.
“You called me right after the flashback.”
“Oh, I did?”—his voice turns glum—“You’re saying that it’s by chance? And that it’s gonna be Seungkwan if I hadn’t called?” You whip your head at his morose inquiries. You were about to say something when he beats you to it. “I’m only ever your alternative, huh?”
“Soonyoung, I…” you trail off your words as you try to swallow the lump that’s starting to form in your throat.
“Shit! I’m sorry, Y/n. I don’t mean to—“ Soonyoung blurts out his apology when he sees that your eyes have become watery through the rear-view mirror. But you immediately cut him.
“No. No. I’m sorry. I- I don’t know that you feel that way.”
The silence between you is heavy even after both of you exit the car and walk together on one side of Han River. Soonyoung is busy lecturing himself for his outburst in his head when you stop on your track and raise your hand to point at something. “Is that familiar to you?”
Soonyoung looks up to see that you’re pointing at a big tree planted in a ground rather higher than its surrounding. He shakes his head. “No, just some normal tree for me. But if for you it is, we can walk there.”
“Hey, um, I’m sorry for earlier. I really didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m just… You know what I’m like,” Soonyoung says once you arrive in front of the big tree.
You turn to him and smile. “It’s okay, Soonie.”
“Did any of them talk to you?” he says after a few more minutes of silence, a comfortable one this time.
“Hm?” You look at him, making sure that you’re thinking of the same group of people as he is. “All of them did actually.”
“Good.”
You spend some time with Soonyoung, leaning on the tree and talking about the good old days. You clap your hand together and rise from your position, ready to go home. As it turns out, getting a flashback is not as easy as you wish it to be.
The sun is still high in the horizon when you leave, walking away with the heart of an ember that still burns for the same person.
Lily of the valley, you whisper to that heart.
Lily of the valley: sweetness or the promise of happiness.
The night is young when Jihoon arrives home. He wears an expression that’s quite far from amicable, lines etched on his forehead.
“Hey, you’re home!” you gush, standing from your spot on the couch in an instant that you hear the sound of the door.
He doesn’t say anything back. Nor does he respond to anything you say to him all that night.
To say that he is pissed is somewhat an overstatement. He is not angry, just slightly annoyed—yeah, but greatly hurt.
On his way out he was stopped by Soonyoung. The man skidded to a halt in front of Jihoon, chest heaving and shirt drenched with sweat. It seemed that Soonyoung paused his dance practice abruptly to run for him.
“Hey, I was out with Y/n to Han River today, I thought I’ll let you know. She said she had a flashback or something and asked me to take her there.”
Soonyoung was busy controlling his breathing to realize how his words were affecting the younger man. Jihoon’s body stiffened, and his eyes darkened. There’s a fire of anger burning in his chest, but it’s quickly washed away by the wave of hurt that followed. Why hadn’t you called him instead? Even if you couldn’t talk to him, why not tell his other members? Seungkwan, for instance. He’s like your best man, your best person, best whatever. Why Soonyoung?
He could barely keep himself from driving over the speed limit. His head was filled with tons of questions he was ready to ask you as he burst through the door. But then he saw your face beaming. And he couldn’t help the second wave of hurt that washed over him. He couldn’t help but wonder what you’re so happy about and question if it’s because of your little afternoon rendezvous with Soonyoung.
You were persistent, trying to make a conversation with him while forgetting to mention the fact that you’ve been away all afternoon when he’s not home. But he’s drowning in his questions. Why didn’t you say anything about the flashback, if not about Soonyoung? He’s supposed to know when you have any progress with your memory, right? He’s your husband. And he didn’t even ask or need to be the first to know, just that you’re the one to tell him.
You tried to bring up the Han River and the memory you’ve acquired, but alas, your poor heart’s easy to discourage. As Jihoon walks to your room, you rush inside to claim his side of the bed before he can, so you can sleep while facing him. He stops in the doorway to see what you’re doing and proceeds to occupy the remaining space on the bed, too tired mentally to argue or clean himself up first. He faces the dim lamp on your bedside table, eyes wide awake from it and some other reasons.
He gives you his back. You call him, but he doesn’t turn around. You know that he’s still awake. So you wait, teeth biting down your lower lip, willing yourself not to make a sound as you silently cry. When you’re sure that he’s asleep, you pull the cover away from you and walk out the room to the Haven. You plop yourself down at the hammock outside, ignoring the cold wind that stings your eyes.
You stare at the spot on the wall where the pot broke, and look down to the diamond circling your ring finger.
Lily of the valley, you repeat bitterly.
The promise of happiness.
--
Another A/N: HAPPY PRINCE HOSHI DAY!!!!!! I feel like it’s only fitting to upload this chapter on his birthday. Anyway, I hope you’ve enjoyed this. I’ve been progressing through chapter seven very slowly, but I’ll get there. Thank you so much for reading!
#seventeen#lee jihoon#jihoon#woozi#seventeen angst#seventeen fluff#lee jihoon angst#lee jihoon fluff#woozi angst#woozi fluff#jihoon angst#jihoon fluff#kwon soonyoung#soonyoung#hoshi#hoshi angst#soonyoung angst#kwon soonyoung angst#soonyoung scenario#jihoon scenario#jihoon imagine#seventeen imagine#seventeen scenario
65 notes
·
View notes
Link
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yagi Toshinori | All Might/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic
Characters: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic
Additional Tags: Angst, End of the World, Machines, AEM Week 2019
Series: Part 4 of AllEraserMic Week 2019
Summary:
"Ring-a-round the roses,
A pocket full of posies,
Hush! Hush! Hush! Hush!
We've all tumbled down"
For AEM Week 2019!!
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 8 is up, in which past!Weaver and Lacey get married
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7]
AO3 link
Three years and eight months earlier
Thursday was cold and bright, the ever-present rain banished and replaced by a startlingly clear blue sky, frost riming the iron railings by Weaver’s apartment. Roni had offered to let Lacey stay with her the night before the wedding, and she had shrugged and accepted, although she added that she didn’t believe in superstition, and she didn’t suppose that seeing each other before they did the deed would make any difference in the long run. Weaver himself had spent the evening alone, having picked up the key to the Nolans’ cabin and gotten Lacey’s agreement to go there. Merida and Fa had gotten them presents, which sat unopened on the kitchen counter, awaiting their return from their brief honeymoon. He had packed food for the three days they planned to stay, picking up a bottle of champagne in the store before remembering that Lacey was pregnant, and pushing it back onto the shelf.
He hadn’t quite had time to get used to the fact that there was a baby on the way, and he thought perhaps that his subconscious was trying to pretend there wasn’t. Not that he wasn’t happy at the idea, but he had seen too much of the darker side of humanity not to be worried about what any child of his might grow up to experience. He told himself that he’d have to do the best he could to protect them, and pushed the worries from his mind, concentrating on the first step of his new life.
In the end he had taken Lacey’s suggestion regarding his wedding outfit, and was wearing jeans, although they were new and black and fitted him well. He wore them with a blue shirt and dark jacket, his heavy boots polished to a shine and his rings cleaned. Pushing each one onto its finger in turn, he eyed the space on his left hand, where a new piece of jewellery would soon sit. He had taken Lacey to choose the wedding rings the day before, matching bands in white gold with Celtic knotwork running around them. She had refused his offer of an engagement ring, saying bluntly that it was stupid to spend money on something just to conform to other people’s expectations, but she seemed to like the wedding ring. So there was that.
He checked his reflection in the mirror, running a hand over his freshly-shaven chin and sighing to himself. Not exactly the stuff of bloody dreams, but he’d have to do. A knock on the bedroom door made him look around, and it creaked open to reveal Merida’s red curls.
“You ready?” she asked. “We should probably get going.”
The ceremony was being held in the waterfront garden of a hotel owned by a friend of Roni’s. The hotel itself was undergoing renovation, and what would have been a pleasant silence was punctuated by the banging of hammers and the whistling of workmen as they replaced the main staircase inside. Weaver thought the garden was pretty, a well-kept lawn bisected by a path leading to a wrought-iron pergola, thick with climbing plants. The plants were white with frost, and he was privately concerned that he and Lacey might freeze to death before they could say their vows, but he kept his mouth shut. It was only fifteen minutes, after all.
He waited with Fa and Merida, shifting from foot to foot in the cold air, and glanced around as Lacey came out with Roni at her side. She had bought a new dress with the money he had given her, a simple, pretty thing in pale blue with a full skirt, a white faux fur shawl keeping the cold from her shoulders and a posy of white roses in her hands. Her legs were in white stockings, her shoes the same pale blue as the dress, with a strap at the ankle. His eyes widened at the sight of her, hair teased into curls and tied up, a few snaking loose to curl around her smooth cheeks and the nape of her neck, her lips deep pink. She ran her eyes over him as she got nearer, and one side of her mouth drew up.
“You look good, Detective,” she said.
“You look beautiful,” he said honestly, and her smile grew.
“Okay lovebirds, let’s get you idiots married,” said Merida loudly.
x
It was over so quickly it almost made his head spin. He stumbled a little over the vows, but he meant every word, and Lacey shot him a brief smile before she said her own, although she stuttered over the ‘love’ part. The ring was cold and unfamiliar on his finger, and he unconsciously rubbed at it with his thumb as Roni spoke the closing words and told him to kiss his bride. Lacey’s lips were soft and cool, and he touched his forehead to hers in a brief gesture of affection as he heard the clicking sounds of Fa and Merida taking pictures. And then it was done. He was a married man.
They went back to Roni’s for drinks, but he stuck with coffee while the others downed whisky. Lacey had hot chocolate, a swirl of cream with a sprinkling of cinnamon on top, and when she had almost finished, Weaver went to find Roni, handing her a sheaf of bills.
“Drinks are on me until that runs out,” he said. “I think we’ll get away.”
���Well, I hope you have a good time,” she said, as she took the money. “I’m sure you will. I think you two will be okay.”
“Yeah,” he said, glancing across to where Lacey was staring into her empty cup. “I hope so. I’ll try to make her happy.”
“I can draw you a useful diagram, if it would help,” she said, tucking the cash into her pocket and winking at him, and he sent her a look.
“Thank you, but I think I can remember the basics.”
“Well, I guess that’s a start,” she observed. “Don’t forget to be happy yourself, while you’re at it.”
He grinned, glancing towards the bar, where Merida was talking animatedly to Fa with extravagant hand gestures.
“Do me a favour,” he said, jerking his head at them. “Try to get one of those two to ask the other out, they’re driving me up the bloody wall.”
“Since I’m playing Cupid today I’ll give it my best shot, but I warn you that of all the useless lesbians I’ve met, these two are by far the worst,” she said dryly. “Now go bang your new wife.”
