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cirqosmos · 1 year ago

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#007. serendipity ▶ koga yudai.

one word prompt.

warning: bittersweet angsty oneshot ig, mentions of depression and anything related to that so please read with discretion.

a/n: not sure how this turn out to be quite lengthy, it should've been a drabble but anyways ��

"SERENDIPITY."

they say, that wonderful or good things happen when you least expected them to. refraining from actively seeking them out leads you to a better solitude, less expectation and a fulfilled life rather than frantically chasing after them. but what is there to life if you will only wait for good things to happen?

isn't it better for you take the lead, take charge of your own life, lift your pair of feet to achieve each imaginary moment you desire?

or was it simply that you couldn't understand the word despite rereading the explanation since a few hours ago?

you couldn't understand. but what right do you even have when you couldn't even push yourself off the chair, to a life you desire? a simple contradiction, or maybe a hypocrite you call yourself.

you knew what was needed to be done, but there remains no energy left in you for you to execute each meaning in this particular word.

"tell me a new word, again?"

the golden rays drenching over the green board, blending with the white dust chalk engraved on them gave you a rather solemn atmosphere. with the shadows of the window frame casting on the walls and desks, you never understood why you found them so terribly saddening to look at.

"serendipity," you sighed, resting the hard edge of your open book on your desk, emitting a hard thud that resonated throughout the empty classroom.

empty, almost — if it wasn't for the hazy figure floating around you, shifting its position by leaning against the wall, placing himself on the window seat—quite a funny scene for you as he didn't need to go that far when the colours of his skin weren't as vibrant as the smile on his face.

"pretty word for the first time! se-ren-di-" his lips formed each corresponding shape that perfectly enunciate each syllable, but the foreign word hasn't been completely integrated into his mind as his tongue fumbles at the end. "truly a pretty word, but there's no point in making it so long and hard to pronounce."

his pretty features contorted into an animated expressions of a thumping soul.

giggling as you shook your head at him, "each word is no accident, at least in my opinion. therefore, do your best to learn it. who knows, god up there would compliment you for your well-earned english skills and probably give you a chance to be reincarnated in another country, perhaps in london?"

well, it didn't matter which country; as long as it was far, far away from this concrete, from this land your feet are bound on for eternity, with the terrible noise of the invisible shackles wrapped around your ankles. or perhaps, it was just your mind fabricating scenarios to appease yourself, like they said.

"eh, who says i want to be reborn in a foreign country?" his eyebrows raised in disbelief, "as if kanji aren't anywhere difficult."

another amusement adorned your face, "i didn't say kanji wasn't difficult."

he shrugged in return, swaying his translucent feet in a hypnotic motion in the empty air.

"a kindergarten teacher, you say?" he snorted, "bet your future little students would cry a river for every word of the day you write on the damn board."

"well, they gotta catch up."

"cruel, i wouldn't want to be your student when i'm reborn someday."

"gotta toughen up the lil kids while early, kei."

this lost soul in his translucent body where the luminous sun rays pierce through like an arrow grew even more vibrant, making each edge of his existence breathe life into them. every now and then, you almost always forget that he was nowhere as alive as his animated expressions.

the reddish rusty pin of muted green cactus with a cartoonish art embedded on his school's jacket, right on his chest—had you initially wondering what leads to it's eventual discoloration when his neatly ironed uniform, white pair of shoes, and a well kept slicked back hair were very much a stark contrast from it.

and now that you eventually come to know about it, you'd rather not say anything.

"yeah, yeah. anyways, what does it even mean?" he gestured his index finger to the written word of 'serendipity' below the list of words you've studied.

"happy accidents." you answered, looking through the big fat dictionary on the right side of your desk to make sure. "luck that takes the form of finding valuable or pleasant things that are not looked for; a lucky stroke, or you could compare it with a four-leaf clover that is difficult to find but when you found it, that's serendipity."

"quite the same as meeting you on the stair that day."

"that," you averted your eyes from the dictionary to the boy, "a happy accident for you?"

"almost." he corrected, a mischievous grin reaching his pale cheeks. you scoffed at him. "watch your steps though, doesn't seem like a nice way to go."

"what if i don't watch my steps next time?" you replied, adding a tone of playfulness. but who were you even fooling?

"you would be an idiot." his pearly white teeth came into view, laughing at your choice of words. "but please, save me the trouble. let's not be born on the same day in my next life." kei shook his head, not taking the idea very well.

"why not?" you asked, curious of the intention behind his words.

"just." his lower lip jutted in a pout, "atleast wait a few years before you follow me, or even better, atleast seventy years or so."

a heavy silence replaces the conversation, followed by the sudden increase of the breeze flowing into the classroom, gracing the curtains through a dance. if the boy had a beating heart at this very moment, then it would've brush against his cheeks.

you tucked your locks beside your ear, pressing the tip of your feet slightly hard on the floor as you lean back against your chair. letting your shoulders droop down, "seventy? that's too far-fetched."

"not as far-fetched as mine, you got a long life ahead of you, why not anticipate the serendipity that will come along with each day?" kei suddenly paused, chuckling at his minor mistake. "oh wait, we shouldn't anticipate it."

"i don't think i can live that long, i do not look forward to anything.." you let out those eight words as murmurs, a sound so low it's impossible to be heard by a normal human.

but to him, he could. your voice were as clear as the blue sky, devoid of the dense clouds and heavy storm.

"is memorising your daily vocabularies, not something to look forward to?"

"they're only meant to keep me alive." you replied nonchalantly.

tap, tap, tap.

the noise emitting from the tip of your pen resonated through the empty room, forming a calming atmosphere for you as it resembled a thumping heart; where the boy on the window seat had none of that, and while you, despite having it—

"you know," kei shifted his position his back rested on the wall slightly, lifting his left leg up in a leisure manner. "my mom used to cook me a meal whenever i'd go for dance practice, but they weren't that healthy enough to keep me fit for it, you see."

you lifted your heavy eyes at him, "so you threw it away?"

"i gave it to someone else." kei corrected, "but it's not like i don't want to eat it, i do want to eat it. just, not yet."

you nodded, humming along. imagining a scenario where you put yourself in his shoes, wondering how it was to roamed around about everywhere as a translucent being, left with remnants of the past, a beating heart, and a starving soul—yet unable to fed oneself for eternal.

"—now i couldn't eat them anymore, all because of a damn reckless driver." kei's pupils remain stuck, and yet still he blinks, even when he knows it's all too useless to even do so. but atleast, it still provide him the comfort that he was once alive, that he had left his footprints somewhere else even if it was bound to covered by almost anything. "it was a happy day, skipping school just to get to the place where the audition was held, that doesn't seem like a happy accident at all, isn't? or maybe it was a conjunction, the word you taught me for the first time!"

you tilted your head at him, a glimpse through your memories where your figure were laying on cold surface of the rooftop, and him sitting beside with you with his legs apart as if he had no care in the world yet with his head looking up above the sky as if he was hoping, wishing, or more specifically—longing for something. a totally weird situation that follows after a tiny 'accident' down the stairs which leads up to this rooftop.

"conjunction, it is the words we used such as "and", "but", and "if". or in other words, where two or more things occured at the same time." you randomly blurted out much to the boy's initial surprise and dumbfounded expression, "this, our situation, you and i, are a conjunction of utter ridiculousness and lack of scientific evidence, also a potential symptom that i might've gone insane and that i could be sent to the nearest mental asylum in this city."

kei's face contorted in utter awkwardness, mind malfunctioning as he tries to understand your barrage of words. "i don't have any heck the slightest idea you're talking about, miss." and with a random afterthought, he added. "i love to dance, though.. hm, the name is kei, by the way. what's yours?"

a ghost asking you for your name sounds too comical, you've always thought that they automatically knew your name through some random articles, newspapers, gossips from your peers, and the myth circulating around the kids in your neighborhood.

"are you.." you frowned, "trying to be friends?"

and he simply nodded, almost exaggeratedly, with the brightest spark imbued in his marble-like eyes.

from then on, with the days following after and so on, it doesn't feel that difficult to breathe, atleast for a tad bit—with this soul of a teenage boy following you around like a lost puppy for a few days, and when he disappears for a short period, you were engulfed with fear—but what were you even fearing about?

was it because you were concerned that he might've disappeared or that a worst case scenario had happened to him? which is quite stupid despite knowing very well what he is, or perhaps you were being selfish—desiring for that poor soul to remain by your side so you won't feel lonely as you used to before?

you didn't know which route to settle your mind on, but everytime he appears back, returning to your side—not too close, but not too far, paired with his lively expressions and bustling vibe, you found your lips drifting onto a vast array of conversations but surprisingly, it was almost about anything but you and him.

as if you and him knew that it's better to not to go past the threshold where there's a big possibility, huge even, that a desire for belonging and attachment might arise. yet for some reason, today feels a bit different.

just a bit.

kei lifted both his hands for you to see, bending the rest of his fingers for his index finger to emerged, forming a 'one'. and he slowly attached them together as he speaks, "happy plus accident."

"finally you got it." you squeeze out a chuckle, although deep inside, a crawling sentiment or rather a heavy lump were emerging to the surface of your relaxed eyebrows and lips.

and despite not asking each other what drove you to do that, and what lead him to the way he is right now, the sign was all too obvious. it was as if both of you knew the answer from the very beginning the day you first met each other.

you knew very well of how he ended up the way he is right now, and that was also on the rooftop where after shortly you taught him the word—you dozed off to sleep, but not before listening to him talking about how he used to live, and how he reached the end of his dreams.

"sing," his eyes squinted at the golden sun, a reaction that simply won't deliver the same effect to him right now but out of habit, he often did so. "and dance."

observing him and his little antics, a desire to ask him a question squeezes its way out of your mouth before you could think.

"don't you hate him?"

kei paused, knowing very well who you meant. "hate who?"

"that person who took your life."

a heavy beat of silence consumed the space again as kei's eyes fluttered rather slowly, "well, having my life wasted away by some crazy bastard that chose to drive despite having his more than enough shots that day." a sigh follows after, a long and deep one. "hate is a pretty weak word. resentment? yeah. at some point, i did."

"then why don't you go possess him or something? perhaps give him a taste of his own karma? i heard those stuffs exist."

"good idea," kei hummed in approval, pressing his chin on his knuckles. "but wouldn't that cost my precious ticket to reincarnation if i became a vengeful spirit, eh?" he shrugged in a playful manner, a mischievous grew on the corners of his lips.

"you got a point.."

"didn't know you had that spirit in you," kei feigns a surprise, eyes widened in shock. "now that i look at it, you could pass off as sadako, especially with that long hair. and instead of coming out of a glitching tv, a big fat book is what you will use to horrify everyone."

another chuckle escapes your lips, "spirit? the thing is, i don't have anyone to that i could fight with, or hate." you slowly lifted your eyes to the blackboard, scanning each stroke of the kanjis. "simply nothing."

"you still have yourself, though." kei shoots a playful wink at you, only to receive an expression of playful disgust spreading over your features, "there's more good things that come along just by being by yourself."

"that sounds depressing."

it did sound very depressing, he agrees and yet he didn't need to verbally tell you that. not when his eyes could count the faint red shade of long, deep, and engraved visible marks on your left hand, peeking slightly beneath the hem of your sleeves as you rested your chin on your palms.

he could only wonder how hollow those carvings could be, and how deep it could've reach inside your soul.

"karma, or serendipity.. we can't control that though." kei said, "atleast that's what i heard from the spirits roaming around, but from what i believe in, atleast we could control how our life goes about, even if.. even if we die someday by others' hands or—"

he caught sight of a yellow balloon drifting up and about the empty air out the window, guided by the breeze of nature to a destination where one might or might not encounter it anymore. a thought run through the back of his mind that a child might've carelessly let go of the tight grip they had on the thread,

careless.

the word is all too familiar for him.

yet another thought surfaces, another different scenario; that someone, probably not a child by form, but by heart; one that longs for something—must have willingly let go of the balloon for a reason no one might ever know if they were unwilling to say, or if anyone even try to ask, or if even they did—words were discarded as mere form of exaggeration.

