#crimson veins midnight flames

[yeolsaintlaurent]

yeolsaintlaurent is making a taglist

Hi my lovelies ~ comment down below or dm me if you want to be on the taglist for Nocturnal Reverie and Crimson Veins, Midight Flames future chapters!

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 18th

Olfactophilia, Cardinal Copia x Reader (Dracopia edition)

Masterlist

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Olfactophilia; public; mild cardiophilia; hickeys; cunnilingus; hair pulling; praise kink; cumswap; piv sex; vaginal sex; unprotected sex; biting; blood drinking; blood play; creampie;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost

This is a favourite of mine, so I hope you love it just as much as I do.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

In the shadowy realm of the undead, where immortal creatures roamed the night in search of sustenance, there existed Copia. He was a creature of both elegance and darkness, cursed with eternal life and a thirst for human blood that gnawed at him ceaselessly. For centuries, Copia had roamed the earth, silently feeding on victims who were fully aware of just what he was and mewled for him to take them as he pleased. His existence a never-ending cycle of desire and despair.

But one fateful night, under the glow of a blood-red moon, Copia’s unquenchable thirst lead him to a discovery that would consume him like no other before. To you.

It was at a masquerade ball, one of Terzo’s many elaborate and luxurious parties he adored throwing, where the decadent scent of human lives filled the air, that he first laid eyes on you.

You were an enchanting beauty even behind the mask you wore, your hair cascading like a waterfall of silk, your skin glowing radiantly under the dim candlelight. Your scent, however, was what ensnared Copia’s senses. It was unlike any he had ever encountered, a heady, intoxicating aroma that beckoned him closer with each passing second. Your blood sang to him, a sweet and alluring melody that seemed to promise unparalleled ecstasy.

Copia found himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame. He watched you from the shadows, his crimson eyes fixed upon you as you danced gracefully with other members of the Clergy. His sharp fangs tingled with anticipation, and his heart, though undead, raced as if it were still alive. He had never felt such a powerful pull before, and he knew he could not resist the allure of your blood.

Your blood was unlike any other Copia had ever encountered in his centuries-long existence. It was an olfactory masterpiece, a symphony of scents that intoxicated his senses with each passing breath. Akin to human perfume yet intoxicating to vampires, scents usually varied and had genetics to them as well as other cultural factors, such as diet or exposure to sunlight. To describe it required delving into the intricacies of your unique essence.

The first note that wafted to Copia’s sensitive nostrils was a delicate floral fragrance, reminiscent of the rarest and most enchanting blossoms that only bloomed under the light of the full moon. It was as if the very essence of a midnight garden had been distilled into your veins, creating an aroma that was both ethereal and intoxicating.

Beneath the floral undertones, there was a hint of something deeper, something earthy and grounding. It was as if your blood held the secrets of ancient forests, the scent of damp soil and the rich decay of fallen leaves, creating a harmonious balance between the ethereal and the primal.

As he inhaled more deeply, another layer of your scent revealed itself—a subtle sweetness, like the nectar of a thousand flowers condensed into a single drop. It was a sweetness that tantalized his senses, promising unparalleled pleasure and satisfaction, while at the same time reminding him of the forbidden nature of his desires.

But there was more to your blood than just these exquisite layers. It held a hint of warmth, a comforting aroma that spoke of hearth and home, of safety and sanctuary. It was a scent that stirred a longing in Copia’s cold, immortal heart, a longing for a connection that transcended the boundaries of his cursed existence. You were kindhearted and comforting - and somehow your blood gave it away.

As Copia continued to breathe in the intoxicating fragrance of your blood, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the most exquisite wines, aged to perfection, each sip a journey through time and flavor. Your blood was like the rarest vintage, a treasure to be savored and cherished.

Yet, it was precisely this exquisite aroma that made Copia’s struggle all the more torturous. The temptation to taste your blood, to lose himself in its complex and irresistible scent, was nearly unbearable. Tonight he would indulge and partake in you, with your consent of course. He gave himself a silent promise, and he hoped that you would allow him the pleasures of your body as he needed them.

As the night wore on, Copia’s self-control waned. His senses became overwhelmed by the scent of your blood, and every beat of your heart echoed in his ears like a hypnotic drum. He knew he was on the brink of losing himself, succumbing to his primal instincts, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from you. He sneered quietly at anyone who dared approach you and ask for a dance, and glared daggers into any men whose hands drifted far from where they should be on your body.