Weaver gave her a flat look, walking over to where Lacey was staring into space. She glanced across at him.
“Are you wanting to head off?” she asked.
“We can stay longer, if you like.”
She shook her head.
“I’m good. How long’s the drive?”
“An hour or so, depending on the traffic,” he said.
“No point in hanging around, then.”
She pushed to her feet, grasping his hand and calling goodbye to the others before tugging him towards the doorway. Whoops from Merida followed them out, which made Lacey grin a little, but once outside she shivered in the cold air, and he quickly shrugged off his jacket, putting it around her shoulders.
“Car’s just around the corner,” he said, and she tucked her arm through his as they walked swiftly.
It was a relief to get out of the bitter wind, and there was silence for awhile as Weaver drove out of the city. Lacey fiddled with the radio, eventually finding some music she liked, and settled back as the car turned onto a quieter road, tall pines flanking the edges and faint remnants of snow still visible in amongst the trees. Lacey shifted in her seat, glancing across at him.
“So,” she said. “That was pretty painless, right?”
“Were you expecting ordeal by fire, or something?” he remarked, and she chuckled.
“I just meant it was - quick,” she said. “No fuss, no expense, and we’re no less married than the people paying forty thousand bucks so their guests can have personalised party favours, or whatever.”
He grinned at that.
“I don’t think we’re personalised party favour kind of people.”
“Got that right.”
There was silence for a moment, and she looked out of the window, late afternoon sunlight sending flickering rays through the dark trunks of trees.
“You’ve been to this place before, right?” she said.
“Many times,” he confirmed. “If Nolan and I had free time in the summer, we’d come up here, bring some meat to barbecue and drink beer by the lake. Snow always brought whatever she’d been baking that week, and we’d get a little drunk and listen to music and talk about all sorts of crap. It’s a nice little place. Few other cabins nearby, but enough space that you feel as though you’re on your own.”
“I’m guessing it’s probably deserted at this time of year anyway.”
“Probably,” he acknowledged, and glanced across at her. “You don’t mind, do you? I could have driven us down to California, or something.”
“I don’t mind,” she said, after a pause. “A week ago I was bunked down on a packing crate, so it’s really no big deal. I wasn’t expecting a honeymoon. I wasn’t expecting a wedding, let’s face it.”
“What were you expecting?” he asked curiously, glancing across at her, and she shrugged, mouth pursing a little.
“Don’t know,” she admitted. “I - I didn’t really think things through. I just knew I had to come back.”
“Well, I’m glad you did,” he said, and turned the wheel into a long, winding bend as the car made its way up a hill. “It’s not too much further.”
He wanted to ask her about their time apart, why she had left in the middle of the night and not contacted him until four months later. He wanted to ask about the night their child was conceived, whether she had regretted what they had done. Whether she had hated him for it. He couldn’t find the words, though, and it didn’t seem the time, so he kept silent, his eyes on the road, and before too long he was turning off onto a narrow track covered in pine needles. The track wound downhill amongst dark stands of pine trees, and turned out onto a flat, wide area where log cabins nestled in amongst the trees, the lake beyond catching the last rays of the sun in flickers of orange.
Weaver pulled up outside the Nolans’ place, turning off the engine. Lacey had been correct; the other cabins seemed deserted, and she was out of the car before he, nose raised to sniff the pine-scented air. He took the overnight bag from the trunk, handing over hers and picking up a cardboard box of food before nudging the trunk shut. Lacey took the key from him, the heels of her shoes sinking into the mulch as she headed for the steps to the porch. It had started to snow, large flakes drifting slowly to the ground around them, and she shivered as she looked around.
“Bloody freezing,” she said, and unlocked the door.
“Give me a few minutes and I can light a fire,” he said.
The cabin was cold, but at least they were out of the bitter wind. He set the box of food on a small table, then went to the hearth, looking around for kindling.
Lacey left him to it, carrying the box of food he had brought into the small kitchen area. It had a fridge (empty), hotplate and microwave, and cupboards filled with canned goods, dried rice and pasta, and boxes of cereal. There were plates and cups, glasses and cutlery, and she spent a couple of minutes poking around before putting anything perishable into the fridge and heading out of the lounge area into a small, dark corridor. Flicking on the lights, she found four doors, the first leading outside to the back porch. Closing it with a shiver, she tried the next, which revealed a bathroom, complete with tub and shower. Next to it was a bedroom with a wood-burning stove and a king bed covered in a pale blue woollen throw embroidered at the edges with tiny silk flowers. She dropped her bag onto it, peeking at the room next door and finding another, smaller bedroom.
From the sound of it, Weaver was still making the fire, so she tugged his jacket around herself and tried the back door again. The porch was sheltered, two benches set each side of a small table with a view out over the lake,and she stood there for awhile, letting the cold air sink into her and watching her breath huff out in clouds of white as she scanned the quiet landscape. She imagined that in the summer it must be nice to sit there and watch the sunset through the trees as the heat of the day faded and the chirps of birds were replaced by the buzz and whine of insects and the croaking of frogs. Now the woods were cold and silent, the snow soft as feathers against her cheeks as it fell, ice forming in pale fronds at the edges of the lake, where patches of old snow still clung.
“You’ll catch your death out here.”
Weaver’s voice behind her made her jump, and his hands steadied her, warm on her waist.
“It’s kind of pretty,” she said. “In a desolate sort of way. Like it’s all sleeping. It’s colder up here than in the city, huh?”
“Winter was longer than usual this year,” he remarked. “And it clings on in the mountains. I could make you hot cocoa, if you like.”
“You got a shot of bourbon to go in that?”
She sent him a smile over her shoulder, to show she was joking, and he grinned.
“No can do,” he said. “But I don’t mind joining you in sobriety for the next five months, if it would help.”
“Misery loves company?” she teased.
“Marriage is a partnership.”
“I’ll remind you of that when it’s four a.m. and the baby’s crying.”
“Feel free.”
She felt a rush of affection for him, and turned in his arms to twine hers around his neck, his jacket falling from her shoulders. He was still smiling, and his head wobbled a little, as though he was extremely satisfied with something. His body was very warm, and she inched closer, until she was pressed up against him.
“So,” she said. “Married. On honeymoon. Can mean only one thing.”
She grinned wickedly, and his smile grew, his eyes glinting.
“I did say you didn’t have to share a bed with me if you didn’t want to.”
Lacey gave him a flat look.
“You think I bought new underwear for no reason?” she asked. “If I can’t have a drink to celebrate getting hitched, I’m at least expecting an orgasm or two.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good.”
“You have to tell me if you don’t like something, though,” he added. "In fact, tell me if you do like something, too."
“Oh, I will.” She raised her chin. “You can kiss me if you like.”
Weaver’s smile broadened, and he bent his head, his mouth finding hers. It was harder than the kiss he had given her to seal their vows, and she was snatched back to the night they had last shared, to the night when he had laid her down and kissed her like it was his last night on earth. To the night when he had made her see stars. It made her breath catch as he drew back, and she licked her lips, catching the faint taste of him.
“Take me to bed,” she whispered.
If he remembered that she had said the same thing to him four months ago, he didn’t react beyond a faint smile and a nod. He took a step back, holding the door open to let her inside, and closed and locked it behind them. Lacey made her way through to the bedroom, noting that he had lit a fire in the wood-burning stove, flames crackling around the split logs in there. He had turned on the two bedside lamps that sat on the matching nightstands, and a warm glow was filling the room as the heat from the fire began to build. She went to rummage in her bag, taking out a hairbrush and crossing to the little dresser, where she proceeded to take the pins from her hair where Roni had teased her curls into a loose bun.
Weaver closed the door behind him with a faint click, waiting as she brushed out her hair until it shone, reddish highlights gleaming in the lamplight After a moment of standing there, unsure of what to do, he bent to unlace his boots, tugging them off with his socks and setting them next to the door. The wooden floor was cold beneath his bare toes, but the room was starting to warm, and Lacey let the faux fur shawl slip from her shoulders, draping it over the back of the single chair that sat before the dresser. He watched his wife in the mirror as she removed her earrings, and she turned her head a little, sweeping her hair to one side as she glanced over her shoulder at him. My wife. She’s my wife. How the fuck did that happen?
“Unzip me?”
Weaver stepped closer, reaching up to touch her, fingertips brushing the nape of her neck and making her shiver. He drew the zipper down, the sound seeming loud in the silence of the room, and she met his eyes in the mirror as he pushed the dress from her shoulders, gently drawing the cap sleeves down her arms. He pushed the dress over her hips until it pooled on the floor at her feet as she stepped out of it, and let out a tiny growl as her body was revealed to him, pale curves hugged by powder-blue lace, the darker peaks of her nipples showing through. Her legs were perfection, stockings topped with white lace clinging to them, and he watched as she flicked open the buckles to her heeled shoes and kicked them off before straightening up, the light gleaming on her pale skin.
Lacey sucked in a breath as he cupped her gently, and he bent his head to kiss her shoulder, one warm hand sliding down to where her belly curved outwards a little. She could feel the slight roughness on his chin where fresh stubble was starting to grow, a contrast to the softness of his lips. Cold air kissed her skin, raising goosebumps on her arms, and she rubbed her head against his, closing her eyes as she felt his hands slide back up to her shoulders, teasing the thin straps of her bra.
“Take it off,” she said softly.
He kissed her again, hands dropping to the catch at the back, and she waited patiently as he fumbled with it.
“Fucking thing,” he muttered, and Lacey grinned.
“You want me to do it?”
“No, it’s fine, I — bloody hell, woman, does this thing have a combination lock?”
Lacey rolled her eyes, reaching behind to unhook the bra and let it fall, and Weaver grunted.
“Well, I guess you’re used to it.”
“Practice makes perfect,” she said with a grin, turning to face him, and her grin widened as he ran his eyes over her. “Come on, Detective, warm me up, would you?”
He reached up to cup her face, fingers sliding into her hair, and Lacey moaned as their mouths met, his lips warm and soft. She went to work on the buttons of his shirt, plucking them open and sliding her hands inside over his naked chest. He was smooth and firm, just as she remembered, and she tugged him a little closer, Weaver groaning into her mouth as the kiss deepened. He let his hands drop, shrugging out of the shirt and letting it fall, and broke the kiss, his breath coming hard and his chest heaving as he pressed his brow to hers. His hands ran down her back and over her buttocks, tugging her against him so that his belt buckle dug into her belly, and he pulled his mouth from hers to kiss down her neck, sending a shudder of pleasure through her.