"by our own." another pause as he looked down at his lap for a brief second before he gathers the silent strength to look into your eyes again. "just memorize each word, each day, till you can form your own very word, okay?"

your eyes widened in inches, taking his words in, nodding your head in silence, as you pursed your lips in to blurt out any potential choke that might surface from your throat or how your insides grew warm for what seems like a long time, or how your stiff and rigid fingers relaxed on its own.

like a frozen statue in time, probably equivalent to the deadly temperature of the ice age but only you as it's tenant, it was short of nothing but quite a journey—one that's terribly bleak, and devoid of colours, by the way. the flickering lamp post from the park gaves you a spooky vibes back when you were a child, yet now, you couldn't but describe the scene as the equivalent of it staying alive.

just a bit more everyday, till it could.

but a common phrase would often drifted off to your ear, that a lamp post's job is basically that, automatically, to stand with absolute strength all while providing light for people.

because that's just how the people you believe in—had always believed about.

multiple beats of crunch resonated throughout the air as you walked across the autumn leaves decorating the entire ground of the school. october sounds like an old man in its muted orange sweater, a cane gripped by his right crumpled hand, and a pumpkin supported by a knotted rope as he walk about the town, and probably visiting the old cemetery where he wondered that he, too, might be buried beneath the same soil someday.

you wonder too.

soon enough, you were greeted with a sight of kei in the hallway, up in the third floor at the school. him, leaning his back against the wall, with his left leg supporting him and his right leg stretched all the way to the floor. his hands in his pockets which made you think if he was trying to warm them.

you almost wanted let out a hiss upon parting your lips due to the chapped and dry skin, yet you held yourself, forcing a small smile to lighten up the mood. "hey."

with him catching the sight of your presence, he fixed his posture with the same smile cutting back to his face. "ayo."

for sure you didn't expect that the next word would lead to that, despite knowing it all to well.

"it's time."

it caught you off guard even though you've prepared for it, repeated it like a broken affirmation in your head, even. despite anticipating it all along those months. a lump formed in your throat, as if the clock had slowed down the speed of this world that contains billions of lives. you've anticipated for this day, and it eventually came. it eventually did.

you wanted to say something, but what is there left to say?

"wanna go for a last walk?"

the hallway to the exit suddenly feels short than it used to be, it felt terribly long a few hours ago, a day ago, and the days that occured before this very day.

"i used to memorise these ridiculously hard dance steps in one go,"

you raised your head to look at his face, an expression you know too well to be emitting a sense of longing, pain, and disappointment.

"—but all it did was make my dance look like a barrage of trash, my dance teacher says." laughing at himself, you wondered if he really used to be like this when he was alive, or was it only a way to keep the remnants of his usual self intact.

you don't know, and you weren't sure if you want to.

"that's cruel."

"that sounds weird coming from you," he chuckled, shaking his head as he spun around to face you, walking backwards. "ah, in my next life, i want to eat more food. if i'm lucky enough to have a mother, that is. and right, i should brush up my skills in looking left and right before crossing the road, heh."

"you will." a curious question suddenly struck your mind after that, "but hey,"

"yeah?"

"how will i find you if you no longer have the same name?"

caught off guard by your question, he froze, blinking quite fast before bursting into an awkward chuckle. "you wanna find me?"

you nodded, feeling quite awkward at your random approach but you brushed it off.

"well, certainly, my name wouldn't be kei in my next life. but who knows what might happen? i don't know who would i be, what kind of person i would be.. i don't even know if i would be born here again."

a question left with no answer, and maybe it was for the best. you let the question drifted into the empty air, letting it sink it nowhere.

"ah!"

you jolted slightly at the unexpected rise of his voice, seeing him lifting his index finger as if a light bulb flickered above his head. "we could decide on a symbol maybe? like a secret code—" leaning in closer, "we could cheat the old man up there."

baffled by his idea, you weren't entirely sure how this was going to work but you nodded anyways, asking him what exactly he meant by a symbol and he replied rather in a tiny voice, "i probably wouldn't remember you, but i heard that souls bear if not all but a little resemblance and memories from their past lives, something that is important enough to them that it sticks no matter what."

you shook your head at him, saying that a symbol decided a few minutes before he departs to a place wherever he needs to reincarnate—wouldn't take an effect. at least that was how you perceive it, sighing as you kicked an empty soda can strewn on the path, momentarily hissing at whoever didn't throw it properly into the trashbin.

"but this is important though, isn't?"

hearing those words from him, you couldn't help the way a sudden warmth engulfed your heart and your eyes shifting from the floor back to him again; those eyes that held firm determination in it, just like you've always seen him ever since. "alright, what's the secret code then?"

"that one," his eyes gestured towards something, down at your side and with confusion, you followed his line of vision—leading to your bag.

"my bag?"

"no you idiot, that sticker."

an old, worn out cropped out sticker of a crown decorated on the side of your dark indigo schoolbag.

"a crown?"

"you sure this would work?" giggling at the idea of an old sticker being the secret code, you couldn't help but find it stupid—adorably stupid, that is. "how does a secret code like this would help me to meet you? what, do you wear a fat ass crown on your round tiny head someday?"

"i don't know, i have no idea." kei shrugged, pouting terribly. he, too, were skeptical of the idea. "but what's the harm in trying?"

"okay," you nodded, satisfied with his answer. "we'll see how this secret code would come to use someday."

straightening the worn out sticker on your palms, a warm smile made its way to your lips and unknowingly to you, you failed to caught the pair of eyes switching to a solemn shade.

"we're here, you don't have to follow after me now."

two pair of eyes; chocolate brown looking into yours as he paused on his tracks, leading you to do the same.

it finally has came to an end, no words exchanged, only a short goodbye paired with a brief nod leaves your lips and his, and as he spun round his heels with his back now facing you; one that you've longed to atleast embrace—you clenched your fist beneath the hem of your sleeves.

"say," kei paused on his tracks, and you—a few metres away from him, lifted your eyes only to be met with his locks almost obscuring his ones as he kept his vision fixated on the floor before eventually lifting it to look into your eyes. "do you still not agree that the day we met was a happy accident?"

your heels spun directly to his direction, epiphany settling itself in the back of your mind as you processed his words. you were unsure whether you were simply imagining that there was a glint of hope imbued within his marble-like eyes, or how his translucent hands fiddled the hems of his black worn out jacket. though, there was one thing you were sure of. "of course, meeting you was a happy accident."

the corners of his lips pulls up in a sheepish grin that pulls the strings in your heart, the locks of his hair swayed gracefully that it had you wanting to touch it. why is it reacting to the breeze? was this nothing but a mere imagination of yours?

"kei."

"hm?"

you clenched your hands as you observed your reflected figure on the glossy tiles, your shadow soaked on the wall on your right side as a result of the illuminated spherical sun set peering from the window on your left side, where the infirmary room was located; it's doors left opened.

"the next time you're reborn again, can you—" you held yourself, refraining from being selfish.

right.

good things happen when you don't actively seek out for them, for they're often more defined as gifts when they do happened.

with your lips parting, replacing it with a smile you've been longing to give to him, genuinely. "the next time we meet again, for the first time, i'll make sure to put on a smile—a genuine one."

kei's lips parted slightly, eyes softening paired with a gentle smile that adorned his lips.

"wanna grab a meal together next time, then?"

taken aback you did at his words, yet you hold yourself back from pouring your scattered thoughts of what ifs, you nodded, as clear as you can for him to get the message that you are more than willing to. devoid of words, yet those subtle gesture was more than enough for him, he was more than satisfied, pressing his lips into the biggest smile before spunning around his heels, walking off to the long hall where on the other side leads to a new life.

a new chance.

with his back facing you, he waves his arms off in long strides. "remember, one word at a time!"

and where beyond that—your first and last serendipity disintegrates into the waterfall of illuminated golden sea, now one of them—will he return as the sunrise for the years to come.

you walked off, but not before taking one last look at the exit. despite saying those words to him, you weren't entirely sure if you even believe at the whole "reincarnation" thing, if hell or heaven truly existed.

your eyes fixated solemnly on the very spot he disappeared into, you found the courage to say these words you weren't so sure would be ever granted yet you could only look forward for that day.

"see you later, kei."

the walk back to the classroom was now hollow than ever, your legs felt like it could snap at any point if it wasn't for your palms supporting you and guiding you up the stairs and across the hall, where you will now return to your seat without the spot on the window seat occupied as it used to.

yet white strokes, vibrant as snow caught your attention from your peripheral vision, and there written a sentence on the blackboard—something you've been longing to hear from someone. a chuckle, followed by a disbelief, and then a choke surfaces from your throat before you burst into tears; one that is devoid of sound as a long time habit as a child, paired with beads of sorrow yet a profound warmth imbued in them trails down your cheeks.

who could've known that a dying and flickering lamp post could only be understood by another one like it, but one that are devoid of light—an artificial light that is, it would be a pure mockery to say that when this one bears the light that surpasses all physical form and shape; a star.

like a star that keeps on burning in flames, etching it's existence above the glittered universe—that would be the perfect way to define him.

and with that, the year 97' will come to an end; autumn leaves will fade back to the original vibrant shades of verdure returning to adorn the land once again, going back and forth in a constant loop but despite that you'll try to memorise each word, one at a time, until you can form your own word.

" 誰もがさまざまな形で苦しみや幸福を経験します。

大丈夫、一日ずつやっていきましょう。

ただ生き続けるだけではありません。ライブ。

あなた自身のための：）"

a word with an alternate definition where you can create your own serendipity first, all while waiting for the rest to come. and even if it didn't come, atleast you still have yourself.

"goodnight for now."

end of footage. . .

#12112023

#&team k #andteam k #koga yudai #andteam oneshots #andteam imagines #andteam x reader #&team x reader #andteam #&team #&team scenarios

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sillyromance · 1 year ago

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🩸👀🤖

Good day/night, Void-Draws!

🩸- reformation:

My attitude to this phenomenon is quite positive. I see reformation vore as a perfect way to relax and to make a "reboot" of all my systems - it's like to get born once again for a prey. Also, a pred doesn't need to concentrate on holding back digestion - everything goes as it should, the pred has a chance to absorb nutrients they require while knowing that their small friend won't feel hurt. Now the prey is painlessly passing away, but tomorrow they will be alive and sound asleep right beside their big pal. Also, it's just quite pleasant for both sides: the pred feels as their stomach softens, gets squishy and round, faintly gurgling as it happily works on a large "meal", and extra heaviness goes away, beings replaced by warmth and faint laziness; the prey enjoys tickling all around their body, fuzzily noticing while dozing off as their solid form melts into hot liquid...

Of course, some might say that acid can burn even when it's followed by reformation. Then I'd say I'm OK with that too. However, in such case, I'm thinking about an accident when no one of the involved haven't known that digestion without death is possible. For example, the prey gives up their life to help the pred survive, or the pred is forced to eat the prey (these two could be caught by their enemies and such procedure would be the most violent way to torture them), both being absolutely sure it's the end; however, next day the prey, safe and sound, wakes up beside their partner. This situation is great for a good angsty scenario with a sweet ending.

👀 - appearance:

Well, personally, I pay very much attention on it. I like male and non-binary preds who are usually humanoids; they are tall (way taller than a prey, sometimes literally giants), slim enough, though kinda bulky (I'm not a fan of skinny preds, but there may be some exceptions) and, definitely, quite strong. Coming to details, I like when a pred has a thick neck - then it's so easy to imagine sliding down their throat - and a wide torso. Also I have understood quite quickly that I have to like a person's face to consider them a pred; so, if describing, I often choose middle-aged, a bit severe/round-faced people/humanoids who have warm wide smile and wise, piercing eyes. Bonus points if a pred has a cool outfit (suits, armour, uniform). The only thing I can't accept in a potential pred is a beard, although I'm OK with moustaches. Combining all mentioned together, I think, the perfect preds for me are: Drift (TF RID), Fritz Howard (The Closer/Major Crimes), Darth Vader (Star Wars) - I know little about the last fictional universe but I have always been interested in one of its main antagonists.

As for preys, I often see them as miniature beings of all genders. Nevertheless, if I was a pred, I would choose a cute tiny elegant girl with big sparkling eyes, health blush on pretty cheeks and a funny pinned-up nose. So, the best prey for me is my own OC - Sacura.

🤖 - robot preds/preys:

Oh! These ones are my beloved! I don't see robots as preys though - well, it can happen if both parties are machines; so, this answer is going to be about robot preds only...

Recently I have discovered transformers; consequently, ma-a-any of them have became my sincere predcrushes. And generally, I'm really really into robotic vore. Robots can control all the processes going in their bodies, so they are perfect for every possible scenarios from safe to fatal; they can have lights built in the walls of their internal organs which can help a prey to relax inside (especially, if the latter is afraid of darkness); robots are surely able to regulate their body temperature and liquids circulation, this way, such preds' stomachs can be as warm and dry as their preys want! Robots are a pure treasure for protective vore enjoyers - their metal armour successfully shield everything behind it including little life curled up inside the tough frame. So, as you can see, there are endless reasons why robots should be used as preds more often!