Finally, unable to restrain himself any longer, Copia approached you, his movements like a predatory dance. You looked up at him, your kind eyes locking with his, and in that moment, you too felt the undeniable connection between you both. It was as if fate had brought you together, two beings on opposite sides of the living and the undead, bound by an inexplicable attraction.

You danced. You were both enthralled by one another, hypnotised by an invisible force that forced a need to strengthen and bubble up inside you. With each dance step, your bodies got closer, and closer, and closer, until eventually not even a sheet of paper could be wedged between you. It was all too much for Copia. He was thirsty for you in more ways than one. Your scent overpowered him to the brink of insanity and he knew he had to taste you in every way he could. When the music was over, he took your hand into his gloved one and walked you both off the dance floor and away from the Clergy’s prying eyes.

In a secluded corner of the ballroom, Copia’s lips brushed against your neck, his fangs dangerously close to your tender skin. He could feel your pulse quicken, your breath hitch, and he knew you understood the perilous situation you were in. But neither of you could resist the magnetic force that drew you together. His gloved hand came to the other side of your neck, the leather rubbing against the front of your throat. “Not yet, bella. I wish to savour you first. Will you allow me the honour?”

Before you could change your mind, you nodded. “Yes.” Your voice came out as no more than a breathy whisper, which was fortunate given that just round the corner, Terzo’s party raged on.

He allowed himself to take another inhale of your scent at the pulse-point in your neck, eyes rolling back at the flavours that combined so perfectly it made goosebumps appear on his pale skin. He licked at that pulse-point, teasing himself with your taste and allowing him just a snippet of what was to come, his cock growing ever harder under his formal Cardinal robes. He allowed his lips to travel the expanse of your skin, following the flow of your veins and groaning as his nose hovered above your heart. He could hear it beating, sped up at your nervousness. He was so close to you and it made your heart skip many a beat, rushing your delectable blood around your body in anticipation of what was to come. That rhythm, that melody that proved just how vibrant and alive you were was only for him to hear - like a secret no one else needed to know. He placed a tender kiss on your chest above that hard-working, beautiful heart, before continuing down the length of your arm.

Your wrist was his next port of call, your natural perfume emanating strongly from the prominent blue veins that you relied upon. He pressed open mouthed kisses to it, again teasing himself with the smell and the taste of you. Yet the longer he hovered, the more tempted he became, and pulling himself away was so difficult he could hardly stand it.

He dropped to his knees in front of you, his leather-clad fingers playing with the hem of your dress that had been puffed out by a large hoop skirt, giving you the appearance of a 17th century princess. You watched him hesitate for a moment, before wide eyes stared up at you as if to plead with you to grant him permission. His eyes were mismatched and popped against his Cardinal paints, and the baby bat eyes had your heart skipping a beat. You couldn’t say no. You moved your hands from the waist of your dress and began pulling your skirts up, granting him access to your legs and eventually your panties. He took your left leg in his hands, lifting it gently and placing delicate kisses from your ankle to your knees. Those kisses became more and more heated the higher up his lips traveled, and once again his tongue came out to play. Though now, instead of just kissing, he also began to suck, marking your left thigh with not one, but many dark brown hickeys. No one would see them here, but you would be reminded of them every time you caught a glimpse of your naked body. The thought alone drove Copia crazy. “Ti voglio così tanto.” He confessed from below you, his deep voice soft and filled with desire for you. I want you so much.

As soon as he reached your panties, he hooked his fingers over the waistband and pulled them off, placing them in one of the deep pockets of his robe - not before giving them a deep inhale. They would serve him well for a few nights at least. But now he had total access to your most intimate part, and he was dizzy with your scent. Your arousal had flooded your cunt with blood and Copia could no longer control himself. His fangs didn’t come to play yet, but he dove straight in and began licking and sucking at your clit. He was so desperate and needy for your taste, he forgot to take it easy and instead allowed himself to just take from you want he wanted. The small and quiet whimpers that escaped from your partially opened mouth were enough to spur him on, and encourage him to continue his ministrations. You had, of course, spoken to him before this moment - your voice as melodic as your scent, but now your voice was more than a song. It was a calling from below, from Satan himself, rewarding Copia with praise and glory for his centuries of faith. “Right there!” You whispered, punctuating your sentence with a particularly breathy moan due to the harsh suction he performed.