He bent to scoop her up in his arms, tossing her onto the bed, and Lacey pushed up on her elbows, watching as he unbuckled his belt and flicked open the buttons of his jeans. He let them fall, and she licked her lips, running her eyes over the lean lines of his arms and chest and the slight softness of his belly, watching the silver chain around his neck glinting in the light. His nipples were hard, dark peaks, and she wanted to run her tongue over them, to taste his skin and breathe him in as he pushed inside her. He crawled onto the bed, and his eyes were dark and deep, searching out hers as he reached for her, his fingers sliding over one cheek and into her hair.
Lacey moaned into his mouth as he laid her down and kissed her hard, his tongue pushing in between her lips, stabbing and stroking, his hands caressing her face, the chain he wore cold against the base of her throat. She let her fingers slide up his back, stroking over hot skin, need for him burning through her, and he shifted his body to the side, one hand sliding down to cup her breast. She groaned and arched upwards, pushing against his palm, and he kissed down her throat, tongue stroking over her skin as his mouth sought her nipple. Lacey gasped as he sucked at her, letting her head roll back against the pillows, and she opened her legs a little, eager for his touch.
Weaver swirled his tongue over her nipple, tasting a faint hint of roses on her skin from the lotion she used. She was breathing hard, her chest heaving, and he kissed lower, lips brushing over the slight curve of her belly where his child was growing. He pressed tender kisses to her, shivering as he felt her fingers stroke through his hair, and slid his hands up her hips to grasp the thin waistband of her lace thong. Lacey lifted her hips a little, allowing him to draw it down, and he let out a low growl as she was revealed to him, the soft cleft between her legs glistening with fluid.
He slipped the thong down her legs and off at her feet, pushing his boxers down over his hips and tossing them aside before kneeling between her legs and sliding his hands up her inner thighs. The lace of her stocking-tops scraped against his palms, and he pushed her thighs apart, bending to run his tongue along the crease at the top of her thigh. Lacey let out a gasp, fingers tightening in his hair, and he nuzzled her with his nose, breathing in the scent of her arousal. His tongue flickered out to catch a taste of her, stroking up between her legs, and she let out a cry, arching her back.
He let out a low groan of pleasure at the taste of her, salt and musk on his lips, and swept his tongue over her flesh, sliding in between her soft folds, the tip just brushing the hard pearl of her clit. Lacey moaned, nails scraping his scalp, and he let his tongue swirl in circles, stroking against her, feeling her move beneath him as he found his rhythm. His hand slid up her inner thigh, one finger slipping through wet flesh to tease her, pushing inside her, and Lacey bent one knee, sliding her foot across his shoulders, letting his mouth reach more of her. He groaned and buried his face in her, finger pushing deep into her soft, wet heat as his tongue swirled and stroked, and he could hear her panting, could feel her tensing beneath him. He licked her, the flat of his tongue scraping her over and over, and Lacey jerked against him with a cry as she came, hot fluid bathing his tongue as he drew out the finger and sucked her pleasure from it. He pushed his tongue inside her, groaning as he licked up every drop, and Lacey stroked his hair with shaking hands, gasping for breath.
Encouraged by her response, he smiled against her skin, pressing kisses to her, lips trailing across to her hip before making his way back up her body. He was almost painfully hard, his balls full and aching, and the urge to get inside her was overwhelming. She was watching him through heavy-lidded eyes, perfect breasts rising and falling with her breath, and his mouth fastened over her nipple as she moaned in pleasure. He sucked at her, tongue circling as his lips tugged at her skin, and he let the nipple slip from his mouth, glistening with saliva as he kissed his way upwards to nip at her earlobe.
Lacey closed her eyes, skin still tingling from her climax, enjoying the feel of his touch and the scent of him drifting into her nose. Their first time had been half-drunk and frenzied, messy and desperate and wonderful, and she was looking forward to taking some time with him, to exploring and reconnecting and learning with him. Weaver shifted, moving to the side of her and sliding one hand down over her belly to slip into the slippery heat between her legs. Lacey moaned, head pushing back against the pillows as he slipped a finger inside her. He pushed in another, sinking up to the knuckles, thumb flickering over her clit, and she let out a cry, pushing against him.
“That’s good!” she whispered. “Oh God, give me more! Make it harder!”
He pushed another finger into her, stretching her, sliding deep, and she moaned at the feel of it, remembering how it felt to have him inside her. The fingers began to thrust in and out, his thumb circling her clit, and she could feel the throb of her pulse as her arousal grew, sensations rising up within her. His tongue teased her ear, his breath hot, sending shivers through her as he pushed and thrust.
“You feel fucking incredible, Lacey!” he whispered. “Let me feel you come! I want it running down my fingers!”
She moaned, pushing against his hand, and he quickened his pace a little, fingers sliding in and out of her, his thumb sending jolts of sensation through her with every pass over her clit. She matched his pace, hips bucking as she rode his hand, her moans increasing in pitch as she felt a wave of pleasure rise up, and she broke with a loud cry, bliss washing over her. He buried his face in her neck with a low groan, lips sucking at her skin as his movements slowed, and then pushed up on one elbow, gently drawing out his fingers with a wet, sucking sound.
Lacey tried to catch her breath as she watched him slip the fingers into his mouth and suck her juices from them, his eyes meeting hers. She licked her lips, glancing down to where he was pressed against her hip in a rigid line, and reached up to touch his face, fingers raking through his hair.
“I want you,” she whispered.
He sent her a brief smile, and shifted position again, one knee lifting over hers until he was lying between her legs. She let her hands run over him, fingers catching in the chain around his neck and trailing over his chest, and his jaw tightened as she brushed his nipples. Weaver kissed along her jaw, mouth finding hers as one hand cradled her head. His skin was damp and sticky with her fluids, his stubble scraping her chin as his lips pushed hers apart, and she let her tongue stroke his, feeling him hard against her thigh. Her heart was thumping, and she shifted her hips a little, trying to capture the head of his cock. He took his weight on one arm and reached between them, hand sliding down between her legs to grasp himself, and she let out a sound of approval as he pushed up against her.
Weaver was lost in the feel of her, the heat of her skin and the sheen of sweat forming between them, the firm roundness of her breasts pressing against his chest. He was pushing against the soft, wet heat between her legs, and Lacey let out a tiny sound of pleasure as he eased inside her, the sensation making him grit his teeth. He let out a long, low groan as he sank into her, flesh like silk against him, and she lifted a knee, letting him push deeper.
“Fuck!” he gasped, and she let out a throaty giggle, eyes sparkling as they met his.
He slipped a hand behind her knee, tugging it higher, thrusting into her as deep as he could go, his balls rubbing against her as he pushed inside, and Lacey wrapped her legs around him, tilting her head until her mouth caught his. A low, bass hum rumbled out of him at the taste of her, and he moved his hips in a slow circle, rubbing against her, sliding in and out. Lacey pulled her mouth free, head rolling back as she moaned.
“Fuck, that’s good!” she breathed. “Harder! Fuck me harder!”
He almost lost his mind, and bit down hard on the inside of his cheeks to try to keep it together. Lacey was arching upwards, thighs gripping him tight and the lace of her stockings scratching pleasantly, and he ran his hands up her arms, grasping her wrists and pushing them into the pillows as he thrust into her. She moaned, writhing, and he ran his tongue up the length of her throat to taste the salt of her sweat. Her moans were growing louder, and he could feel himself nearing his peak, pleasure stealing through him and making his skin tingle. He bit down into her neck, swiping his tongue over the bite and kissing up to her ear.
“Fuck, you feel amazing!” he whispered. “Gotta come, Lacey! Gotta come inside you!”
Lacey could feel him deep within her, thick and rigid, rubbing against her as he thrust, and she held her breath, moving her hips against him, increasing the friction, willing him to come. She was close, she knew it, and she pushed up against him, squeezing him tight as his body trembled on the edge, the muscles of his arms and chest taut and straining. She felt him come, a loud groan bursting from him as his cock pulsed and heat seemed to flood into her, and she cried out as she followed him, pumping her hips, pulling every drop from him. His hands were tight on her wrists, his thrusts fast and shallow, and she let a wave of pleasure drench her, electricity coursing over her skin. He finally slowed and stopped, letting out a deep, shuddering gasp, and released her wrists, letting his head drop.
For a moment there was silence except for their panting, ragged breathing. The room seemed very warm, the heat between them making Lacey feel lazy and contented, and she smiled, reaching up to stroke her fingers through his damp hair as they tried to catch their breath.
“Well,” she murmured. “Married life’s okay so far, I guess.”
He raised his head at that, a lazy grin pulling his mouth up at one corner, and pushed himself up on his elbows a little more so that he could look down at her. She could still feel him inside her, but he was shrinking, and she unwound her legs from around his back, letting him slip from her. He was staring at her with a softness in his expression, a deep affection that inexplicably made her want to push him away, to run and not look back. She licked dry lips, heart thumping, and told herself to calm the fuck down.
Weaver couldn’t remember ever feeling as contented as he did right then. Their bodies were hot and sticky, slippery with sweat and their own fluids. Lacey’s dark curls were spread out on the pillow, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen from their kisses, and he thought she was the beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. His entire body was still humming from his orgasm, his limbs heavy and loose, and he reached up to stroke a stray curl from her cheek, leaning in to press his brow to hers. Affection burst up out of him, and he nuzzled her nose with his own.
“Oh, Lacey!” he whispered. “I’m glad you came back. I missed you.”
Lacey seemed to freeze momentarily, and then she pushed at him, turning her head away from his, her mouth twisting.
“Don’t - make it weird,” she muttered.
Blinking in confusion, he rolled to the side and let her slip from the bed, watching as she snatched up his shirt and tugged it on before ducking out of the bedroom. The bathroom door closed with a click of the lock, and he sat there for a moment, trying to work out what he’d done to make her bolt and coming up with very little that made any sense. Shaking his head, he got up, snatching up his boxers and pulling them on, along with his jeans. He really wanted a drink, but he’d promised to lay off the booze with her, and so he figured he’d make that hot cocoa after all. Perhaps it would stop him over-analysing everything.
She was still in the bathroom when he went out, the relative chill of the corridor making him shiver. The lounge was warmer, the fire having settled down into a pleasant blaze, and he put another couple of logs on it to keep it going, poking them into place and making sparks jump and dance. He could hear water running in the bathroom, and after a moment Lacey came through, rubbing lotion into her hands and not quite meeting his eyes.
“You okay?” he asked carefully, and she nodded, shifting from foot to foot.
She seemed to be having some sort of internal conversation with herself, and he waited for her to say what was on her mind. A piece of wood snapped in the fire, and Lacey finally turned on her toes to face him.
“Okay, here’s the thing,” she said. “I - uh - I have a request. It’s - it’s a little thing, but I think I need to tell you about it, okay?”