Moreover... There is something magnificent in a situation when a person discovers soft and vulnerable spots of a creature which, at the first glance, seems to be nothing but roughness itself. This contrast makes my nerves tingle a little because it's way harder to be gentle and careful with your friend when you're made of hard materials.

#soft vore #extreme cuddling #safe vore #ask game #pred #prey

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extreme-neutral · 1 year ago

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Hi! Sidestep ask game is still pinned to your dash, soo... 5, 15, 16 and 29 for Cy pretty please ^^

Yes, the ask wall stays until I finish an art. Meanwhile, it entertains me while I'm at work or traveling, so giant THANKS for asking!

5. What is their zodiac sign?

Virgin Virgo.

I find it hard to imagine Cy just answering this question with some lie/on random instead of just dodging it..

So I'll just go with the legend that someone asked him his zodiac sign and someone else teased with "virgin" and Cy just rolled with it (virgo is Latin for virgin).

I had to conduct full-on research to answer this one, but character-wise this sign fits him extremely well.

15. What is their greatest flaw?

Torn between paranoid and self-destructive, but if we are talking fatal flaws - as in "will kill you" kind - that would be the latter ofc.

His revenge scar from HB combined with self-rivalry is one side of it, sure. He gets... urges. from time to time - really doesn't like himself at all.

The other side is his same old need to have a clear purpose. Once *everything* is done, he sees no future for himself. Fuck's he supposed to do if he survives? Learn to live and love himself? LOL

So, he strives for no life improvement, no bettering of his own head space - which only makes him more unlikely to try to solve this mess that is himself and soooo Ouroboros turns eternally.

All in all he's just tolerating himself for as long as it takes like a soldja.

(imma tell you a secret tho, there is at least one individual who, theoretically, might persuade him - mayhaps unintentionally - to suffer himself indefinitely...)

16. What is their best virtue?

So funny thing. Cy is this kind of a person who would crank any virtue up to 150% where it tips into a flaw, if you know what I mean.

If he's loyal, he might be blindly loyal to wrong people. If he's practical, he'll try to apply practicality to emotions and get confused. If he's empathetic, he'll start overthinking and just make a normal situation weird..

Interestingly enough, I've read a mention of Virgos doing exactly that: too much of good thing thing... :'D

And I'd say Cy's ultimate virtue is... selflessness. Which, yes, seem to result in self-neglect if you overdo it.

And the only thing that might overcome his greatest flaw? You got it - selflessness (as in, he might go for the worst of fates for someone else).

Something about Cyrus and vicious circles, man...

29. Do they flirt often?

Simple answer is: no.

He does use jokes with lewd undertones to startle or embarrass someone on porpoise, but not on people who might turn it into actual flirting. That would be unintentional self-subotage.

Hard to speak for sure about him flirting in a relationship, since I have no data further than one imaginary scenario. Feel like if the other is not prone to flirting he would take it up, but there is no saying if it's gonna be a cheesy one liner or a statement of opinion at any given moment. And if he’ll just fluster himself with it…

#Sorry it took so long to answer #I'm overthinking everything #at least now I can add some sketches to these #this one is for rare steps who are interested #but are stupid shy about it #🫡#fhr #cyrus becker #character study #babbling #my art

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lucysarah-c · 1 year ago

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Hello lovely Lucy 🫶

It's been a while since the last time I stopped by! How are you?

For the writer's asks, I'm curious about 5,8 & 11.

Lots of love 🫶

Val! how have you been? How is your family doing? I hope everyone is alright <3

I'm doing rather good, thank you!

5. Would you ever collab with another writer for a fic?

Yes! Absolutely, I adore brainstorming ideas, so I would love to write something in collaboration with anyone, as long as we are both having fun. I would love it!

8. Which fic or hc do you feel most proud of?

Uhhh may sound silly but... probably "Backfire" my fic about Levi giving a sex education class with Y/N. I was so scared of writing that request but I'm so proud of how it turned out! like it's funny BUT also trully educational! I felt like I personally had the responsability to teach a bit there, you never know when a kid may be reading!

Being able to capture Levi's nature in such a difficult scenario and turn out funny and entretaining was something that made me so proud!

11. Post something from a current wip or concept

Sure! This is a piece from the Levi, Farlan, and Isabel survived and now live on the surface as thugs. I know it doesn't sound like it yet, BUT you know how I am with intros; they are complicated! lol

My idea is that it would be a prologue and three chapters. The title would either be "Suburban Legends," "'‘tis the damn season," or "Wildest Dreams." And because people basically added with capital letters to be tagged on it, eh… I'm tagging them in this small sneak peek. Why? Cause I can lol… @elisaj313-blog @vampirelladarkness @leviackermansgoodgirl @imlevisoneandonlywife @nube55

Eyes carefully followed the darker shiny shade running smoothly over their lips, curls softly bouncing around their face. The matching color of the nails, the shine on their lids, and the forever blushed cheeks. The pinned-up hairs allowed exposed necks and swinging earrings. The white shirts with brand names on the edges and slicked-back hair. White skirts of medical field uniforms to protect from potential stains, yet all matched with high heels that seemed undoubtedly painful. The sweaters with big arms, coats, and matching pinafores underneath. There was a particular air for those enveloped inside the tea shop. It made Levi gulp uneasily as he watched his calloused hands around the expensive porcelain teacup in deep jade green with golden edges. He started to question why he decided to wait there. Everybody was in their own universe, getting ready for the day, and yet he was there, waiting for his end. There's a lingering feeling of unresolved tension when you stay awake all night, as if the new day hasn’t truly begun yet. Lost in the forever time loop of society moving on, but you’re still there. The murmurs between MPs as they secretly passed each other small packages, their expensive clocks. The chair was elegant but made him uneasy; the place overall did, as if he was scared of making the wrong move and screwing up the rest of his life with debt. A stranger in his own walls, the walls he had protected multiple times. He reminded himself that the first picture he got from the surface was, indeed, Mitras, and yet there was no place inside the walls that felt more foreign than that. The thought that calling that place home once felt so distant, belonging to a different life, a past one perhaps. While he had never thought of himself as an appearance man towards women, suddenly the soft, sweet perfumes, painted lips, exposed necks, suspiciously long and dark eyelashes, flowing skirts, and accentuated waists all felt shamefully arousing. His mind tried to recall when was the last time he saw such elegant and polished women. The military had strict appearance rules, and the scouts were surrounded mostly by small country towns, with women busy either with harvest or kids. Reminding himself not to stare, his mind was definitely not its usual lately because on other occasions he wouldn’t have paid it attention.

#Val! moots!#ask game

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bittersweetblasphemy · 2 years ago

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12, 26, 71 -wires

[ask prompt]

12. Ultimate fantasy?

as a sub/bottom: [answered here!]

as a Dom/Top: probably something very similar to the scenario in [Pet]. i've realized recently i kind of have a bit of a dacryphilia kink (im sure that's a shock to anyone who's been keeping up with my content but hey that's news to me), so i'd love a crybaby sub that i can just curl up with and pin to me or the bed while i finger them mercilessly. and not even with the full intent to make them cum, just to get to explore their tight hole(s) as i please, likely frustrating them to no end in the process. maybe i have mercy on them, maybe i don't. :)

26. What’s the most attractive part of the body?

ass

71. Any funny sex stories?

oh definitely the time the hubby and i were fucking in the shower. we were going at it like rabbits when i grabbed onto the shower rail to keep my balance in this itty bitty space. except we live in a shitty apartment, and i should have known better than to expect it to hold my weight. because as it turns out, it was just resting on top of the shower wall and not actually secured in any way.

so i of course fall forward with it, kept from falling face first onto the bathroom floor purely because my husband was already holding me by my hips. and we were shocked for like half a second before we realized what happened, but immediately burst into laughter while he was still balls deep in me and i was still holding onto the stupid shower rod.

and the first thing out of my mouth was "omg i have to tell [best friend]!" which only made my husband laugh harder, because of course that was my first thought.

#madax answers

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desertgourd · 2 years ago

Text

saligiare:

Addhir did not need to hear his master speak first to sense his displeasure, not only with the intruder but with his servant as well. The warmth of the late evening seemed gone. If he had not been so focused on the man beneath him, Addhir would have taken the time to mourn the spilled tea - what a sweet gesture ruined by the thoughtless actions of a creature worth less than a stray dog!

But even though Asmodeus was determined to slip back into his appropriate persona, doing so without proper transition would be less than elegant. Gaara was no utter fool. If Addhir returned to his former self too quickly and without explanation, he would raise more suspicion than if he had dropped the act altogether. Well then. Seems as if your slave had just found himself a new piece of backstory. How delightful.

Keenly aware of the dagger pointed at both of them, Addhir loosened his grip just a little. A knee was placed on the thief’s chest instead, and as Addhir was staring down at the unwanted intruder, that one could not help but find this whole scenario almost painfully funny. A teenage boy with a toothpick knife was trying to scare him while Ashmodai, king of demons, father of beasts, knelt on his chest looking sour as a lemon.

“Aooof!” The bark escaped Hassan before better judgement could get a hold of it. Immediately, he could see on Addhir’s face that it had been a mistake. No hand on his neck or pressure on his lungs could have unsettled him like the silent promise edged into the depth of the demon’s eyes. Don’t. You. Fuck. This. Up. For. Me.

“You mind your manners in front of my master.” The growl coming from Addhir was audible, and no less dog-like. “Answer him.”

Hassan shivered, despite the warm breeze. Still, it would need a very deep grave for him to be able to hide from the demon prince for a while. His eyes did not leave the man above him for a second as he retorted sweetly: “I would, but he didn’t ask me any question.”

“Requesting permission to hurt him, Sire”, Addhir pressed out between clenched jaws. Playing the aggravated wronged one had never been this easy.

"No."

The dagger did not waver even as Gaara's cheeks tinged pink. What sane man at the mercy of a blade would mock his captors? He quelled the urge to call the guards at once. How they would praise him for turning in the long-awaited culprit unaided; perhaps, then, his father would recognize his aptitude for something greater than wasting away behind the palace walls as the royal spare.

Meanwhile, Addhir seemed to vibrate in his skin. The air was choked with tension. The sensuality of this lean, golden man had transformed into something wolfish as he kept the thief pinned with the agility of a warrior. Like a blow to the head, a larger, more ominous picture unfolded before him: He wondered now if the string of thefts had been training grounds for a much more serious crime, a crime requiring the infiltration of the crown; a crime against which a prince would be useless to defend, far from help, armed with only a dagger against two grown men and a deception he had only realized too little and too late.

How they would denigrate him for hosting the man who aided and abetted this criminal, and under their particularly delicate circumstances. Perhaps his father might cast him from these walls once and for all, if Gaara survived that far.

Gaara felt his shell of calm begin to slip and he grasped at it, shrouding himself in it, hammering his galloping heart back into the dirt.

"But you may continue confining him there. While you do so, you can explain to me why the two of you were chatting before I came upon you. And then, perhaps, explain to my father, if your answer is not sufficient enough."

#saligiare #au:slave

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fairyofjaeyun · 3 years ago

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k y g ➳ M.I.L.F. ☆

[18:08] now playing: designer - onlyoneof

[warning] mommy kink, male masturbation, nipple play, cumplay/eating, just sub!yugyeom jerking off to you

2nd person // 0.9k words

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

apartments never really sparked your interest. the idea of being so close to your neighbors gave you anxiety. but after living with you crazy ex-fiance, you needed your independence and the only place that could fit your budget and your standards were nearby apartments.

however, once you moved in you've grown to like the apartments. sure, sometimes you couldn't stand the obnoxious yelling and blaring music your neighbors did but you really did enjoy yourself. and your neighbors enjoyed you too.

somehow, out of all the buildings in the complex, you get put in the one with the wildest and horny boys you've ever met. but you weren't complaining though. now that you were back on the single radar, you were doing far more than you've ever done with your ex. and what's funny is that you have them completely wrapped around your finger.

as you were making your way towards your door, you saw a tall, familiar boy checking his mail. his bright red hair could be seen unmistakenly for miles and damn did his thighs look good in those jeans. your eyes wandered up and down his long legs (and those hips), then traveled to his stomach, wondering if he's still working on those abs. man, does he know how to get you wild up.

"hi, gyeomie~" you finally greeted and he turned to you, giving you a cute smile. "hi, noona. how was your day?" his voice was soft and he ran his hands through his cherry colored hair, which was common while talking to you. he'd also lightly tug on his shirt collar or let his jacket slip down his shoulders to reveal his collarbones, a feature he knew you were fond of. but you pretended to not ever notice. you loved the little shy yet smug look he gave you.

you only hooked up with him once after a night out but that doesn't mean you don't dream about those dancer's hips often. even though he's young and inexperienced, it certainly doesn't show.