One of your hands let go of the hem of your dress to clutch onto his hair, your own neediness manifesting in the form of a tight grip around his brownish-blonde locks. Copia’s corresponding hand came up to hold the dress still needing it out of the way to please you as much as he possibly could. The harder you pulled meant the better you felt, and that got Copia impossibly hard. He needed the relief. So, as his mouth worshipped you like the gift Lucifer had sent, his other (free) hand came to his own clothed cock, and began to rub over it to relieve some of the pressure building. The size of your skirts meant you couldn’t see exactly what Copia was doing to himself, but his shoulder was moving as though it were a ripple of disturbed water, and that somehow was even hotter. You saw nothing, but the implication of him touching himself because he simply couldn’t wait anymore had you gasping for air. The hand tangled in his hair released him and flew up to your mouth, covering your exceptionally desperate moans as you came on his tongue right as the music had stopped and the dancers were clapping.

Copia didn’t release you from his suctioned grip until he was sure your orgasm had ebbed away, his moustache and chin glistening with your wetness and a small grin on his face. “Bella,” he said gently, “you are exquisite.”

He stood from his knees and kissed your lips, his tongue begging for entrance which was granted. You could taste yourself on his tongue, your cum now entering your mouth and sending another wave of arousal down to your pussy. “Will you allow me entrance, dolcezza?”

You nodded.

“Grazie. Turn around for me.” You did as you were told, pressing your breasts against the wall and arching your back slightly to grant Copia easier access once again.

Each of his moves were calculated ensuring your modesty would still be intact in case someone passed by and witnessed him defiling you. He only lifted your skirts enough to grant him access. His cock rubbed against you twice before you felt his cold, bulbous tip at your entrance, slowly pushing in and forcing your jaw to drop at the sensation. He was much larger than any other man you’d taken, and while the stretch burned it was delicious. Your nipples hardened beneath the material of your underwear and every one of your hairs stood on end. Your entire body was sensitive, feeling his cock in every inch of you from your head to your toes that were curling in your heels. All the while, Copia buried his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent once more and trying to drown himself in it. With the head of his cock now pressed up against your cervix, his hands moved to grope your body, his desire for you becoming completely unbearable. You were soft beneath his touch, pliant, blood and adrenaline circling in all the right places to keep you warm. He tested the waters, tentative thrusts allowing him to make sure you were ready for him to move before he let his lust take over and call all she shots for him. And thankfully, you were ready.

Bracing his right hand against your hip and the left wrapped around your stomach, he began to move in and out of you, long, thoughtful, deep strokes that set your walls on fire with each one. All the while, his face never left the crook of your neck, his tongue coming out to lick and suck at the pulse-point and every inhale filling his nostrils like a drug giving him the energy he needed. After your first orgasm, your blood had gotten sweeter, the Oxycontin released into your blood providing a more honeyed note, the wine turning into mead. Intoxicating, truly.

Your moans were much louder now than they were moments ago, confident in the loudness of the next song in shielding you both from detection. Your left hand rested atop Copia’s that was wrapped around your stomach and you interlocked your fingers with his, the passion proving too much for you to handle on your own. You needed him to ground you despite the fact that he was the one sending you directly to nirvana. “C-Cardinal!” You called out to him and you couldn’t describe why. You needed him closer, moving faster, though he already felt glorious inside you, each ardent thrust ensuring the head of his cock hit your cervix deliciously. Your eyes were closed, and your right hand began traversing down beneath your skirts to play with your sensitive clit. You had no idea when Copia planned to drink from you, but the apprehension had you reeling.

Copia’s grunts were so close to your ear they practically vibrated throughout your entire body. “Sei così fradicia per me, bella.” You’re dripping wet for me, beautiful. “It is a wonder why I never took a bite from your sumptuous fruit before.” He gently began nipping at your skin, and nibbling at your ear. “Tell me, bella, did you want me to?”

“Yes!” You gasped at a particularly breathtaking hit.

“You touched yourself at the thought of this, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Cardinal!”

He chuckled lowly before going back to your neck. “Tell me what you thought about.”

“This… you… oh, Lucifer! I thought about how much you’d fill me - how good you’d feel inside of me. I…”

“Go on, dolcezza.”

“I thought about you biting me and drinking from me. I thought about feeding you.”