“Go on,” he said, and she took a deep breath.
“I know you care about me,” she said. “I know this wasn’t what you planned, what you wanted, but I know you care about me. I care about you too, I do. We were friends before anything else. We’re still friends, and - and we’ll be more than that, I know it.”
He gave her a tiny smile.
“Yeah, I do care about you,” he agreed. “And no, maybe this wasn’t what either of us planned when we first met, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make it work, okay? I want to make it work. For both of us. For the baby.”
Lacey smiled a little, and there was a tenderness in her eyes he was not used to seeing. She took a step closer.
“You’re a good man,” she said softly. “And I’m happy to be married to you, Rafe, I am. I’m gonna try to be a good wife, and a good mother, and I want to make you happy, too. I want to make you coffee in the mornings and share your bed and fall asleep beside you after a night of awesome sex, I swear it.”
He sensed that she hadn’t finished, that there was something else she wanted to say. Something she was steeling herself for. He was racking his brains to think what it might be, and she took a deep breath, raising her chin.
“Just - please,” she said. “Please. Don’t ever tell me you love me.”
He could feel his mouth fall open. Whatever he had been expecting her to say, that wasn’t it.
“Okay,” he said, bewildered. “Uh - why not?”
“Does it matter?” she asked. “It’s just words, right?”
He opened and closed his mouth, but didn’t respond, and she nodded.
“Good,” she said, and stepped forward, stretching up on her toes to kiss him before dropping back on her heels with a grin on her face. “You wanna have sex again?”
He stared at her, and shook his head numbly.
“I - uh - think I’ll make that cocoa.”
“Okay, cool.” She ran her hands over his chest, still smiling. “Come back to bed when it’s ready, I’m not done with you yet.”
She winked at him, and took a step back, turning to head for the bedroom, hips swaying as she walked. He watched her go, his heart thumping hard in his chest, and realised that he barely understood a single thing about her.
#fic: things left unsaid#woven lace fic#rumbelle fic#my fic#woven lace#rumbelle#woven lace smut#rather large estate
37 notes
·
View notes
Photo
WHEN THE SKIES
ehgejg godbless mama mv
Pocket full of Posies - lucky one/monster inspo!! exo are test subjects escaping from the facility they’re kept in and they know that subject #88 is the most dangerous one among them. (written by amazing convexxed, sadly it’s drafted now because she’s on hiatus ;; we can only hope she’ll come back soon)
Real Human - written by our Admin R ♥ scientist/lab engineer!jongin, super-human!kyungsoo. Jongin modifies subject #12 in his lab and he can’t help but gets quickly attracted to his creation’s charm ;~;
Hearts Don’t Only Beat - by sunnycup soo it’s sO GREAT k like jongin teleports into a stranger’s house in need of a decent suit for his job interview but turns out the house owner is none other than his employer who has superpowers too
Summer Rain - mama au + royalty!au + celebrity au. kyungsoo is a prince with superpowers and he somehow escapes to the human world where jongin, a celebrity in hiding from thirsty paparazzis, finds him and saves him (my favefavefaveee)
Kiss of Bliss - war au, Jongin was one of the soldiers who were chosen to fight for their kind due to his unique ability of teleportation and kyungsoo with a heavy heart waits for him to come back home
(Hush,) Don’t Speak - Kyungsoo has lived alone for ten years on the run and avoiding people, all because he awakened his power and nowhere is safe for people like him
Celestial Silver - mob leader kyungsoo has a soft spot for a ballerino jongin who has an ability to teleport which makes him vulnerable and kyungsoo wants to protect him
Shake My Heart - au where the power of one transfers to their soulmate
i fear, i fear, ‘twill prove a giddy world - ghafkd i mean i should not spoil anything but admin y says this gave her goosebumps w how intense this is and i trust her and her impeccale taste
the beautiful us - artist!au so jongin is a comic artist working on his own story about characters - with superpowers ;)
Stuck in a wall - school au, poor jongin stucks in there while teleporting and kyungsoo helps him
Perfumeries - i just found out it’s written by paradisist and I’m quaking why haven’t I read this before!!
Every Time I Fall - both went on a mission but kyungsoo gets injured heavily and jongin has limited time to save him (cries the ending is fuNNY)
overexert - this is kadi but also like jonginxeveryone. they’re are surrounded by the corrupted robots, which are going to capture their escape. but jongin is their key to freedom
chaptered/long like black magic:
Reapers - dystopian au + monster mv inspired, this comes with various pairings (not kaisoo centric)
Running Home - by kaisoochateau, jongin’s prioritiy in life is to train hard to get accepted to a prestigious uni but one day he discovers he has got a superpower he can’t control and his life changes 180 degrees
retrograde motion - 50k man… mama powers get switched
forbidden fate - we put this in the fantasy au as req as well i think? there’s like 20 chapters and it’s complete yey
hunted because of who we are - this is ot12 fic and kinda like a dystopian au i think a bit like xmen lol it’s ongoing as welllllll got 5 chaps so far
pythia - ongoing still 6 chaps, school au with powers
i would move mountains - by indi!! complete with 18 chaps, kyungsoo doesn’t remember a thing and keeps on living his simple life in village until one day he saves a stranger who claims they know each other
Gem of Earth - binch 40k+ like sign me tf up!!!! it’s ongoing (currently at 5 chaps) this fantasy story with action the mama elements sounds fun i can’t wait to read this!!
- Admin J & I
Q: do we know anything abt zodiac / its authors / will they update?
A: the authors once said they would probably let all exo die in the last chap or something along those lines (don’t take this seriously) but in all honesty, I don’t think it’ll ever be finished, considering it’s taken down and neither of the authors want to talk about it….but if you must: http://inkin-asks.tumblr.com/ask if you feel brave enough
(rip zodiac 2012-2017 you’ll be missed)
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Husband, Kim JunMeow
Table of Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Chapter o5. Summer 1996
Unrestrained, the two of us passionately kiss. Our heads bobble against one another as we unleash our sinful emotions. I almost choke from holding my breath for so long. Fumbling, I round my arms around to unclasp my bra but Junmyeon grips onto my wrist. He props himself up.
“You’re drunk…” my lover notes.
“I’m not,” I counter, though, truthfully…I’m starting to see images in double.
Hushing me, Junmyeon gets off the bed and starts to tuck me in under the blankets.
“Kim. Jun. Myeon. Do you want to be my lover?” I toss out the bold question through my gibberish.
“You know I wouldn’t do that to you while you’re like this…” he reasons as he finally subdues me enough to stop thrashing the covers off. I whimper and roll around, greeting him with my bare back. With a soft chuckle, Junmyeon traces a heart along my skin and seals his feelings with a kiss. I shudder and go in and out of consciousness. My body feels as though it’s floating in mid-air.
My guardian spends the next few minutes quietly admiring my cherubic facial features. They’ve matured a lot since he first laid his eyes on me, but to him, I’m still as beautiful as ever…if not more so now.
“You still like him, don’t you?” Junmyeon says, almost sadly while brushing his thumb across my temple. He recalls the giddy little girl chasing after a cute older boy.
Soft sniffles morph into whimpers. A quiet pearl rolls down the corner of my eye. Junmyeon catches it with his finger, letting the cool liquid disperse back into the Heavens. Leaning over, he plants a loving kiss on the center of my forehead, hoping to alleviate the grimace plaguing my angelic face.
“Su...ho…” I softly sob. Junmyeon freezes. “Suho,” I repeat, this time clearer. Distilled liquid wavers in his twin orbs as he grabs hold of my outstretched hands. “Please…” I weep in my sleep, “…don’t separate us…”
“Ring-a-round the rosie, a pocket full of posies…Ashes! Ashes! We all fall down!” little kiddies sing as they skip, hand-in-hand, in circles.
The youngest of the bunch, a little girl with pigtails and a baby blue dress, is too late to fall down. She stands in her spot, innocently turning her head from left and right.
"Argh! She’s so stupid,” one insults.
The little girl blinks and tries to take the older girls’ hands again to retry the game. With an annoyed sigh, they sing and try to run in circles again but the baby’s steps are much smaller and slower due to her size. Again, she fails to comply with the game rules.
“You’re so stupid!” the older female jeers and pushes the younger child down onto the floor. Her baby skin soils in wet mud and she burst into tears. “Haha! There. Finally down! Now go!” the mean girl shoos. Her group of friends kick dirt onto the girl; some pick rotten berries from the nearby tree to throw at her.
“Minseok Oppa!!!” she calls and runs off. Her stubby legs only make it a short distance before she falls onto the ground. “Min…seok…Oppa?” she murmurs as she watches the residential cute boy playing on the big-kid slide with an older girl. The little girl’s parents had entrusted the boy to watch out for her, but he’s too busy to notice her.
“Minseok Oppa…” she innocently stumbles up to the blocked off area.
“Yah! Careful! Go away!” he hisses and waves her away, “You’re too young to be here. Go play elsewhere.”
Lips ripple, “Oppa, they pushed me—“
“What? Who—“
“Minseok-yah! Let’s go down the slide again!” the oblivious older girl grabs Minseok’s hand and pulls him away. He watches as the little girl lowers her head, turns around, and waddles away. When he finally shakes his friend’s grasp away, the girl is already gone.
Though only a toddler, the young girl already resorts to hiding in secluded places by herself whenever she feels as though she’s about to cry. She learns it from all the times she hears her parents fighting at home; she thinks that in the dark, people can’t see her, therefore, they can’t hurt her. Today, in this foreign atmosphere, she discovers her safe haven within a street trashcan.
Everything is pitch black and it’s cold. She starts to cry - though still reserved and quiet because she’s still scared to get caught. And then, she starts to release her suppressed emotions about the recent bully event and more-so the fact that her Minseok Oppa disregarded her. Her small body starts to convulse and the sudden onslaught of sobs cuts her air short. Frightened, she stands up, reaches her baby arms over her head, and tries to open the lid but it won’t budge. She gasp and tries again but it’s locked.
“Ma…” she thinks about shouting but remembers her skewed impression that in the dark she’s invisible and no one can hear her; thus, no one will find her. Shivering, she falls back down onto the base of the trashcan, rolls herself into a ball, and starts to quietly sob to herself.
“Meow…” a friendly sound echoes within the container.
Peeping her head out, the girl spots a pair of round eyes. The owner advances toward her, causing her to shrivel up into the corner.
“Meow~” the kitten, who has been silently watching her this whole time, scoots himself, paw by paw, up to the little human. “Meow…” he purrs and brushes his fluffy body against the trembling girl as if to provide her with some heat.
It isn’t until he climbs onto her lap, does she realize that the creature who can see her in the dark, when everyone disregarded her, isn’t a scary Monster of the Night out to feed on her flesh, but a tiny fur ball.