"long. I just need to relax and unwind a little," you said suggestively as you leaned against the wall to reveal your cleavage, smirking when you see him struggle to keep his eyes on your face. he lightly tugs his shirt down once he feels the sudden tightness of his jeans, making your eyes trail down to his crotch, he was already somewhat hard. naughty boy. "it's too bad you made plans" your hand slides up his thigh until you meet his boner, it twitches underneath your fingers. "I was hoping for some fun tonight."

yugyeom glanced uneasily at his surroundings, afraid of getting caught. you grin, satisfied with the mess you made of him. while he was struggling to come up with words, he swallowed. his underwear started to feel wet and sticky from how much you were tormenting him. "I-I mean... I could cancel if-" you interrupted. "no, no, no. I'd feel bad. besides, I'm sure momo is dying to see you."

a smirk tugs on your lips at the dumbfounded look on the younger boys face. you pushed yourself off the wall, removing your hands from his erection and coming face to face with him. a soft whimper could be heard as your dark, lustful orbs met with his slightly lighter shades. "by the way, if you wear those jeans and show me those collarbones again, I'll pin you to the wall right then and there so everyone can hear how much of a bitch you are for me."

you give him an innocent smile before smacking his ass and running up the stairs to the second level of the apartment. leaving the poor boy libidinous and desperate for an orgasm.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"fuck~" yugyeom moans into his hand as he thrusts his member into his other hand. trying his best not to wake up his roommate, bambam.

after his encounter with you earlier, he couldn't contain himself as different scenarios played in his head. he just wanted you so bad. the thought of you tugging his cherry strands as you nibbled on his prominent collarbone and stroke his hard, sensitive cock made him pump himself faster.

"oh, mommy." he whined softly. that simple 5 letter word has him quaking. yugyeom shuts his eyes, imagining your wet tongue gliding gradually along his tip, his free hand now rubbing his nipple.

he had to bite his lip to hold back his embarrassingly loud and high-pitched moans, a little whimper and a soft 'mommy' slipping out occasionally.

hot and sticky liquid was now dripping down his hand as he was getting closer to his orgasm. It was pathetic; him fucking himself like this. small beads of sweat dripped down his face making his hair stick to his forehead while his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. chest moving up and down swiftly and erratically, back arched up off the mattress as his fuck himself into his hand. pathetic yet so beautiful.

it was not long until he released onto his chest, jerking off his orgasm. he then sucked the cum off his fingers, moaning as he thought of your praise.

"was I good, mommy?"

#sub!yugyeom #sub!got7 #sub!idol #sub!kpop #dom!reader #dom!fem!reader #got7 smut #yugyeom smut #got7 yugyeom smut #got7 oneshot #yugyeom oneshot

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jesus-in-the-womb · 2 years ago

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Can you write some Steve Harrington fluff where the reader notices how rattled he is after Eddie held a broken bottle to his throat/Upside Down drama is back despite his hiding it so his girlfriend maintains some form physical contact on him afterwards to help him calm down until they can get a quiet moment alone which Steve is forever grateful for?

falling in love with all of you beautiful ppl and these requests <3 (longer than the usual requests!)

Life in Hawkins was difficult, throw a girl with super powers and monsters from a parallel universe into the mix and you get utter chaos. This year was no excuse. It was as if the Mind Flayer were taunting your group, constantly coming back like a zombie dodging headshots.

This is how you found yourself in the backyard shed of the infamous 'Reefer Rick' searching for the even more infamous Eddie Munson. You walked behind the group of people slowly, watching your boyfriend Steve, best friend Robin, and your two favorite dweebs, max and dustin search every nook and cranny of the building.

You spun towards the sound of a large whack, watching your boyfriend slam an oar into a tarp-covered boat.

"What the are you doing?" you all stared at Steve with faces of delierium, Dustin taking the lead of questioning his motives, "What are you doing?" he repeated.

Steve continued to attack the poor tarp, the inanimate object unable to fight back against its abuser, your boyfriend letting out a simple 'he might be in here' to suffice as an answer.

Dustin thought he was being ridiculous, hoping his missing friend wasn't underneath the tarp and receiving the harsh jabs, "So take the tarp off!"

"If you're so brave, you take the tarp off." your boyfriend snapped, shutting the curly-haired boy up as he realized he wouldn't be doing that. He stood in between you and Steve, looking up at your stoic expression and wishing he knew what you were thinking, "Y/N, is your boyfriend always this stupid?"

"Pretty much." you shrugged jokingly, throwing a wink Steves way, who just shook his head with an amused smile.

The three of you tuned into Max and Robin's conversation, listening to them formulate scenarios out loud to each other, "maybe he got spooked and ran." you silently agreed with Robin's theory.

"Don't worry. Steve will get him with his oar." you snorted at Dustin's comment, finding it absolutely hilarious.

"I know you think you're being funny, Henderson, but considering everyone in this room has nearly died a hundred times, personally, I don't find it funny in the slight-" your boyfriend was cut off by someone jumping out from underneath the tarp, everyone yelping in surprise as the figure rushed your boyfriend back into a wall, pinning him to the wood. Your eyes widened, watching the figure slowly morph into Eddie Munson, a shattered beer bottle in his grasp that he threateningly held to Steve's throat. You all began to shout the metalhead's name, Dustin attempting to take lead since he was the only one who knew the man on a personal level.

"Eddie! It's me, it's Dustin. This is Steve. He's not gonna hurt you, right, Steve?" Steve agreed, not being able to move his head as the glass pressed just barely pressed into the skin of his neck. Dustin told Steve to drop the oar, the brunette followed his suggestion and dropped the once weapon to the floor.

The noise of the wooden oar flopping to the floor put the man on edge, his bottle now pressed directly into Steve's jugular, your boyfriend crying out in surprise as best as he could in the position he was in, head thrown back.

"He's cool. He's cool." you panicked as you watched the scene play out in front of you, praying that the curly-haired dork to your left would be able to get the situation under control. If not, you were ready to tackle the metalhead away from your boyfriend, lightly bouncing on your toes with adrenaline.

"What are you doing here," Eddie spoke in a broken tone, his entire form shaking with fear that you felt utterly sorry for.

"We're looking for you," you spoke, hoping he would immediately drop the bottle, Robin added to your sentence, "We're here to help."

"Eddie, these are my friends. You know Robin, from band," the girl imitated playing her trumpet, if this were any other situation, you would've laughed at the pure comedy it played out to be, "This is my friend Max. The one who never wants to play D&D. This is Y/N, the one I told you about, my childhood crush." you waved awkwardly, ignoring the fact that Dustin just admitted to having a crush on you when he was younger, that'd be a conversation for another time, "Eddie, we're on your side, I swear on my mother! Right, guys?" you all rushed out yelps of agreement, vexing Mrs.Henderson's name in hopes to set Steve free.

The man thought for a moment, quickly dropping the bottle and letting Steve go, who exclaimed in surprise and honestly light trauma. You all but ran towards him, nearly flinging his shaken form back into the wall with the force of your hug, burying your face in between the pecks of his chest, deeply inhaling his scent as if it would be the last time you were smelling it. He sighed in relief, still attempting to catch his breath, your comforting hold was slowly grounding him, reeling him back to reality and calming his heartbeat.

Eddie watched with guilt, seeing the tears in your eyes from the fear and pain he'd caused you. The guilt began to eat him away, looking towards the floor ashamed. You'd noticed this, pulling from your boyfriend to send comfort towards the metalhead. Although Steve was enamored by your caring heart and generous soul, he couldn't help but to feel his heartbeat start up again, nerves tugging at his skin and clawing away his sense of safety. He'd never be selfish and force you to hold him, but if he could he would. Steve would never admit it aloud to you, or anyone for that matter, but your company was truly the only thing that made him feel safe, even if he had more strength, more physical power over you, your hands were the strongest things he'd ever felt, pure love and concern falling from them when he needed it most.

"Hey, it's okay Eddie, it's okay." you comforted, grabbing the bottle from his nervous hands, he wasn't sure if he wanted to give it up, but your heartwarming gaze and pure intentions written across your face caused him to cave. His eyes were wide, frantically moving about the room, hoping to find some source of comfort. It was safe to say that you were the therapist of the group, immediately pulling the boy you didn't even know into a bone-crushing bear hug, your arms wrapping around his shaking form in a sense of comfort. He gladly reciprocated, knowing through Dustin's past admissions and rants about you that he could trust you. He breathed shakily into your shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut.

Although Steve had wished you were the one to hold him, he couldn't help but admire your kindness, heart swelling and nearly popping out of his chest at your innocence. You pulled from the boy when you felt his heart calm, moving to stand by your long-term boyfriend as Dustin began to talk calmly to him. He held his hands at his side, wishing he could grab you and run far far away from the hell hole that Hawkins was. You had to have been a mind reader, not looking at him as you pulled his hand into yours, leaning your head against his shoulder and swiping your thumb over his knuckles. His body visibly deflated, the stress and anxiety fleeing his body in search of a new host. His own head dropped down to yours, pressing his lips tightly to the crown of your head, eyes squeezed shut.

"I love you so, so much," he whispered, resting his forehead against your hairline. You smiled, turning your body to hug him, ignoring the conversation happening in front of you to console your 'broken boy'.

"I love you too, you're okay." your voice was just as hushed, holding him tight. He was so grateful to have you in his life, knowing he didn't have to even tell you he wasn't feeling too sharp for you to jump into action. You knew him like the back of your hand, knowing when things became too much for him, your hand always finding its way to his, even before you got together, something Nancy hated to watch when she was previously dating the Harrington boy. She could see how much Steve emotionally depended on you, watched as he would run to you first in the midst of danger, throwing his body in front of yours to block any form of attack from hurting you. She'd crumble as you would verbally protect him from his asshole friends, Tommy and Carol, wishing she could've done the things you'd done so effortlessly. You were meant for each other, that's why it wasn't too hard for the Wheeler girl to let him go, knowing you'd end up saving his heart and pulling him back from the edge.

Steve Harrington couldn't believe how lucky he was, glancing over his favorite girl's shoulder to see his favorite people conversing. Even if this whole "upside down" ordeal was constantly fatal and dangerous, he'd never change a single thing that had happened, chalking it up to enjoying the company you'd all brought him. He loved being the babysitter, the mom. And he most definitely loved calling himself your boyfriend.

I don't feel like editing this or rereading LOL... Let me know what you think! A comment or reblog goes a long way and makes my day through and through. Thank you so much for the love and support!! have a blessed day shawties! <3

#slight angst #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #steve harrington #joe keery #fanfiction #king steve #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve the hair harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #max mayfield

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lokisgoodgirl · 2 years ago

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Hiiiiiiii! So with your permission, I thought I’d send a little alternative to Pinned Down Part One.

It’s a little Drabble, very quickly done, and I wrote this before reading your GLORIOUS Part Two.

Here’s the scenario……

So they’re still on the ground, she’s moaning and he says:

- [ ] “Use your words, darling. Tell me what you want me to do.”

- [ ] And she looks up at him incredulously. “Come on. Really.” She rolls her eyes.

- [ ] “Given your realm is so keen on consent, I simply want to ensure I do not overstep.”

- [ ] “You know, for someone pinning me down with a raging hard on, you’re a real gentleman.”

- [ ] He smirks.

- [ ] “Fine.” She huffs, then her voice takes on a theatrical tone. “Oh, Loki! Prince of Asgard! God of Being Absolutely Insufferable, would you please run your large, thick, currently erect cock over my clothed clitoris for the purposes of sexual stimulation. Would you please gift me, oh wise one!”

- [ ] Loki pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh.

- [ ] “Come on. It wasn’t that funny.”

- [ ] “Oh no, it really is.” He looked like he might explode, attempting to hold back his mirth.

- [ ] “Go on then, Loki.” You attempted to poke him with your pinned-down shoulder. “Keep up your side of the deal.”

- [ ] He leaned down on his elbows and whispered in her ears. “I would love nothing more, little one. But….” He turned her head with a gentle finger, and she looked towards the door. “We have company.”

- [ ] Steve is stood there, arms folded. All the colour drains from her face. “Go on, Steve,” she asks. “How long?”

- [ ] “Since, use your words darling.”

- [ ] She’s too mortified to glare at Loki, and instead clears her throat and starts to apologise.

- [ ] “Look, whatever’s going on here, it’s none of my business. There’s a meeting in 10. You’re both needed.”

- [ ] “My sincere apologies, Captain Rogers. You can count on our attendance. You have my word.” Loki smarmed, a smug grin sealing his words like an ornate wax seal on a letter.

- [ ] Steve starts rambling about a mission and why it’s important, getting increasingly animated to hide his flustered state at the scene in front of him. During which time you’re both looking at Steve, and Loki takes it upon himself to drag his cock over you as requested, and you start biting your lip.

- [ ] Steve becomes stern. He sees exactly what Loki’s doing. “Just be there, okay.”

- [ ] “Yes Captain Rogers,” you and Loki chorus.

- [ ] “Oh and, Loki.” Steve, to your horror, walks towards you both and bends down. “That’s not how we treat a lady here. Take her out to dinner first.” He slaps Loki on the back in a patronising fashion. “Now get up. Because I’m in charge.” Steve walks off.

- [ ] Loki’s mouthing Steve’s words, making faces, rolling his eyes and taking the piss. You laugh, and playfully slap Loki’s chest - he’s moved up onto his hands and knees now, his chest no longer flush with your body.

- [ ] You both stand up. You say, “Let’s go.”

- [ ] Loki spreads his hands out dramatically. “I can hardly very well enter a meeting room like this, can I?”

- [ ] He’s even harder than before.

- [ ] “Maybe I can help you?” You raised your eyebrows and smirked, smug with glee over his predicament. Serves him right!

- [ ] “No, just. Ah. Just give me a moment, alright?” He sighed, closing his eyes and breathing slowly and deliberately.

- [ ] You hooked your finger onto his belt loop and yanked him forward (he wasn’t putting up much of a fight). “I have an idea.” You stepped back until your back was flush with the wall. “It would solve your little problem.”

- [ ] He sighed, exasperated. “We are not fornicating in the common area. Besides, we only have ten minutes.”

- [ ] “We’ll have to be quick, then.”

- [ ] “I’m not some pathetic Midgardian man who fails to hold back his climax - “

- [ ] “Well that may be so, but you got pretty hard pretty fast when I was under you.” You looked down between you.

- [ ] He sneered. “I’m no longer, as you say, hard. So the jest is very much on you.”

- [ ] You pulled him into you, holding him in place with one hand on his lower back. You started to grind into him. He didn’t resist.

- [ ] “R-really, little one. We shouldn’t.”

- [ ] “But you want to.”

- [ ] “Well we wouldn’t be in this ridiculous predicament if it weren’t for your little challenge.” He spat his words. He was annoyed. He wasn’t sure which challenge or jest had merged into the next, but he was fairly certain he was losing.

- [ ] You saw his flushed annoyed expression. Your eyes flashed with mischief. “Yep. It’s all. My. Fault. You must be SO angry with me….. I really deserve to be…..”

- [ ] His nostrils flared and his lips crashed into yours. He held your hands above your head, pinning you to the wall as he angrily fucks you!!!!!

- [ ] Soon after, you make it to the meeting room. But the meeting’s already started.

- [ ] Loki speaks. “Captain Rogers. I must apologise. We were simply - “

- [ ] “Say no more!” Steve holds up his hand comedically. The rest of the team continue to stare at your flushed faces, dishevelled hair, and the crumpled state of the usually pristine Asgardian Prince. “Really.” Steve’s voice was flat now as he pointed to two spare seats at the front, looking back down to his clipboard, suddenly very interested in his reconnaissance notes. “Say no more.”

The fact that you basically created an alternative ending which is equally delicious as the original ending blows my mind in all the good ways 😂🥴🥵

ALSO CAN I SAY I HOWLED AT STEVE

"we take her out to dinner first" /"say no more...."

This is just delightful and I fully encourage alt endings ♥️😂thank you so much for sharing it with me!

#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki smut #loki fanfic #loki fandom #loki fanfiction

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jeongwife · 3 years ago

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scenario, you and chan went to the gym in the middle of the night, then having a short exercise, you became a lil' bit bratty so you thought you can tease chan by taking off your tshirt and leaving you with your sports bra, chan lost focus and fuck you hard, then maybe getting caught after wards lololololol chan ilysm

CHANROT CHANROT CHANROT BRRRRRRRR INCOMING

this is so perfect 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️ like maybe you and chan like going to the gym late at night bc there’s fewer people around and you get to have your privacy. this day you decide to tease chan a bit, so a little bit into your workout you pull off your t-shirt, leaving you in just your sports bra and bicycle shorts that cling to your body like second skin. you pretend not to notice chan staring as you toss the shirt off to the side before resuming your workout, feeling very smug when you hear his frustrated groans as he goes back to what he’s been doing. after a while, you decide to tease him even more by walking over to grab your water bottle, which you strategically put on the ground right in front of his station as you bend over, giving him a full view of your ass in your tight shorts. you hear a groan from behind you, and before you know it you’re being dragged to the showers where chan pins you to the tiled wall of one of the shower stalls.

“think it was funny, didn’t you?” chan growls into your ear before leaning in to suck at that sweet spot just behind your ear. “think it was funny to tease me in the middle of the gym and get me hard, huh?” you let out a whine when he presses his erection against you, feeling the hardness of his cock through his gym shorts. another high-pitched whine escapes you when one of his hands pinches your nipples over your sports bra while the other slips beneath your shorts and panties to tease your wet slit, causing chan to shoot you a glare as he roughly tugs down your shorts. “be fucking quiet, baby. do you want everyone here to hear how much of a slut you’re being right now? you’d like that though, wouldn’t you?”

you’re forced to muffle your moans with the back of your hand as chan pounds into you harshly, your legs wrapped around his waist as your back presses into the cold tiles of the stall. the squelching sounds your soaked pussy makes with every snap of chan’s hips into yours echo through the shower room, yet it only seems to make him go harder as he buries every inch of his length inside you. he’s practically using you like a ragdoll as he fucks out his frustration, chuckling quietly at your sensitive squeals as you cum over and over again, drenching his cock and your inner thighs as he chases his orgasm. “cum one more time for me,” chan demands, one of his hands snaking in between your bodies to rub harsh circles on your swollen clit, his hips stuttering when your walls clamp down around him as you cum yet again. with a few more pumps, you feel hot ropes of cum shoot inside you, causing you to collapse into his chest as you regain your breath.

it’s only when both your breathing evens when you hear a timid knock from outside the shower room, the poor gym employee hastily letting you know that they’re way past closing time GEHDHWHSJ

— ADMIN LILY WHO IS GETTING HORRIBLE CHANROT

#seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #dino smut #chan smut #lee chan smut #dino scenarios #chan scenarios #lee chan scenarios #seventeen dino smut #svt dino smut #seventeen chan smut #svt chan smut #answered!#🌷 answers!

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harfanfare · 4 years ago

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Pomegranate Rule || Idia Shroud x Reader

Obligatory pair work with someone you like very much on a school project and have a chance to fall for each other more? - cliché.

The difference with Idia was that he kidnapped his project partner.

Idia leaned out from behind the column, whispering words of encouragement and summoning up the plan of this meeting he compiled at yesterday’s evening. He practised this conversation all night in front of the mirror, but as soon as he gained confidence, he forgot the text and desperately searched for the next line in the script.

There was a faint blush on his pale cheeks. Not from the sun, not from the fatigue, but nervousness. He hadn't left his room for someone in a long time, and what he was about to do required from him new social skills...

…to ask you to be his project partner, that’s it.

Ortho stood right next to Idia, leaning out from behind his older brother's silhouette and shifting his gaze once at the courtyard, once at him.

Idia cuffed his fingers on the sleeves of the sweatshirt.

Ortho's presence helped him a lot to keep on the promise he made to himself: today he will actually talk to you not on the phone, but face-to-face and suggest that you could do Sir Crewel’s project together.

He knew that you didn’t have a pair, since Grim went off where he could bug Adeuce combo, and even if he didn’t, you two would be counted as one student. But, to at least make some progress, you were picking up leaves you suspected to be just right for the experiment.

With each bush, you were getting closer and closer to the column behind which Idia was hiding, and he knew that if he won’t hurry with his proposal, someone will enter the square, dispatch the last pieces of Idia's courage and disperse you, and take you away.

For example someone like Epel and Jack, who have just entered the courtyard using the entrance on the opposite side.

This coincidence seemed to Idia to be as unfortunate as if all the forces of the world wanted to stop him from what he was planning and yet to validate his theory that it was not worth ever leave his room. On the other hand, since he was already here, and it took him a good few dozen attempts to motivate himself, he could not lose this unstarted game.

Idia, in an act of desperation, rushed towards you, hoping that the first-graders would not notice you.

You both keel over into the bushes as Jack and Epel headed towards you.

"Jack Howl, Epel Felmier!" Ortho greeted them, distracting all possible attention from the bushes that had just been approached by two people, both unaware of what was going on. "How is your project going? What topic did you choose?”

"Ortho-kun! What are you doing here?” Epel replied, coming closer to the young Shroud.

As Ortho distracted them with a conversation, Idia had an intimidating thought: what would happen if they saw your two in the bushes? He was madly blushing at the scenarios that created in his head. He put his hand on your lips—he was afraid that you would say anything that would attract unwanted attention—he slipped with you through the empty corridors to the dorm of Ignihyde.

…He forgot to explain what he was doing, and it likely looked like him committing a crime, but nothing will happen if he explains everything in his room, right...?

You were able to ask Idia what was he doing, once he closed the doors. Till then, on every question you asked he hissed “Sheesh! Do you want us to be found?!” and “P-please! Let us get to headquarters where I will… explain the mission…”.

Soon enough, you found yourself in his room; electronics was the main source of light, and the screens glowed bright blue around them. Although you didn't see any exposed windows or lamps lit to illuminate the room, everything was clearly visible.

There was a mess there, a mixture of the cardboard disorder that prevails after moving a house and the chaos of a man whose constantly working on something, desk always cluttered with papers, pens and documents.

You were sure you would stand on some lost Lego block or pin if you put your foot behind the bed where Idia has set you down.

“So, Idia,” you started. “…What exactly I am doing in your room?”

"Uh, well...” he stuttered, trying to remember the speech from yesterday's practices. “I wish I would know what you're doing here... I mean- I know why I brought you here. I wanted to ask you something. Ask, yes.”

"Ask? About what?” you didn't mention that you can ask outside of your own room, and you wasn’t going to correct that.

Idia tried to explain the whole situation. He skipped the preparation process, his speeches and ideas, he didn’t even mention the project, so all he said was hard-to-understand, abstract justification from the current situation.

He said, at least, that he came up with the idea to take you somewhere further away, where there were no people, as first-grades entered the courtyard.

“So I'm here by accident?" you asked after listening to Idia, slightly cocking your head at the side. “I don't understand…”

“It was an accident. A bit,” he wanted to loudly groan at his helplessness but finally bit his tongue. “I didn't want you here. I mean, I wanted to, but I didn't plan on it. I mean- Aah, it’s so hard to explain!”

You waited in silence, only nodding, letting him take his time.

"Sorry, I just... I feel weird talking to you...” Idia admitted, lowering his head.

The definition of Idia’s "weirdness" was different from yours.

When you heard that he was calling you strange, you felt a pang in your heart. Really? After so many months of acquaintance and quite frequent texting on the phone, when finally there was one of those few moments when you could talk face-to-face, he says it's awkward?

The "weirdness" of that feeling in Idia was something he could not explain easily: the joy of talking to you, anxiety that he would say something wrong, an uncertainty that you would change your mind and stop talking to him, excitement because he knew how interesting person you are and the frustration for every accurate, teasing comment…

"Oh, I see," you tried not to sound depressing. "So let me leave.”

"No, wait, that's not what I meant..!”

Oh, no. Idia’ plan went downhill again.

Idia jumped to a drawer and started looking for something in it, digging through notebooks, cables and lost items.

“...Don't worry, Idia, we can end this conversation on the phone... or something.”

“No, no, no, wait, please!” discreetly took out a round metal box before he dashed to you, blocking the only way out, heavy equipment surrounding you that now seemed to be an impassable wall.

"Uh?"

He took the hard candy from the container he took from the shelf, though he did it so subtly, forcing himself to stare at you and keep your gaze from tearing away from him, so you couldn’t notice candy in his hand.

They were pomegranate drops that had been presented to him as a funny joke from a student who knew that a box, just like its contents, was enchanted by Vil's unique magic: whoever tasted them will not be able to move more than twenty meters from the place the fruit drop was eaten.

Haha, because you know, the members of Ignihyde don't go outside and won't even notice they were cursed.

Idia was sure that even Vil did not know that the candies had fallen into his hands.