“Meow~” the kitty tilts his head and looks her in the eyes, as if saying, “Don’t cry, I’m here too". Reflexively, the feline starts to knead the girl’s belly.
“Are you hiding too?” she asks in her high pitched voice. “You’re so smol…you’re smoler than me…” she observes when her vision finally accommodates to the darkness. Her malnourished new friend nuzzles his head against her tummy and purrs. “Did the big kitties not pay with you, either?” the little girl pouts and pets the baby cat on his head.
“Meow…” his high pitch voice matches hers with perfection.
“It’s okay! I’ll pay wit chu!” she announces in excitement and then shyly inquires, “Do chu want to be fwiends?”
Meow!!” the abandoned kitten pounces up and down with joy.
They start to share conversations only they understand; the human toddler talks about how her bullies pushed her down and how her Minseok Oppa ignored her and the kitten responds with “Meows” and warm cuddles. Soon, the two of them fall asleep. Outside, day turns to night…night turns to day. But the two bonded souls only see darkness.
Amber alerts go out.
Both are starving and cold. The girl starts to sob again and the kitten automatically begins to sooth her with his light pats.
“Do you have a name?” she asks between weeps.
“Meow :(“
“Suho,” the girl names, “My mummy says it means ‘potector'!”
“Meow~” the kitty’s soft orbs turn into hearts as the girl takes her silver bell bracelet and puts it around her friend’s neck.
“We can protect each other,” she braves a smile, takes the kitty into her arms, and hugs him because she feels a sense of warmth she’s never felt before.
“Suho…” I choke out between sobs.
“I’m here. I’m right here…” Junmyeon rubs and brings my shaking hands up to his lips.
“It’s okay. I’m not scared when I’m with you…” the baby girl keeps repeating to herself as she falls in and out of consciousness. The white kitten head butts her several times to keep her awake. It’s been two and a half days. Summer mornings blaze with hot sun, turning the metal dumpster into a boiling pot; nights are colder than snow storms. The extreme temperature changes prove to be tolling on the young lives’ health. When garbagemen finally discovers them, they’re both unconscious and wrapped in each other’s arms.
“She loves the cat, let’s let her keep him,” her mother suggests when the sickly girl cries for her feline friend even as she’s convulsing from the fever. Almost a miracle, she makes remarkable progress when they place the now washed and healthy kitten beside her in bed.
“Suho!” she beams as she runs around the garden, letting her pigtails bounce up and down. Her best friend chases after her, the bell around his neck jingling pure bliss into the air. Giggling, the tiny girl falls onto the grass, letting the kitty climb onto her belly.
They become inseparable.
“Suho…” the toddler rolls onto her tummy in bed after her mother finishes tucking her in. Soft glows of her night light draw a halo around Suho’s fluffy head. He hops onto her bed, something that’s forbidden by the girl’s parents - but it’s okay when they are alone. Naturally, he nestles in to the croak of his human’s neck and starts to doze off to sweet slumber. “I’m not going to marry Minseok Oppa,” she decisively states. The kitten perks up, tilts his head to one side, and stares at her. “When I grow up, I’m going to marry you!” she announces as she kisses his pink nose.
“TOSS HIM OUT!” her father shouts as soon as the doctors diagnose the girl’s fever and swollen cut as “Cat Scratch Disease”.
She wails as her mom carries her away. Her illness lasts the entirety of a month and due to the late diagnosis, the high fever had stolen away parts of her memory.
“Suho?” she’d randomly call as she looks out the window as if waiting for someone but not knowing who.
“Just your imagination, Honey. Cats are dangerous. Don’t go near them,” her mother strokes her head and brings the confused girl into her embrace.
I jolt up in bed with tears rushing down my cheeks. Vertigo paralyses my consciousness, blood rushes down from my head. I pull my hand up to alleviate my dizziness, only to find out that it is intertwined with Junmyeon’s. He had fallen asleep with his head resting on the side of my bed. My tug stirs him awake.
“He-hey…” he greets, his voice hoarse. As soon as his initial grogginess dispels, he spots the streams rushing down my porcelain face. His brows dive. “Wuh-what’s wrong?”
Shaking my head, I turn away and try to wipe away the tears but Junmyeon gets up and spins me around. I hiccup, more streams rush down my cheeks, for reasons, I don’t even know. Images from my dream starts in fade, first, slowly so that I still recall the coldness of the trashcan or the boiling heat of my forehead…the soft white fur of Suho…and then…I start to just recall his high pitch “Meow…” Suho…then in record speed, all the recollections accelerate and vanish. Just like that…leaving a hole in my heart I didn’t know why or how to fill.
“Why are you crying?” the caring gentleman inquires as he holds me against his chest.
“I…don’t…know?” I reply as I weep. It takes another hour or so of cuddling before Junmyeon deems me “fine” enough for him to let go. A small smile clings on my lips as I watch him walk out to fetch me some water. So protective…
“We can protect each other!” a little girl’s voice sounds in my mind.
Wincing, I hold my throbbing head.
“Headache?” my lover sprints from the doorway to my side. “You drank too much last night…” he shakes his head and hands me the glass of water.
“Ye-yeah…I think I drank a little too much…” I admit.
“A little?” Junmyeon raises his brow and runs his fingers through my hair.
“Let’s have sex,” I recall my own voice saying. Slowly, reality hits me hard. I remember my lips massaging his…my trying to undress…
I slap a hand against my lips and stared wide-eyed at Junmyeon. The strange part is that, I’m now fully dressed in PJs.
“Wuh-what…” I stutter as I rolled both my palms and hold it up to my face. Junmyeon brings my head to rest against his chest again and proceeds to start massaging my temples. And lemme tell you, if this boy isn’t a part-time nudist, he is definitely a masseur…his touch is so soft but strong, hitting the pressure points with perfection.
Automatically, my head tosses back and I groan with pleasure. His chuckle tinges my cheeks in bubblegum pink.
“Did you…help me get dressed?” I bite my lower lip and murmur.
“Ah, yeah…I didn’t want you to catch a cold,” Junmyeon explains so casually, as if he does this all the time. Frowning, I rub the back of my neck. He misinterprets it as my muscles are stiff and brings his hands down to massage the area. I fail to stifle back a giggle when he brushes over a weak spot. His gentleman soft smile twitches into a smirk. Naughtily, he runs his fingertips over that area.
“HEY!” I whip my head around and laugh through my pout.
“Now, I know your ticklish spot,” he does a pretend-evil cackle. His goofiness gives me so much life. “You’re always attacking my weak spot, now I can finally have revenge!” Junmyeon teases.
“What are you talking about? When have I attacked you?”
“You always tickle my belly!” Junmyeon crinkles his nose and throws me a pretend grumpy pout.
“When did I…wait…,” I smirk, “So your weak spot is your belly?!” I say as my tickle fingers activate and I attack him on his abdomen. Mellifluous giggles ring from my ears to his. The two of us fall against the bed. Out of breath and weak from laughing so hard, I withdraw my hands but my retreat is Junmyeon’s cue to advance. I gasp as the handsome male grabs either sides of my waist, rolls me over, and pins me against the bed. Pupils dart back and forth, the bluish hue of his unique orbs flashes with vibrancy.
“So…about the request you made last night…” he leans over and whispers into my ear. I gulp.
“Let’s have sex.”
“Wuh-what…request?” I pant from my overactive heart. My lover strokes my jawline and teases me with a shrug. “Ah, maybe next time then.”
As he starts to get up, I grab his wrist. Peering into my fearful but desperate eyes, Junmyeon sits back down on the bed. An aura of seriousness replaces that of his previous playfulness. “I’m not who you think I am…” he acknowledges. With soften expression, he strokes my hair, leans over, and plants a kiss on the center of my forehead. As I close my eyes, a quiet sigh slips through my lips. “I’ll make breakfast,” he volunteers and gets up. This time, I don’t stop him.
~
“JunMeow-ah, where are you?” The worried potato cat mom in me hunches over, with a cat toy in my hand, to lure out my feline friend. But the white fluff is nowhere in sight. With a frown, I join Junmyeon in the kitchen.
“This disloyal cat,” I grumpily murmur.
“Hm?” my lover blinks and pouts as if I had insulted him.
“He keeps running off somewhere. I bet he has a lover,” I conclude. As I sip on some apple juice, I narrow my eyes and add, “Maybe multiple lovers…”
“What? No! No, he doesn’t!” Junmyeon defends.
Raising my brow, I question, “How do you know?”
He flattens his lips and uses the excuse that the eggs on the pan are burning to avoid my interrogation.
“Either way, I booked an appointment to get him neutered so he won’t be out and about much longer~” I singsong as I slip into my seat on the kitchen counter.
Junmyeon almost drops the pan. With widened eyes, he brings his free hand protectively over his groan.
~
“Ahhh!!!” I shrill.
Startled, Junmyeon, who had been reviewing my chemistry homework for mistakes, gets up and sprints over to the bathroom. He bangs the door but I’m too traumatized to respond. Another few moments of silence forces the concerned male to kick down the barrier.
I blink. Reflexively, his oscillating orbs dart down the curvatures of my wet body. Only clothed in a thin bath towel that highlighted only the most attractive parts, there is not much left for imagination. Hair sticks against my small face, framing it to perfection. Water droplets rush down, collecting at the hollows of my collarbone. Junmyeon is as stiff as a statue at the doorway.
“mMM!!!” I bounce up and down on my toes and point at a corner of the bathroom. Still, the stunned man can’t seem to remove his eyes from my body, especially since I wasn’t really being cautious with my movements. The short hops only causes his mind to go wild when my amble breasts rode along. It’s not until I squeal again and leap over to him that he finally slaps himself awake. “Junmyeon!!! Rat!”
Tilting his had to the side, he follows my pointer finger and catches the little rodent sniffling behind the toilet. With a smirk, the human cat confidently strides over and lets his shadow hover over the smaller creature. Immediately, the rat’s eyes widens and it starts to squeeze in between a small gap to avoid capture. Unfortunately, Junmyeon is too quick for him; in one swift swipe, he lifts the mouse up by the tail.
“AHHHHH!” I scramble as goosebumps rise along my arm.
With a mischievous grin, Junmyeon starts to walk over to me. Anxiously, I shake my head and hands until he corners me against the opposite wall.
“It’s kinda cute,” Junmyeon remarks as he observes the dangling rodent. He holds it up to my face so I could see.
“NO! NO!” I shout but the boy is a little too playful today.
In efforts to get away from my musophobia, I flee through a small escape. Unfortunately, my escape plan fails when the bottom of my feet battles a wet puddle on the tiled floors. As my body starts to lose its balance, Junmyeon heaves, tosses the mice into the air to free his hands, and catches me by the waist.
“Are you—“
PLAT
A furry gray mass blurs my vision. The rodent had landed right dab on the center of my forehead. Within Junmyeon’s arms, I stiffen in place, not daring to move a single inch because its sharp razor-blade teeth could easily blind me.
“Jun…Junmyeon…ah…” I whimper through my trembling lips.
With ease, the brave warrior picks up the rodent by its tail again, releasing me of torture. Immediately, I wash my face. My reflection is a complete mess; wet hair disheveled with a few matted areas and towel barely clinging against the curve of my breast…but at this moment, I could care less. Frowning, I cross my arms over my chest and turn to my lover who is laying on his stomach, on the bathroom floor, fooling around with his new friend.
“What are you doing?” I ask with my brows knitted together.
To my dismay, he exclaims, “It’s so cute!”
“Kim Junmyeon, are you serious?”
“Can we keep it?!” the kitty boy looks up with a toothy grin. It immediately falls when he sees the fright written on my face; my eyes toggle with brimming tears.
Lips rippling, I dash out of the bathroom, calling, “JunMeow-ah…JunMeow, where are you? I’m being bullied…” I dramatically sob to my cat, who’s been missing for three days.
“I’ll free it to the sewers!!!” Junmyeon, immediately, corrects.
~
“Where are you…?” I whisper as my mind can’t seem to concentrate on my homework when it’s worrying over my missing cat. It’s been almost a week.
“I’m right here,” Junmyeon, who’s beside me, answers. “You used the wrong equation for this problem,” he points out as he looks over my assignments. I throw him a grim look. Yeah, it’s fun to have Junmyeon around but the thought of my little baby wandering the streets with no yummy fish to eat rocks me with sorrow.
“I want to go look for JunMeow,” I curl up into a ball and admit.
My tutor’s face softens at my confession. Had he finally captured my heart?
“I’m sure he’ll come back soon,” the handsome male squeezes my hand.
I peep my head out from my knees and look up at him, questionably. “How do you know?”
“Tonight. There’s a chance he will be back tonight,” he reassures.
Slowly, my frown fades away. Kim Junmyeon may be a mysterious human being but he never breaks any promises. With his beautiful smile, he reaches out and pinches my pink nose.
“Don’t worry. If he knew that you loved him that much, he wouldn’t have left in the first place…” he makes an unconscious confession. His eyes are distant and a little troubled. But they’re so gorgeous, especially with his framed specs. My heart flutters as I grow giddy at the thought of a smart husband.
“Heh…” I let out a giggle.
“We’re kinda out of food…” my lover reminds. Unfortunately, two stomachs empty out the fridge faster than one.
“Let’s go grocery shopping!” I announce. Without wasting another second, I slip my fingers through his and tug him along.
“Is it a date?” Junmyeon coyly questions while tightening the grip on my hand. His grin is not soft and lovely like normal, but cheesy and greasy. He almost looks like JunMeow after he finishes a good meal.
“Hm…maybe…” I tease while swinging his hand as we skip down the side walk. I hop to a stop and spin to face him. “Do you want it to be a date?” I try to hide my hope and bashfulness by boldly asking.
Junmyeon answers by leaning over and swiftly stealing a quick peck on my lips. Casually, he starts to walk off, leaving me flailing around like a lovestruck kitten. Biting my lower lip, I call and chase after him. With a bright beaming expression, my lover halts in his tracks to allow me to catch up. My arms naturally find his hip and he throws an arm over my shoulder.
“Let’s get some yummy food before it rains,” Junmyeon suggests and plants a sweet kiss on the top of my head.
Excitedly, I nod. Fish, fish, and more fish. Chicken, carrots, peas, and green beans. I pick up some tomatoes and Junmyeon grimaces.
“You don’t like tomatoes?” I inquire as I marvel at how round and cute the tiny vegetables are.
My lover shakes his head. “I’m allergic to them. But you should get them if you like them,” he encourages, takes the bunch of tomatoes from my hand, and puts it onto the cart. I beam and nuzzle my head against his arm as if I’m a cat. Chuckling, he lovingly pets my head.
As we head to pay for the groceries, we pass the pet aisle. Automatically, my feet advances forward, as if there is an magnetic pull, pulling me in. My fingers run across the canned food and kitty litter, stopping at a feather toy shaped like a mouse. Junmyeon follows behind and puts both his palms on the balls of my shoulders.
“You think JunMeow would like this?” I ponder out loud, my voice a soft whisper.
“He would love it,” my lover replies. I turn to him with a sad smile. “Anything you get him, he would love,” he adds.
“Do you want to pick one out for him too? When he comes back, you can gift it to him as a first meeting present,” I suggest. Junmyeon perks up at the idea. “JunMeow is a little coo-coo when visitors try to play with him.”
“Heh…” the catman anxiously rubs his neck.
When we exit the store, gray clouds loom over us from above. With a frown, I create a hand visor and tilt my head up to the gloomy sky that didn’t quite fit the romantic and happy day I was having.
“It looks like it’s going to rain, we better hurry back,” I say.
My lover tenses up and hesitantly follows me. He’s abnormally quiet so I try to initiate some surface conversations but all he does is answer with short, “Uh, yeah…” and “Mmhmm…” as his mind is distressed with the bad timing of everything. Midway home, it starts to drizzle. I hold my palm out to catch a perfectly round rain droplet. Giggling, I start to spin in circles. Sometimes, it’s best to just dance in the rain instead of running away from it, after all. But I pause as soon as I spot Junmyeon’s agitated expression.
“Something wrong?” I skip up to him and inquire.
My voice brings him back to reality. “Uh…uh…hey, I’m sorry.”
I blink as he hands me the bags of groceries, he wouldn’t let me carry at all before.
“I have an emergency. I have to go,” he briefs.
Again, I blink. It starts to pour. Panicking, Junmyeon darts into the alleyway. “I’ll be back soon! Don’t worry!!” his promise fades with the growing distance.
“Oh…kay…” I reply to an empty alley. Shrugging the sorrow off, I hold a hand over my head and sprint my way home. Despite, the effort, I end up drenched.
“Argh, I should have brought an umbrella,” I groan as I stomp up the stairs. My wet shoes squeak with every step. With a sigh, I dig in my pockets for my keys. When I look up at my doorway, I’m greeted by a very soaking soppy white cat.
“Meow~” he calls.
I drop the grocery bags and get down on my knees. “JunMeow!!” I shout and throw my arms over him. “Where have you—“ I start but stop and put him at an arm’s length. Cringing, I comment, “You smell like a wet cat.” No duh.
Scooting him inside the apartment, I struggle but eventually carry the stubborn cat into the bathtub by threatening that either he takes a shower or he’s sleeping on the floor. As I prepare the pet shampoo and the towels, I can’t help but laugh at his face of doom.
“Why, Honey? Showers are so therapeutic,” I chuckle.
“Meow >:(,” he groans, which only makes me laugh harder.
“Wanna bathe together, then? I’m soaked too,” I make a Devil’s bargain purely as a joke. The cat starts to choke and hack out coughs. Gasping, I get down on my knees and stroke his back. “See, look at you, you ran away and caught a cold, you dumb butt,” I half-scold and start to massage the soap into his fur. His eyes roll back and for the first time in his kitty life, JunMeow discovers that baths can be delightful.
“Stop running away,” I nag again.
“Meow…” my kitty responds and obediently closes his eyes when I hold the shower head up to his face.
“Is your lover really that pretty?” I hold both his paws and ask.
“Meow :),” he licks the back of my hands.
“Hmph,” I pretend to pout, “So you keep leaving me for a pretty girl? Aren’t I pretty?”
JunMeow blinks. I throw a towel over his little body to dry him off.
Picking him up, I state, “Either way, you’re getting neutered tomorrow morning.”
“MEOWEOUWEUIWUEIOUWUEOUWEUOWUEOUUW,” the cat thrashes in my arms.
A/N: ₍₍(=ච ﻌ ච=) Ya’ll should know me by now, I trollol but sexy time will happen ;p just gonna build up some sexual tension first
Well, that’s if JunMeow doesn’t get neutered first! !?! (Дﾟ≡ﾟДﾟ) ?!!
Follow, like, comment, spam my inbox to motivate me. Daily updates.
>>My Husband, Kim JunMeow Archive<<
>>Story Master Archive<<
#suho scenario#exo scenario#suho fanfic#exo fanfic#suho scenarios#exo scenarios#suho fanfiction#exo fanfiction#suho#exo#junmyeon#exo imagines#My Husband Kim JunMeow#pandabearlikes
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 1
You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.
pairings: dark!Avengers x reader
word length: 3.3k
chapters: 1/?
warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. Open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.
Cleaning rich people’s vacation homes hadn’t been your dream job growing up. You had such high hopes when you were a kid, well into your teens, of becoming a zoologist. It had started off like most kid’s dreams—in kindergarten you wanted to be a veterinarian. That grew into wanting to become a herpetologist, but then you wondered, why limit yourself? As a zoologist you could be around tons and tons of animals, studying their behaviors and ecological impacts. It was about half way past your fourteenth birthday that you realized none of your dreams mattered.
You woke in the middle of the night to a crippling pain in your stomach, an unbearable heat boiling under your flesh. You must’ve been screaming, because your parents burst in frantically—only to stop dead upon stepping past the threshold. At the time you had no idea why, but it had been shock. Omegas were rare nowadays, more and more betas were being born while the number of omegas dropped. It was a point on contention; betas could breed with alphas, rendering the omega almost obsolete but alphas, especially ones with packs, wanted omegas.
Personally, you figured that evolution had decided to take things into its’ own hands. Everything about omegas spat in the face of adaption; they were small and delicate, hardwired to obey alpha commands even to their own detriment, experienced a full weeks’ worth of being completely and utterly incapable of survival on their own—
Well, unless one acquired (through whatever means necessary) methods to prevent it that one. Heats, a homegrown threat guaranteed to commit acts of violence at least twice a year. By the time your first had worn off, your parents had already jumped into action. They had three different packs bidding on you. Your mother had been bubbling with glee, talking about how wonderful it was that she had produced an omega when she herself was a beta. Your very existence was about to rocket them into both fame and fortune. So, you ran away. That same night.
It had been shockingly easy to locate illegal suppressants. They taught all about them in school, how they were horrible and taxing on an omega’s physiology. Suppressants masked an omega’s scent, prevented their heats, and (in your opinion) were the best invention of the twenty first century. You couldn’t have given a flying fuck about what negative impacts they might’ve had on your body—death would be a reprieve. Unfortunately you’d yet to have any of the widely touted negative effects (effects that you were pretty sure were made up to keep omegas afraid and compliant) and so you found yourself cleaning rich people’s vacation homes just over the Canadian border.