"Huh? What are you-“

As soon as you opened your mouth, Idia pressed fruit drop up to your lips and covered them with his hand, in case you tried to spit it out. His movements became very mechanical and heavy, probably most of his muscles were strained. Because of that, you also couldn't push him away.

He only stepped out of your way you once swallowed the candy.

And so you were bound by a spell that you discovered the moment Idia let you towards the door. You stopped more than a meter from them, unable to even grasp the doorknob.

You swung your hand a few times as if not believing that none of your movements was moving you forward.

“Idia. I know we should talk, but by cutting me off from the door?”

Surprise with this solution, Idia's embarrassed smile, dripping sweat from the stress he felt, and a sudden dose of delicious sugar made you burst into laughter.

“This. Is. Great.” You accented each word, becoming more and more amused with each one as if you had just heard the best joke of the era. “Is it the fault of those drops?”

Idia, surprised by your reaction, finally relaxed. Your sudden, inexplicable outburst, hearty laugh calmed him down a lot. He even came to the conclusion that he really likes the way you laugh.

Ortho soon entered the room. You two shortened the story and explained that you probably have to stay here for the night.

"Oh, so nii-san finally asked you to do a project with him?"

“Project...?” you repeated. Then you turned your head to Idia and smirked at him. “So that was what it was for?”

He answered you with a shrug as if last day Idia didn’t have any thoughts screaming “Project!” and that followed by “[Name]!”.

However, Ortho said it for him.

Idia, of course, tried to stop him, but Ortho knew how much time his brother spent just planning to talk to you. A wave of shame flooded Idia as you listened to Ortho's words with interest. And maybe with a pinch of delight spilling over your heart—Idia did so much for you! You could feel the flush on your face and a smile spread across your lips every time you heard about Idia's efforts.

Soon after, after the excitement of this conversation had died down and you thanked Idia for his planning efforts, a package of cookies and biscuits was opened. You couldn't go to the cafeteria to eat anything, and even ordinary snacks from school vending machines taste better in pleasant company, right?

“We haven't had many opportunities to talk like that, have we?"

You took a sip of the warm tea Idia had made—it was incredibly bitter but chilled enough not to burn your tongue—and watched the screen where Idia was working.

He pushed himself away from writing some codes with some slowness, but he didn't look at you.

“You're right...”

After a pause, he started speaking again, this time in a whisper, but you heard him very clearly.

"I've always admired you, [Name]-shi..." he said, pressing his knees against his chest. “Talking to so many different people and solving their problems... I often find it tedious and self-righteous to interfere in the affairs of others, however…. Everything you do always ends well. I-I couldn't do that.”

“I should be saying it!” You said after a moment of silence as if you were processing words you completely didn't suspect him of. “You deal with electronics like a professional. Wait, you are the professional! How many programming languages have you already mastered? How many devices have you already created? You have a wonderful talent and... even your brother little is proof of it.”

You both looked at Ortho connected to specialized equipment. "CHARGING" was displayed on the screen, and by minutes the numbers were close to 100%.

Idia didn't smile at your words—instead he seemed incredibly focused. With each passing second, he had a more and more sincere expression of pleasant frustration, which was also reflected in his long hair behind which he tried to hide his face.

He couldn't even answer and just nodded.

"And... I have to confess to something," you began after another minute of pleasant silence, which you felt sorry to interrupt. "If you previously seemed quite average to me, maybe even a little pale-faced, now I know that you are special."

These words were already his limit. He couldn't take his eyes off you, forgot how to breathe, forgot how to blink, and his lungs refused to cooperate.

His heart crashed for good after your next words.

"So... if you please," you got up and smiled at him. “Idia Shroud, will you do me this honour and become my project partner?”

"The curse already faded.”

You could reach the door and go to the farthest corners of the room. You could leave.

The project has been completed. With the light help of Ortho, who also wanted to contribute to the project, by two in the morning, you finished doing experiments, writing out data, conclusions and completing them with graphic documentation.

And then you played games for the next three hours; each game was digital and very engaging—it wasn't for Ortho, you and Idia wouldn't fall asleep even for a minute. Even when you went to bed—and there was a whole five-minute debate about where you were going to sleep—you talked in whispers about everything and nothing until one of you fell asleep.

Even if the attachment to Vil's magic was gone, you couldn't deny that you became attached to a certain blue-haired boy who followed the last lines of your conclusions with his golden eyes.

It was really fun.

He and Ortho probably would have done this project faster, but the collaboration of the three—you, Ortho and Idia—seemed so pleasant that if he could, he would do it once again. Even if that meant another research about hyper-difficult projects Crewel liked to torture his students with.

"I will come again," you said as suddenly as if you were reading his mind. He flinched at those words, and your tone of voice changed to a more biting tone. “You don't have to kidnap me this time.”

"I d-didn't..." he tried to deny but was stuck on the next words. “...Really? Will you really come here?”

“Your charm bound me more than candy, I can promise you,” you gave him one last smile before you closed the door behind you and rushed through the corridor with a strange, blissful feeling, looking forward to your next project.

So did he.

#I liked writing it a lot hahah #Idia Shroud #Idia Shroud x reader #twst idia #twst idia shroud #twst idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland idia

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plushiesssforcrying · 3 years ago

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Can I ask scenarios with Kenny and fem!reader who doesn't like him but has to see him almost every day because her brother and Karen are in love? And to avoid such tension, Kenny decides to get along with her relationship.

this sounds so funny lmao since anon didn't specify i decided to do this more platonic than romantic

warnings? swearing

art by; mochiiparadise on Tumblr

you desperately want to leave

you are currently sitting on a chair in kenny mccormick's room

the room of someone you hate the most

who is also sitting beside you on his bed

you didn't exactly want to be here but you didn't have a choice since your younger brother basically dragged you here

he was sitting with kenny's sister, karen, playing house with her

every once a while, your brother would excitedly wave at you

you return the wave with a smile each time

While watching your brother play with Karen, Kenny threw you some pick-up lines. Which you only responded with a eyeroll or a grunt.

Kenny sighed tiredly, seeing Karen was too distracted to notice the two at the time. He glanced at you and decided to strike a conversation with you, "So, how was your day?"

"Better if you weren't here." You replied quickly, not sparing a glance at the blond boy. You heard the boy groaned, "Why do you hate me so much?" he whined out.

Crossing your arms, you quietly eyed the playboy magazine pinned on his wall, "Is that a genuine question?"

He followed your gaze and scratched his cheek awkwardly upon realizing, he swiftly take the said magazine and silently placed it under his bed before returning to his spot. "Guess not.."

You glanced at the boy quickly before looking back at your brother and Karen.

"Listen, I don't like you. In fact, I hate you." The boy frowned at your confession and propped his head on his palm, his elbows resting on his knees. "But."

Your sudden addition made the boy perk up on what you have to say. "I'm willing to get along with you."

Kenny smiled as you continue, "Besides," you saw your brother and Karen is now playing superheroes, your brother was a hero and Karen, a damsel in distress. Your brother was trying to pick Karen up bridal style while Karen giggled cutely with a blush covering her features.

"they're fucking adorable."

you and kenny tried hanging out in the later week

you set up the rules that he can't, under any circumstances, flirt with you or he'll get a book to the head

which he immediately commented that you were scared of falling for him

that's a book to the head.

after a while, you two actually got along nicely

kenny was pretty nice without his flirty remarks

you still don't like that the boy was a terrible perv but you somewhat can tolerate it now

#female reader #south park #south park x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick #karen mccormick #x reader #anon ask #cw;#cw; swearing

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baepsaesbae · 3 years ago

Text

Domestic Bliss: Jeon Jungkook

Pairing— Jeon Jungkook x reader

Genre— SMUT, Pwp, Fluff, domestic au

Warnings— Oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, facefucking, mild derogatory language, some choking

Word Count— ~1k

Summary— Lazy afternoons can sometimes turn into something more hands on

A/n- Hello! Here’s another domestic scenario to celebrate our golden maknae’s birthday~ hope you guys enjoy :’)

Lazy weekend afternoons are what you and your boyfriend live for. The weekdays were always so hectic due to classes and work.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, there was a pleasant breeze, and the weather was practically perfect. Of course, neither of you would know this since you were both still in bed at 3pm in the afternoon.

After lazily whipping up a quick breakfast, you both retreated back to the coziness of the bed. You convinced Jungkook to watch Strong Woman Bong-soon with you, and were pleasantly surprised when he became just as invested in it as you were.

Taking a break between episodes, you and Jungkook started to play mobile games on your phones. Jungkook was sitting upright, with his back pressed against the wall. When watching the show, you snuggled up beside him.

However, now you wanted to be a little more comfortable as you played your game. You sank down to sprawl yourself onto the bed, with the back of your head resting in Jungkook’s lap. Seeing you act this way always made Jungkook smile. He loved the way you were always so physically affectionate. Sometimes when studying, you’d wrap your pinky around his, just because you want to touch him in some way.

Jungkook stroked your cheek fondly before his attention returned to his game. You cutely blew him a kiss before returning to your game in which you get to charm multiple men but ultimately end up with one.

‘Why do you play those games when I’m right here?’ Jungkook would pout whenever he saw you playing them.

‘Cuz they pay more attention to me than you do,’ you’d retort, sticking your tongue out at him.

Today, however, Jungkook was too engrossed in his game to whine at you. You didn’t mind, as you too, were pretty focused on your game.

You tried to get more comfortable, so you kept moving your head. You couldn’t find the spot you normally rest on. You began absentmindedly rubbing your head back and forth against him.

“___. Can you stop?” Jungkook asked with an annoyed tone.

“Then can you move or something? I’m not comfortable,” you replied with an equally as annoyed tone.

“Maybe that’s because you’re on my dick,” Jungkook put his phone down.

“Oh…” you started to feel him harden under you. A wicked smile crept on your face.

“So would it be bad...if I did...this?!?” you yelled as you vigorously shook your head against his groin.

“___! Stop! That doesn’t even feel good!” Jungkook cried out.

You immediately stopped, eyes widened. You didn’t mean to hurt him. Before you could apologize, Jungkook expertly pushed you off his lap and quickly got on top of you. He was straddling your chest, and pinned your arms down so you couldn’t move.

“You think that was funny?” he asked.

You couldn’t answer him. Your eyes had wandered down to see a huge bulge in his shorts. Just the sight of it turned you on. You began to squirm under him. That only made him tighten his grip on you.

“Look what you did to me. I just wanted to play my game. But now I’m stuck with this,” Jungkook said, feigning aggravation.

“I’m sorry baby. You think I can help you with that?” you batted your eyes at him.

“Oh, I don’t think so. I know so,” Jungkook growled before tugging off his clothes, allowing his erection to spring free.

He scooted up to where he was now practically straddling your shoulders, his dick just a few inches away from your mouth.

“Can I facefuck you, darling?” Jungkook asked tenderly. Even while he was extremely domineering, he always asked for your permission before he did anything. It was both sexy and sweet as it showed that he was a top notch gentleman.

“Of course you can,” you replied, already opening your mouth for him.

He immediately slid into your mouth, not giving you proper time to adjust. He mercilessly drilled into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat each time. Tears began to well in your eyes as you gagged around his cock.

Jungkook would occasionally indulge himself by leaving his dick fully shoved down your throat for a couple seconds while he feels you choke on him. He loved when you made eye contact in such a compromising position. Seeing his sweet angel do such dirty deeds was nothing short of boner inducing.

Pulling out of your mouth, he then shuffled down to place himself between your thighs. He tore off your shorts and panties to reveal that you were already extremely wet. He ran a finger down your slick folds, causing you to shiver.

“Please don’t tease me, Jungkook,” you whined.

“What do you want then, darling?” he asked, slipping a finger into you.

“I-oh god. Jungkook I need you. Need you inside,” you panted as added another finger.

“I am inside. Is this not what you want?” Jungkook kept toying with you.

“FUCK Jungkook. Just fuck me already,” you cried out.

Jungkook smirked and leaned down to kiss you passionately. His tongue lightly flicked at your lips, asking for permission to enter. You obliged, and the kiss deepened. You were so caught up in the kiss that you were taken aback when he slid his dick inside of you.

You gasped at the sudden stretch, but Jungkook didn’t let up. The faster and deeper he got, the wetter you became. His hand reached up to firmly grip your neck. You were so lost in ecstasy that you didn’t notice the drool running down your chin.

“You’re such a fucking slut. My little fucking whore,” Jungkook cooed, his breath becoming ragged.

It didn’t take long after that before you both simultaneously reached your climax. After cleaning you up, you curled up against Jungkook’s chest. You were about to drift off to sleep when you heard the familiar fighting noises of his game.

“Bored already?” you gave him puppy dog eyes.