You’d been living out of your car since you first bought it at sixteen, for five hundred dollars. You gave a creepy beta a blowjob to get your license forged. It was the best investment you’d ever made (not that you had the opportunity to make many) and the clunker was still getting you from point A to point B and that’s all you needed. You had to move constantly, staying in one place too long meant people started to notice you, especially in the small towns you frequented in Ontario. But there was so much forest surrounding you that every once in a while you could just drop off the face of the earth, camping so deep in the woods no one would stumble across you. It made staying anonymous so much easier.
That was actually the current plan, after you finished cleaning this last massive cabin; to abscond into the woods for a while, until you’ve faded from everyone’s memory. You won’t return to this town for at least a year. You’ll spark recognition when you return, but not enough for anyone to consider you more than an outsider in their close-knit community. The kind woman who lets you work for her cleaning company so sporadically will remember you when you ring her, the only person particularly thrilled to hear you’re back for a few months.
You do an excellent job and you do it fast— you can thoroughly and perfectly clean a 6 bedroom mansion by yourself in less than 10 hours and you were paid under the table so you didn’t require overtime, which Mrs. Hunt loved (there was no tax to be taken from an unreported cash payment though, so it was a fair trade in your opinion). You would work yourself to the bone, 10 hours a day everyday there was work available for at least three months and then dip without any expectations until the next time you returned, when she was gushing over the amazing reviews your work had gotten the last time you were around.
It was symbiotic existence—you were paid well for your efforts, more than enough to sustain living out of your car for months at a time, and your performance drove her online reviews into the 4.9 stars range and made it feasible for her to raise her prices. Mrs. Hunt didn’t ask any questions either, even when you requested to only work alone and couldn’t provide any identification beyond a driver’s license.
You were finishing up the kitchen in what was definitely one of the nicest places you’d ever cleaned when your phone went off in your back pocket. It made your skin prickle. Very few people had your number and you couldn’t think of a single reason they’d ring you instead of texting unless something was wrong. You propped the mop against your shoulder and dug out the phone, frowning at Mrs. Hunt’s name on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Oh sweetie, I’m so glad I got a hold of you! How are you doing?”
“I’m well, Mrs. Hunt,” you answered, your voice coming out semi-robotically as you strained not to sound panicked while continuing the conversation like a normal fucking person, “I’m just about done here, I was finishing the dry mop in the kitchen when you called and then all I need to do is pack up.”
“Oh perfect! I was calling because the owner just rang me, apparently some of his packmates will be arriving a bit earlier than anticipated—potentially within the next hour. Something about someone getting caught up at work, I’ll spare you the details. But if you’re almost done then you’ll probably be gone by the time they arrive.”
“Certainly Mrs. Hunt,” you’d immediately started frantically dry mopping the moment the words ‘within the next hour’ escaped the woman’s mouth, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder. “I’ll be gone in the next few minutes.”
“Now even if you aren’t its okay,” the concern in her voice meant that your own had betrayed you, waivered when you responded without your knowledge. “I always warn the owners that if they arrive before the scheduled time that there’s a possibility the house won’t be done and/or there might be people actively working in the house. You won’t get in any trouble, okay?”
“R-Right, thank you ma’am,” you swallowed heavily, finishing the last swipe across the tile in the kitchen and hustling back into the foyer. “I really won’t be but a minute though. I always keep all of my equipment put away and together if I’m not using it, so I really just need to pack up the mop.”
Which you’d already shoved into the rolling cart you picked up each morning that held all of your cleaning supplies provided by the company.
“Don’t forget your bucket too!” Mrs. Hunt sounded smiley again, “I’ll leave the key under the mat so you can stow your cart tonight. Have a good one swee—.”
“You too!” You might’ve hung up a touch too soon to be considered polite, shoving the phone back into your pocket and running into the kitchen. There was no time to dwell on manners.
The mop bucket was sitting on the counter, already washed and dried and waiting to be put away. You’d started keeping your things completely put away at all times the same day you’d been accosted by a homeowner who arrived home earlier than expected while you were still trying to pack up. You’d tried to put your notice in that night, a couple of years ago now, but Mrs. Hunt begged you not to—promised it would never happen again. This must’ve been her best attempt at preventing it. At least you had already planned to leave town tonight anyway.
You nearly sprinted back to the cart, haphazardly tossing the stupid bucket on top and wheeling it towards the huge front doors. You’d just stopped to reach around and grab the handle when the knob turned and the left door was pushed open, nearly hitting your cart.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he was a beta, curly haired and dark eyed with pale skin, wearing a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Did I knock anything over?”
“N-No, sir,” you pulled the cart back a few steps, nearly trembling with the effort it took not to blast right past him, especially when you noticed him carefully scenting the air. "The house is all clean, I was j-just leaving.”
“Thank you, for getting everything clean for us. We don’t get to come out here as often as we like, I’m sure the place collected a lot of dust in our absence,” he smiled, looking both parts shy and calculating to your well trained eye— and you had no time for such consideration.
“Not too much, h-have a nice night!” You could feel your pulse racing and that was bad. Even the good suppressants, the ones that most of your money went to, had difficulty completely masking the scent of panicking omega.
“Did you use bleach?” The question caught you off guard and you almost jumped when he put a hand on your cart, glancing through the array of chemicals.
“Y-Yes, in the bathrooms. I wasn’t informed of any sensitivities—”
“Nothing a little fresh air won’t take care of,” you wanted him to stop looking at you like that, like there was some pale flash of recognition behind his eyes. “Would you go open the windows in the bathrooms upstairs? I’m afraid my nose is pretty sensitive, several of my packmates are similar.”
You did not like that his nose was especially sensitive and you hated that his packmates were similarly afflicted. It felt like getting punched in the face with a fight or flight instinct, your brain immediately demanded that you leave the cart and run past him—fuck the cart, fuck the job, you could find something else.
“Oh, and do you have the key to the front doors? I might as well get them from you now instead of us having to go down to the office tomorrow.” Your hand immediately dove into your pocket, yanking out the single key and dropping it in his palm. “Thanks— and the windows? Sorry, I just can’t go up there until it’s aired out.”
He wasn’t a huge man but the way he filled the doorway made you second guess trying to run past him, even if he was greying at the temples and looking a little rumpled. It was strange, you wouldn’t usually have such an intense reaction to a beta, but something about him was vaguely unsettling. So instead of trying to make a run for it, you turned on your heel and forced yourself to calmly walk up the stairs. There were four massive bedrooms in the cabin, each with its own bathroom and you’d need to go through and open the windows for the three bathrooms that had them. It meant darting into huge bedrooms, dodging expensive furniture and knickknacks and trying not to dirty the freshly mopped and swept hardwood floors in the process.
It took about five minutes but you felt like you’d run a marathon, your heart was pounding and there was sweat at the nape of your neck. All you wanted was out of the stupid fucking house, immediately. You dashed down the stairs and turned the corner, seeing your cart right where you left it. The door was still open too, but the beta was no where to be seen. You immediately darted forward, grabbing the cart tightly and beginning to push it past the threshold—
You were stopped in your tracks at the sight of two unnecessarily broad alphas. Both were tall, the white man standing just an inch or so taller, with a full beard and blond hair. The black alpha had facial hair too, a cleanly edged goatee to match a faded cut. Both were incredibly attractive and putting off waves of pheromones, to the point that your head floated for a moment. Your lips clamped shut on a whine, instinct trying to push through and alert the two powerful alphas of your presence. Instead you ducked your head and continued out the door.
“Hi there, sweetheart.” Your gaze snapped up, immediately locking with a pair of dark brown eyes. “You the housekeeper?”
“Yes sir,” you answered quietly, stopping short in front of them when neither moved out of your way. “Sorry to have been here so late. Have a good evening.”
Both were still smiling, still pointedly not moving.
“My name’s Steve, that’s Sam,” the blond’s nose twitched, just slightly, and you realized he was very discretely scenting the air. “Nice to meet you. Do you live in town?”
“N-No, please excuse me,” you nudged the cart forward just an inch but they still didn’t budge and panic began coursing through your blood with renewed vigor, “excuse m—”
“Your scent is… confusing,” Steve’s head tilted to the side, “I don’t mean to be crass, of course, but I couldn’t help but notice.”
“It’s always been this way,” the response was automatic and your brain began shutting down all unnecessary functions; you were about to have to run and hope your omega physiology would make you faster than them.
“You smell almost like an omega,” he continued, both hands coming to rest on his hips, emphasizing the width of his shoulders. “But not quite?”
“I’m a beta.”
“Are you sweetheart?” Sam’s voice was a rumble, his head tilted to the side while his dark eyes burned holes into your skin.
The tone an alpha used with naughty omegas was deliberate and tightly controlled, the same as a command or a purr or a growl. It was on purpose, an attempt to nicely draw out the correct response. He wanted you to admit you were an omega, to tell them the truth of your own volition. The fact that your hindbrain desperately wanted to comply was a completely different issue—one you didn’t have time to address right now.
“Positive,” you breathed, clenching your fists tightly around the handles of the cart for just a second before deciding to leave it behind; you’d never be coming back here, there was no reason to worry about preserving your job.
Your eyes were quick and indefinitely perceptive. Being an omega was one step up from being a prey species, it came with inherent instincts that made you especially good at predicting behaviors. After all, an omega was only as good as their ability to please and soothe packmates. One of the single upsides to being an omega was that you were fast though—fast enough to outrun most alphas. And you only needed to go about a hundred and fifty feet, once you were in your car you could certainly get away. So the second you realized the pair was about to shift, moving to face each other more than you, you darted around the cart and dodged to the left.
It wasn’t your fault, honestly. There was no way you could’ve known you weren’t dealing with normal alphas. The blond was so fast that he almost moved between blinks—one moment he was still, the next he’d wrapped his arms around you and tugged you back into his chest. His arms were like steel, one wrapped around your torso to keep your arms pinned to your sides while the other carefully held your chin. Your hindbrain was screaming now, submit, submit, make alpha happy and you bit down on your tongue to hold in the whimpers, the omega sounds your throat was trying to produce.
“Shhh, shh, calm down,” it was half a tone away from being a purr and you continued to squirm while you still could—an alpha command was coming, you could feel it in your bones.
“Let Steve smell you,” Sam was rumbling instead of talking again, a similar half purr to how Steve had started speaking. "Everything’s okay, omega.”
You felt a nose nudge down your neck, towards your scent gland and you bared your teeth at the man in front of you. “I’m not an omega!”
“You smell like omega,” Steve’s breath ghosted over your skin and you fought a shiver. "Sort of. It’s buried, under… beta… sour beta?”
“What sort of suppressants are you on, sweetie?” You startled as the beta from earlier emerged from the house, wiping his hands on a dish towel absently. "Are you cutting them with anything? Heroin, or coke? It’s okay, you just need to tell me.”
“Tell Bruce sweetheart,” Sam coaxed, automatically moving to roll up the sleeves of your shirt, evidently looking for track marks. "Where do you get them?”
“I’m not on suppressants!” Your voice was almost a shriek at this point, desperately imitating the behavior of an angry beta rather than a terrified omega. “I’m a beta! Get off of me!”
“Okay, okay, here then,” Steve’s arm around your torso tightened, the one on your chin beginning to work its way down towards your jeans. "There’s only way one to tell for sure.”
Shock and fear and humiliation; an array of emotions swarmed through your body as his hand popped the button but those were the three you could identify and you immediately started thrashing your legs—he was going to check if you had an omega ridge and then everything would be over. It was a defining physical characteristic that couldn’t be passed off as anything other than what it was: a boney protrusion meant to catch on an alpha’s knot so they could be locked in place. In females it was found in the vagina, prominently featured directly before the g-spot so a knot would cause persisting pleasure. For males it was similarly positioned next to the prostate.
“Calm down, calm down!” Sam crooned, hands coming up to cup your face as while Steve’s slithered down the front of your jeans and into your panties. "It’s okay sweetheart, no matter what. Whatever Steve finds, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll keep you safe.”
The thrashing was doing nothing but tiring you out, you’d already been intensively cleaning for the past 9 hours without a break and it certainly wasn’t dissuading the hand slithering between your folds. You bit down on your tongue harder, until you drew blood to prevent the whimpers—you couldn’t make that stupid sound, you’d never make that stupid, pathetic, whiney noise, you couldn’t. Not even when a long, thick finger penetrated and sunk knuckle deep. Not even when the pad of said finger brushed your g-spot before hooking onto the ridge, tugging gently in a way that would’ve caused blinding pleasure had you not grounded yourself with the pain of biting your tongue.
“There it is,” Steve’s voice was soft, finger carefully running the length of the ridge. "A nice deep one too.”
“How long have you been taking suppressants?” Bruce prodded quietly, coming to stand next to Sam. “I need to know what sort of damage we’re looking at.”
When you didn’t respond Sam sighed, fingers brushing gently over your chin as he directed you to face him. "Please don’t make us use an alpha command, sweetheart. We just wanna take care of you. Tell Bruce how long you’ve been on suppressants, please.”
You regarded the handsome alpha for several short moments before spitting a mouthful of blood directly into his face.
content warnings: assault, noncon vaginal fingering
edited 7/9/21 - still on hiatus
#avengers x reader#steve rogers x reader#thor x reader#bucky barnes x reader#sam wilson x reader#tony stark x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#clint barton x reader#dark!steve rogers#dark!thor#dark!bucky barnes#dark!tony stark#dark!natasha romanoff#wow i give up its too many#posies chapter 1#will reblog w tags in just a sec
2K notes
·
View notes
Link
by Nemi_Birb
"Ring-a-round the roses,
A pocket full of posies,
Hush! Hush! Hush! Hush!
We've all tumbled down"
For AEM Week 2019!!
Words: 1199, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 4 of AllEraserMic Week 2019
Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: M/M, Multi
Characters: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yagi Toshinori | All Might/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic
Additional Tags: Angst, End of the World, Machines, AEM Week 2019
0 notes
Text
The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Wednesday, July 22 - Thursday, July 23
BUFFY: Everybody knows their jobs. Remember, the ritual starts, we all die. And I'll kill anyone who comes near Dawn.
Buffy turns and walks off. Willow turns to the open door and leaves. Angle on Giles and Spike. Giles is clutching his side where he was speared in "Spiral." Spike glances at Giles, then back in the direction Buffy went.
SPIKE: Well, not exactly the St. Crispin's Day speech, was it?
GILES: We few...
Giles goes past Spike as Spike gathers up the bag of weapons.
GILES: ...we happy few.
SPIKE: We band of buggered.
~~The Gift~~
The Sunnydale Herald is currently looking for a few new editors! Contributing to the Herald is a great way to get your Buffy on! For more information, send us an ask (on Tumblr) or post a reply to this post (on Livejournal or Dreamwidth)!
[Drabbles & Short Fiction]
Shattered (Buffy/Angel, Angelus, PG) by badly_knitted
Unleashed Passion (Buffy/Angelus, M, in Italian) by Troi_ontheHellmouth
Godmother (Cordelia/Giles, Buffy, Wesley, G) by gaiarheahera
White Wedding (Spike/Buffy, Dawn/Wesley, G) by Niamh
Lonely Too Long (Angel/Willow, T) by Ladyfae
Reversed (Angel/Willow, Xander, T) by Ladyfae
[s4 Fuffy ficlet inspired by Halsey song "Strangers"] (Faith/Buffy, not rated) by sevens-evan
things you said with my lips on your neck (Jenny/Giles, not rated) by sevens-evan
Dear Spike, (Spike, not rated) by prose-for-hire
Shattered (Buffy/Angel, Angelus, PG) by badly-knitted
Giles drabble (not rated, worksafe) by LemonBanana
[Chaptered Fiction]
Timeless Love, Chapter 6 (Drusilla, Fanged Four, Xin Rong, not rated, violence) by darkjanet2
In a Corner of My Soul, chapter title "Have a Nice Summer" (Giles/Ethan, T) by dragonyphoenix
Pocket Full of Posies, Part I (Buffy/Giles, FRM) by Will_Conqueror1
The Devil In Disguise, Chapter 13 (crossover with Dexter, Faith/Debra Morgan, M) by frogfarm
Now These Three Remain, Chapter 2 (Cordelia/Giles, Buffy, Angel, Willow, G) by gaiarheahera. COMPLETE!
Your Mess Is Mine, Chapter 4 (Cordelia/Giles, Scoobies, M) by EternalRedWolfe
Souls Unbound, Chapter 1 (Spike/Buffy, ensemble, E) by touchstoneaf
Never Is A Promise, Chapter 18 (Buffy/Angel, T) by butimbroken
Let the Wrong One In, Chapter 24 (Buffy, Giles, Spike, OC, T) by Cynder2013
Princess Buffy's Choice, Chapter 7 and 8 (Spike/Buffy, Angel, PG-13) by zarryspolo
Sleeping Arrangements, Epilogue (Spike/Buffy, PG-13) by ChryshCn. COMPLETE!
Lonelier Thing, Chapter 16 (crossover with Chuck, Willow/Vivian, FR13) by EnergyBeing
Bartlet on the Grand Tour, Chapter 1 (crossover with West Wing, Xander, FR13) by vidicon
Buffy: Koroshi-yo, Chapter 13 (multiple crossovers, Buffy, FR18) by batzulger
[Images, Audio & Video]
Artwork: Phone wallpapers (Spike, Buffy, Spike/Buffy, worksafe) by chocokian
Artwork: "Prophecy Girl" icons (Buffy, worksafe) by misstaramaclay
Vid: All I Want (Buffy/Spike) by otpmoments
Vid: Dance with the Devil (Buffy/Spike) by Buffy Spike
Vid: All the Good Girls go to Hell (Buffy) by Capricorn Sunset
Speedpaint: Spike (worksafe) by E Creates
Speedpaint: Willow and Tara (worksafe) by E Creates
Animation: Eighth Wonder (Spike, worksafe) by Zylo_oo
Music: BtVS theme cover by Post Quarantine Punks
Music: I'm Under Your Spell - vocal cover by CocoLou
Music: I'm Under Your Spell - ukulele cover by Kuky Ideas
Artwork: Drusilla banner (worksafe) by LemonBanana
Sample images of a new HD remaster by Gibbzee
[Reviews & Recaps]
Review of Boom!Buffy: Willow, Issue 01 by harsens-rob
1.10 Nightmares by wombathos
Never Kill a Boy on the First Date by JustDaggers
Diamond Select Toys SDCC 2020 Buffy The Vampire Slayer Vampire Angel and Spike Vinimate Review by Comic Crusaders
Band Candy-The funniest moments! by LemonBanana and others
Buffy vs. Dracula by Mr Trick
Restless by Mr Trick
PODCAST: Angel On Top S2E19 Belonging
PODCAST: Revisiting Sunnydale 110 RVS: Smashed S6 E9
PODCAST: Buffering the Vampire Slayer 5.19: Tough Love
PODCAST: Buffy Boys 077 - Initial Fog (S04E21: Primeval)
PODCAST: Still Pretty 122. Forever (S5.17)
PODCAST: podcast Conversations With Dead People discusses BtVS episode Conversations With Dead People
[Recs]
Giles fic recs, part 1 and part 2, by petzipellepingo
Does anyone have any book recs similar to Buffy? by tableshavetabled with responses by multiple people
[Fandom Discussions]
[How I'd redo Angel the Series season 5] by hannah
Dexter, Buffy, and darkness in fiction by frogfarm
BtVS ask responses by youcantmakeme
[the cutest thing that spike and drusilla ever do] by impalementation
Re: Tara Maclay for the character thing by monstermetaphor
Rupert Giles [strengths and flaws] by monstermetaphor
Re: "Warren was not a virgin. What are your opinions?" by rahirah, slay-gal
Could Buffy, And All Slayers, Be Immortal? by white avenger, AlphaFoxtrot, DeadlyDuo
best character on Angel? hosted by number1angels
Which side do you agree on the Warren issue? by Knicks1986
[Wesley compared to Giles] by avoqado and others
Relatively smaller things that bother you by TypicalPsychology6
Giles never shows up for Xander and Anya's wedding by Inferno2727 and others
Human deaths and Ted as a mirror to Bad Girls by generalkriegswaifu and others
[Tara and Willow helped me realize I was bi. Has anyone else had a similar experience?] by iCeleste and others
Search: Anyone know the Buffy fan episode? by preselectedname0
Are there any good videos that introduce the series for comic readers? by 88_bttf
[Snyder appreciation] by howyouspeak and others
Does anyone else wish one of the Scoobies could've witnessed the end of Cordelia's character arc on Angel? by mmbahcat and others
Gunn and Faith? by The810kid
Charisma turns 50 today! by howyouspeak
Does Buffy: The Vampire Slayer Suck? by Prison Wallets - A Love Story To Movies
[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]
Nicholas Brendon performs "I'll Never Tell" from "Once More, With Feeling"
[BtVS filming locations] by Mondo Loco
Julie Benz and Keith Szarabajka offer personalized shoutout videos
2 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