“Not bored, I just wanted to play one game before we nap together,” Jungkook answered without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Mmm okay. I’ll get a head start then,” you say, closing your eyes again.

“Sleep well, princess,” Jungkook played with your hair until you officially dozed off.

#bts smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts fluff #btscreatorscorner #bangtanarmynet #ksmutclub #btswritingcafe #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook fanfic

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wistfulcynic · 3 years ago

Text

The Outlaw Killian Jones (and the legend Emma Swan)

SUMMARY: Emma Swan is a schoolteacher, respectable and respected in the small town of Haven, Wyoming. She does her job and minds her business, but she has a secret. One that brings meaning to her dull life and excitement to her restless soul. One that she knows could end at any moment.

Killian Jones is a man with a powerful enemy and nothing to lose. He’s prepared to sacrifice every bit of that nothing for the sake of his revenge.

Or, at least, he was.

I am THRILLED to be here, kicking off the @cshistfic Historical Fics event! I’ve always loved reading romances set in the past and Westerns are a long-time favourite. Given how deeply entrenched the Western genre is in American culture, it’s funny to think about how a) most of it was made up for dime novels and, later, radio and television shows and movies, and b) the actual historical period that we call the Old West only lasted roughly thirty years—from the post-Civil War westward expansion under the Homestead Act to around the turn of the 20th century. This fic is set right around the end of that time—late 1890s to early 1900s—in the waning moments of the open range and the “lawless” frontier and the start of the modern era with its trains and barbed wire and cars and world wars. I’ve tried to capture a bit of that sense of transition in the story, mostly with the way it ends.

Huge thanks to @shireness-says for coming up with and running this event, and to @thisonesatellite for Just Being Her.

Words: 4.9k Rating: T Tags: Western AU, historical, outlaw Killian, schoolteacher Emma, all the historical detail, I did so much research for this

on AO3

The Outlaw Killian Jones (and the legend Emma Swan):

The hour was late, afternoon edging into evening in the town of Haven, Wyoming. ‘Town’ as a designation flattered it, this tiny settlement tucked back against craggy and striated formations of rock and nestled amongst ragged brush, being, as it was, scarcely more than a handful of rough-hewn cabins, a church, a general store, a blacksmith and livery stable, a saloon with its attendant whorehouse, and a school.

The store and the smithy did the town’s most active business; unsurprisingly, seeing as they were the only examples of either within the radius of a good fifty miles. The residents—those who lived within the town’s scant limits—were certainly insufficient in their numbers to support either one, but the owners of those ranches that lay outside the town, they and their ranch hands, their wives, and their daughters, frequented both with pleasing regularity.

The general store doubled, as such establishments generally did, as a post office, in which capacity it served as the sole tenuous link between this stark western land and the fashionable cities of the east. The Sears and Roebuck catalogue and that of Montgomery Ward, both prominently displayed beside the till, were tattered and well-thumbed, and the monthly mail delivery never came without piles of brown-wrapped parcels containing the latest in fashion and technology from the wider world—hints at the wonders promised by the new century.

Very little of this prosperity touched the actual residents of Haven. The lives they lived were hard ones, scratched from unforgiving soil, but they were good folk, honest and hard-working. They lived simply and piously and for the most part happily. They tended their gardens and their livestock, read their Bibles, loved their children, and whenever possible sent those children to school.

The Haven school, a single room with two windows, one on either side, and a disproportionate bell-tower on the roof—both this tower and the bell it contained were gifts from a local rancher, who considered them a better use of his money than blackboards or books—was located well away from the town’s main street. It had no fireplace, only a tiny, smoky, potbellied stove, and in the warmer months no breeze blew through the unglazed windows. The pupils sat on simple benches and copied their lessons onto slates that sold at the general store for rather more than their parents could comfortably afford; lessons their teacher laid out for them on a thickly-whitewashed wall with a piece of charcoal, the dust of which stained her fingers and her clothing, and embedded itself beneath her nails so deeply there were times she felt she’d never be free of it.

This teacher’s name, the one she used, was Miss Emma Swan. A solitary and self-contained woman of about twenty-six, far too pretty for a schoolteacher most said, and if pressed these same would likely agree that teaching was not what folks might refer to as her calling. Though none could deny that she did her best and was kind to the children—a thing not always guaranteed from schoolmarms—she exuded such a restless air, an impatience with the tedium of her job and the pace of life in Haven which she did not trouble to conceal, that it was a subject of great curiosity amongst the residents why she continued to stay there.

“I have my reasons,” she would say, whenever anyone dared to broach the subject, “and those reasons are my own.” There it was and there it would remain as far as Emma was concerned, and as the townsfolk knew her to be a courteous woman but one who never minced her words when riled, they declined to press the issue.

By the time Miss Emma Swan had finished up in the schoolroom on this particular late afternoon, the floor swept and the board cleaned and lessons all prepared for the following day, the sun was already slipping behind the craggy rocks at her back and casting upon the town a peculiar sort of distended twilight—shrouded in shadows beneath a glaring blue sky. As she made her way the short distance between the schoolhouse and her own cabin—or rather, the schoolteacher’s cabin, perhaps the most compelling perk of her job—a brisk breeze ruffled the hem of her skirt and the few flyaway hairs that had escaped her tidy Gibson bun. The night would likely be another chilly one, and Emma wondered absently if she had enough wood left to leave the fire high for an extra hour or two or if she should resign herself now to another cold, dark evening spent alone.

The cabin where she lived, she and sixty years of schoolteachers before her, was small and rough like most in Haven and comprised only two rooms: a small bedroom to the rear and a larger space at the front used equally for sitting, cooking, and dining. In this front room was both a fireplace and stove, the latter surprisingly modern and another gift from a different rancher, to the previous teacher. Near this stove sat a small wooden table and two matching chairs; a soft and generous armchair had pride of place before the fire.

The bedroom was by far Emma’s preferred room. The walls in it were painted, in a pale and soothing blue, and on one of them a charming watercolour of forget-me-nots was hung. There was a white wardrobe with a mirrored door, a washstand and a vanity table, and a large bed with a sturdy iron frame. The curtains on the single window were of dotted swiss that Emma had sewn herself, and in the morning when she opened them she was greeted by the colours of the dawn.

Emma removed her buttoned boots the moment she was through the door; they pinched her toes and she disliked wearing them indoors. She replaced them with a well-worn pair of carpet slippers then headed for the bedroom, there to change out of her school clothes and into the more comfortable, loose wrap dress she preferred at home. When she entered the room she had already undone most of the buttons on her high-collared blouse and so made straight for the wardrobe, without so much as a glance at the bed.

The mirror on the wardrobe door as it swung open flashed the brief reflection of a face, just as Emma heard the sound of a chair leg scrape against the bare wood floor. She gasped and spun around, eyes wide and one hand pressed against her chest.

There could be no question that the man currently in occupation of her vanity chair, sprawled in it with an air as casual as it was deceptive, was one who had followed quite a different path of life than that afforded to the residents of Haven. His untidy hair and the thick scruff on his jaw might not be especially remarkable out in this still-wild corner of Wyoming, but the narrow cut of his coat and the embroidery on the waistcoat beneath it, the silver chain of his pocket-watch and the ostentatious knot of his tie marked him as a man who knew his way around a gambling table for both good or ill and could likely acquit himself equally well in both scenarios. A man who dealt with the hardships of life by shooting rather than working his way out of them—as the gleaming six-shooter currently pointed straight at Emma would most certainly attest.

Emma forced herself to breathe, slow and steady. Her heart was pounding. The man greeted her with a brusque nod, and cocked the hammer on his revolver.

“Don’t let me interrupt you, love,” he drawled, in an accent that suited this town less even than his clothes or his gun. “By all means, keep going.”

Emma swallowed hard and with trembling fingers undid the remainder of her buttons. Her blouse hung open to reveal the hooks of the corset underneath.

The man gave his gun a menacing wave. “All the way now, there’s a good lass.”

She shrugged off the blouse and let it fall to the floor.

“And the skirt.”

She unhooked her grey wool skirt and released it to pool around her ankles.

His voice rasped. “Take down your hair.”

Emma shivered.

Three pins and two combs held her hair in place. She removed them, dropped them into the pile of clothing at her feet; the bun tumbled down and over her shoulder.

“Shake your head.”

She did, vigorously. The bun unraveled further and strands of silky blonde fell across her face.

He swallowed audibly. “Now the rest.”

Emma hesitated, fingers hovering over the hooks on her corset. She wore nothing beneath it but a combination made of thin cotton lawn.

The man raised his gun and growled, “All of it.”

She tossed her head back, jutted her chin out high in defiance. Her belly churned with a dark thrill of anticipation as she unhooked the corset and flung it away. He chuckled, low and rough. Emma fumbled with the buttons on her combination as he uncocked his gun and set it aside, then undid the belt designed to hold it. His eyes locked with hers as he stood, pale blue and profoundly tired, eyes that had seen far too much.

She finished with the buttons but left the combination on, parted to reveal a thin strip of pale skin. Her heart thundered as he approached, her breaths short and heaving. He swaggered up and stopped in front of her, close enough that she could smell the dust and sweat on him, so close she had to tilt her head again to see his face. His hand slipped beneath her shift to curl around her waist, fingers rough on her soft skin.

“I—” Emma gasped as he pulled her closer, flush against him. His voice was a rumbling growl in her ear.

“You what, love?”

“I was expecting you yesterday!” she snapped, and then she kissed him.

“Gold is dead.”

Emma’s head shot up from where it had been resting on the bare and hairy chest of Killian Jones. The most notorious outlaw in three states, or so the Wanted posters would have folks believe. Train robber, bank robber, high-stakes gambler—but only the trains and banks and gambling dens controlled by one particular man. A man in whose side Killian Jones had been an exceptionally troublesome thorn for near to six years. A man whose wife Jones stood accused of murdering. A man who was, it seemed, now dead himself.

Emma stared down at his face, at the sharp definition of his cheekbones and lines of strain around his eyes. Such heavy burdens he’d been carrying for as long as she’d known him, but now, despite the exhaustion writ plain on his face he seemed lighter. Relieved, in some intangible way.

“He is?” she gasped.

“Aye.” Killian nodded, grimly satisfied. “Shot him right through the place where his heart should be. That’s why I was late.”

“Oh, Killian.” It wouldn’t do to feel happy about a murder, even that of a wicked man, but Emma found that she too was grimly satisfied. “You did it.”

“Aye, it’s done. And now I have a price on my head so high I’d turn myself in if I could, and special team of bounty hunters hired by Gold’s son to bring me to him, dead or alive.”

“Oh.” Her fingers flexed on his chest and his tightened where they curled around her hip. “What—what will you do?”

“Leave the country.” He spoke as though the answer were obvious, and Emma supposed it was. “I’ve no choice.”

“Will you go back to England?”

“No. There’s nothing left for me there.” He paused and his hand slid up her back to tangle absently in her hair. “I was thinking South America. Argentina.”

“Argentina?”

“Aye. Land’s selling down there for cheap and I’ve enough saved to buy myself a ranch. I’ve never tried ranching before so it’ll probably be an utter failure, but the idea’s crawled into my head and made itself a nest there, so I think that’s what I’ll do.”

Emma slipped from his arms and out of bed. She could feel his eyes on her as she took her house dress from the wardrobe and wrapped it around herself, as she tied it at her waist with jerky movements.

“You must be hungry,” she said.

“I could eat.”

“Stew?”

“Perfect.”

In the front room Emma piled wood on the embers in her stove and coaxed a fire to life beneath the pot of stew she’d left on the hob. She swept the ashes from the fireplace, arranged the logs and the kindling, then struck a flint to light it. She could hear Killian in the bedroom washing and dressing in the spare clothes she kept on hand for him, and by the time she sensed his presence behind her the larger logs were catching nicely and the hearty aroma of stew had begun to waft in from the stove.

“Shouldn’t be too long before it’s ready,” she told him without turning around. “There’s cornbread too. It’s a few days old, but—”

“Emma.”

“—it should still be good if you dunk it in the stew.”

“Emma, love.” Killian’s voice was soft, full of the tenderness he showed only to her. “Talk to me.”

“About what?”

It wasn’t as though she hadn’t known this day would come, this one or another very like it. She understood the dangers of the life he lived, out on the edges of society, pursued by an influential man with a terrible grudge, and she’d done all she could to make her peace with it. Killian could have died any number of times in the three years of their acquaintance; she had always been aware that every time she bid him farewell might be the last.

And now she knew for certain that it would be. Nothing had changed.

She heard him pull out one of the dining chairs and sit down in it, and though she kept her back to him she he knew he would be leaning his elbow on the table and running a hand over his face. She could picture the gesture in her mind’s eye with perfect clarity, so often had she seen him do it before, and her heart hurt because she knew he only did this when he was deeply troubled.

“Emma, you know—you know why I spent so long trying to kill Gold,” he said roughly.

“For Milah.” Her voice hardly broke on the name. “To avenge her.”

“Yes. That bastard hunted her like an animal, shot her right in front of me then framed me for the crime, and all because she couldn’t bear to spend another moment as his wife. He took her life rather than allow her to live it free from him, because he couldn’t countenance her finding happiness with another man. And I swore to her as she lay dying that I would make him pay for that.”

“Because you love her.”

“I did.” In the silence of the cabin, she could hear the rasp of his scruff against his palm. “I did.”

Emma had been watching the fire, now dancing merrily in the hearth, and it took a beat or two for his words to register. When they did her heart gave a shuddering thump and she spun round to gape at him. “Did?” she repeated.

Killian’s lip quirked and humour flared briefly in his eyes before they became solemn again, and heartrendingly soft. “It’s a funny thing, revenge,” he remarked. “It begins as a simple quest for justice but so easily descends into obsession—almost before a man knows what’s come over him, it’s all he’s got left to live for. That’s how it was for me, for years. Until…”

He trailed off and Emma found she was holding her breath. “Until?” she prompted.

He looked up at her. “Until I met you.”

She inhaled sharply as their eyes met, his own warm and such a brilliant blue, full of an emotion to which she didn’t dare give a name. “I kept after Gold because of my vow to Milah, yes, but also because I had to, because it was him or me. His life or mine. When that bullet pierced his chest and I saw him fall, I realised that it wasn’t about Milah for me anymore and it hadn’t been, not for a long time. I was fighting for my life, my right to have it and to live it in peace. That’s all I want, just peace and a simple life. And you.”

“Me?” gasped Emma, blankly and ungrammatically, as she attempted to grasp what he was saying.

Amusement coloured the tenderness on his face, alongside a hint of exasperation. “Don’t you know, Emma?” he asked with a shake of his head. “Why do you think I kept coming back here?”

She offered a weak smile and an abashed shrug. “My cornbread?” she ventured, and he laughed.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, darling, but your cornbread is dry. Try again.”

Emma elected to ignore this ungentlemanly slur on her culinary skills. “Well… I suppose the town is quite secluded, good for hiding out,” she observed.

“It is that. But that isn’t the reason, love.”

“Isn’t it?”

“You know it isn’t.” Killian stood and moved towards her, slowly as if she were a baby faun he was apt to startle, or possibly a sleeping mountain lion. “It’s you, Emma Swan,” he said softly. “You are what I will always come back for. You are the reason my soul is hale and unconsumed by hatred. Because it wasn’t revenge I was after, in the end. It was the future I wanted with you.”

Tears clogged Emma’s throat and pressed insistently behind her eyes. “Killian,” she choked, “I—”

“Shh.” He closed what small distance remained between them and folded her in an embrace to which she clung tightly, face pressed against his shoulder so the soft flannel of his shirt might absorb her tears. “Emma, I know I have next to nothing to offer you.” Killian stroked her hair soothingly as he spoke. “A tenuous existence in an unfamiliar country, backbreaking work that likely won’t pay off, a struggle for everything we have. I shouldn’t ask this of you. I should have the decency to walk away and let you find happiness with a better man than me.” She could hear tears in his voice now, and when she looked up she saw them glistening in his eyes. “But I won’t,” he continued gruffly. “I can’t, because I am a selfish bastard and I love you. I love you so much, Emma.” His voice broke. “So much. And if you could see your way clear to coming to Argentina with me, I would spend every day I have left on this earth working to make you happy.”

A rush of joy filled Emma Swan then, joy such as she had never known before. Her tears fell freely and unheeded as she tightened her hold on the man she loved and pressed her forehead to his own. In that stance they remained for some considerable time, until Emma became aware that the silence had drawn out far too long and she must speak. There were words he needed to hear from her, crucial words, and yet Miss Emma Swan, despite being quite a competent schoolteacher in all respects including her vocabulary, had always found words failed her when in the grip of strong emotion.

“Did I ever tell you I grew up on a ranch?” she blurted, then shook her head. That wasn’t what she’d wished to say.

Killian’s brow wrinkled. “You’ve mentioned it.”

“My daddy’s place out near Casper,” Emma pressed on. “A thousand acres of cattle, mostly, and some horses.”

“It sounds nice.”

“It was.” She snuffled and shifted until her head was resting on his shoulder and she felt cradled in his arms. This wasn’t the speech she’d planned but now she found herself determined to give it. “I was his only child, his only family after my mama died, and he reared me all my life to take over from him,” she continued. “But then when I was nineteen he got married again, and had a son. And suddenly ranching was ‘no job for a woman,’ or so he said, and I should look into teaching instead. Or better still get married and become some man’s pretty possession. Preferably the son of a neighbouring rancher, ‘for the future of our family’s land and legacy’.” She paused, remembering, and rubbed her cheek against his shirt. “I told him to go fuck himself.”

Killian’s laugh rumbled through the both of them. “That’s my tough lass,” he said, with a pride in his voice that warmed her, and made her desperate.

“But you do know what I’m saying, don’t you Killian?” she persisted. “You hear what I’m telling you?”

“What I hear is that in addition to being beautiful and brilliant and tough as old boots, you also know how to run a ranch. Which would be bloody useful I must admit, as I haven’t got the first faint clue where to start. Is that what you wanted me to understand?”

She nodded in relief. “That’s it.”

He brushed the hair back from her face with fingers gentle as the wing of a butterfly. “And is that... all you have to say?”

She felt caught in his eyes, and like to drown in them. “There may be one more thing.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It’s that I—I—” Emma drew a steadying breath. “I love you too, Killian, and of course I’ll go to Argentina with you.” A smile broke across his face, that rare and brilliant smile of his that set her heart to soaring and broke the dam that held her words in check. “I’d go anywhere with you,” she declared, laughing as he squeezed her tight. “To the moon. To hell itself, and then back out again.”

“Let’s hope that won’t be necessary.”

He leaned down to her and she swayed up to him and their lips met in a kiss that sang of love and of hope and of a most solemn promise, if something of a dramatic one. He dipped her back and kissed her until she was dizzy and overcome with laughter, and then swung her up again and into a dance.

Emma put her head on his shoulder and leaned into him as they danced to music they alone could hear, all around the cabin with the aroma of stew in the air and hope for the future in their hearts.

The disappearance of Miss Emma Swan, schoolteacher and respected resident, shook the town of Haven, Wyoming as nothing had before. Even the escape and subsequent stampede down Main Street of Mr Murchison’s pigs had caused less consternation, since, as the residents all agreed, for that at least there was an explanation. A rusty gate hinge, investigation later revealed, had been the culprit behind the Spectacular Pig Hullabaloo of 1893, whereas Miss Swan had simply vanished, with no explanation given or obvious method of egress. She owned no horse and had not boarded the stage; no one matching her description had been observed at the train station in Casper or anywhere else that a woman alone on foot might reasonably have been expected to turn up. She had taken nothing with her save some clothes and a few books and left nothing behind but a brief letter hastily scrawled on a scrap of paper—her resignation from her position as schoolteacher effective immediately, and a recommendation for her replacement.

Haven residents were thoroughly baffled, and for many months afterwards the Fantastical Vanishing of Miss Emma Swan was the number one topic of conversation amongst them. Theories were dismantled nearly as quickly as they had been constructed, replaced by newer and ever more fanciful speculations, and each resident had his or her own pet notion as to how and why the trick was done. Rarely had they felt so stimulated or enjoyed themselves so thoroughly, however time, as it inevitably does, soon began quite noticeably to pass, and the town’s attention moved on to other happenings. For although new events in such a quiet place may never again be as deliciously sensational as the mystery of the vanished schoolmarm, they do possess the not insignificant advantage of being new.

And thus Emma Swan passed into Haven legend.

Some years later, on the eve of her wedding, Miss Mary Margaret Blanchard—soon to be Mrs David Nolan—sat at the very table where Miss Swan’s letter had been left and composed a letter of her own, to an old friend she’d first met at the State Normal School of Colorado. In her letter Miss Blanchard informed her friend of the imminent blessed day and thanked her for the recommendation that had not only brought Miss Blanchard many years of enjoyable work as schoolteacher to Haven’s children but also led, in that roundabout way life sometimes takes, to her current state of blissful happiness.

This letter travelled by mail coach from the Haven general store—where Miss Blanchard posted it to the care of a P.O. Box in San Francisco—to the main post office in Casper. From there it went via train to Cheyenne, where it was loaded onto the mail car of the Union Pacific Railway and thence made its journey to the west coast. In San Francisco its fortunes underwent a curious change, for it was redirected by a clerk there, in accordance with instructions, and placed back on the Union Pacific, headed this time for Denver. From Denver it voyaged onwards to Kansas City, then Chicago, and finally to New York, where it abandoned train travel forever in favour of a steam ship bound for Buenos Aires.

Upon arrival at port it was placed in the charge of a courier who carried it along with a scant handful of others over the rough roads of the Argentinian coast to Puerto Santa Cruz and then inland, where it finally, many months after its departure, came to rest at a tiny, dusty outpost in southern Patagonia. And it was from this inauspicious locale that the letter was collected, at long last, by its intended recipient—a woman none of the residents of Haven nor indeed the erstwhile Miss Blanchard herself would be likely to recognise as Emma Swan.

The clothes she wore were utilitarian in design and plain in colour, liberally coated in fine brown dust. Her pale hair hung loose and wavy down her back, and her face beneath her wide-brimmed hat was tanned and marked around the eyes with the fine lines characteristic of those who spend a good deal of time squinting into bright sunlight. But these were superficial changes. The woman who collected the well-travelled letter and rode with it back to her ranch, who sat at the table in her kitchen and read it with a wide smile and sincere pleasure at the news from her friend—this woman was happy, as Emma Swan had surely never been. It was a happiness born of deep contentment and the satisfaction of a life lived on one’s own terms. And it was the happiness of a woman who is loved.

Emma was reading the letter a fourth time when the sound of boots on the porch alerted her to Killian’s arrival; she looked up just as he came through the door with a smile on her lips the like of which neither Mrs Nolan nor any other in Haven could ever imagine her smiling.

Killian hung his hat on a hook and met its brilliance with a smile of his own. “What are you thinking about, love, that has you so radiant?” he inquired.

“A letter from Mary Margaret.” Emma indicated the sheet of paper in her hand. “She’s getting married. Is married now, I suppose.”

“To a fellow worthy of her, I hope?”

“A rancher, but not one of the arrogant ones,” Emma replied. “I think he is. Worthy of her, I mean. I think they’ll be happy.”

“That’s good news indeed.”

“It is.” She set the letter aside and went over to him, tucked her head beneath his chin as he enfolded her in his arms. “But that’s not why I’m radiant, as you say.”

“I say it only because it’s true, darling.”

“It’s because I’m happy,” said Emma softly. She nuzzled her nose against his neck; he smelled of sweat and dust and horses. “For Mary Margaret, of course, but also for me. It struck me just now, reading her letter, how happy I am. I’m so happy, Killian.”

His arms around her tightened and she felt him stroke her hair, and when he spoke his voice was gruff. “No regrets then, about abandoning everything you’ve ever known to live out your days on the lam with me?”

“Nope.” Emma pulled back just enough to look up at him, to caress his cheek with her fingertips and press her forehead to his. “No regrets at all.”

Historical Note: Emma in this fic is based loosely on a woman named Etta Place. Very little is known about her, but she is thought to have been romantically involved with Harry Longabaugh, a.k.a. the Sundance Kid, and to have accompanied him and Butch Cassidy to South America. However, verifiable details about her are scarce—even her real name is uncertain—and only one photograph of her remains. Some believe she may have been a prostitute but in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid the writer chose to make her a teacher instead, and honestly I have always found that such a compelling tale. A “proper” schoolteacher having a secret affair with an outlaw, then running away with him to another continent? The romance, am I right?

And thus the inspiration for this story.

@ohmightydevviepuu @thisonesatellite @katie-dub @kmomof4 @killianjones-twopointoh @mariakov81 @stahlop @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @shireness-says @snowbellewells

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #cshistfic #captain swan #western au #historical fic #historical romance #Emma is a teacher #killian is an outlaw #many many historical details #like so many #i make no apologies for this #it's more of a warning #the outlaw Killian Jones (and the legend Emma Swan)#profdanglaisstuff

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