He released a deep and gutteral groan at the thought of it. He hadn’t known who you were before tonight, he’d never crossed your path, but knowing that you’d desired him for a while had his hips snapping much harder than before. His undead body revived by you and the lust for your lifeblood and cunt, your words and desperate pleas lighting a fire in his stomach making him even more ravenous for you. He intended on tormenting you further, but the image of you laying in your room with your legs spread and the image of him drinking from you as you came did more for his impending orgasm than he wanted to admit. “I need you to cum for me again, bella. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Cardinal.”

“Good girl.”

With a few more flicks of your fingers, and your breaths becoming more and more laboured, you tipped over the edge once more. Copia had picked up the exact point where your lungs briefly halted as you began to cum, and sunk his teeth into you. This earned a deep, breathless moan from you as your orgasm heightened at the sensation. Still thrusting as hard as he wanted, still pulling you as close to his body as he could, he began lapping up the crimson blood that poured from the two open wounds in your neck. He wasn’t as fast as he wanted to be, and when he opened his eyes he saw two trails of deep red spilling down your neck and over your breast, pooling between your cleavage at where your bra sat flush against the skin. He groaned at the sinful sight, and as he took his final gulp, he released his seed inside of you, cumming the hardest he ever had. You tasted as good as you smelled, he knew you would. But now there would be no letting you go. It was so difficult for him to stop, he’d realised when it was too late that he’d taken a little more blood from you than what he’d intended, and so he pulled back and out of you, and closed up the wound as best as he could with his saliva. You were on the verge of fainting, now covered in your own blood and had his cum dripping out of your cunt, there was no way you could go back to the party now. Instead, he helped you back to his room where he could keep an eye on you and feed you until your blood and strength had replenished.

He watched you sleep as you lay in the bed he never used, and gently caressed your smooth cheek. You were so peaceful and divine. It was truly a gift from Sathanas. He would spend the rest of his days thanking the Dark One for sending you to him.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[jammed-out]

Hypnovember Day 6 - Soul Contract

(CW: Demonic Pact, ass eating, soul stealing)

Lucas stared intently at his work. The sigils drawn in the mixture of squid ink and blood staining the stone floor of the ancient castle. There was still magic within these old stones, powerful, dark magic that only needed unleashing. It was nearly midnight now. The candles flickered in the soft breeze that came through the cracked walls. It chilled his body, rushing under the old cloak that he pulled tightly around his clothes. He trembled, either from nerves or anticipation, likely both.

The clouds parted, moonlight flowing in, pouring over the shattered glass dome that rose in the tower high above his head. It reflected off of the fragments still in place, cascading down in brilliant rays. They raked over the center symbol, the ink glowing a deep red, pulsing from the blood within. The magic surged growing outwards, tracing over each line, burning their way outward and across the stones, the cracks surging a deep purple as the runes pulled the magic out from within the castle. The candles flickered, growing larger, brighter as the magic pulsed within them.

Lucas stood there, at the top of the star, bound within his own circle of sealing, the larger circle around it preserved for what he would summon. A beast to grant his greatest wishes, power, wealth, he would have it all finally. The magic surged in the ring around him, deep red tendrils shooting up and lashing out at him. They gripped his ankles and wrists, red hot chains of magic tugging at him. The magic surged under his skin, tracing across his body in intricate patterns. His eyes grew black, cloaked in shadows as his mouth began to chant silently, lips moving without a sound coming out from within. He shook violently as smoke erupted from his mouth, floating over towards the center of the larger ring. It pulsed, the barrier rippling as it passed through. The smoke merged with the candle flame in the center, erupting into a large burning ember. The entire center wring exploded in a wall of fire, the floor erupting outward, the heat and flames contained only by the magic barrier at the edge, yet still Lucas could feel the heat against his face.

A deep crimson hand clawed at the barrier, pressing through the flames. Its deep black fingers digging into the barrier, pulling at it to no avail. A loud howl rang through the air as the flames dissipated backwards. There, standing in the center of the now destroyed sigil, was a creature of pure power and energy. She stood nearly eight feet tall, every inch of her body covered in tightly toned crimson flesh. Her bare feet and hands, capped in shiny black claws that glowed underneath. From her back sprouted a pair of large red wings that faded into black by the edges. Her tail, spiked, curled around her on the floor, flicking back and forth lightly. Her bare body, seemed to almost pulse with deep red glows traveling along her veins like flowing lava. Her head was capped by two large horns that curled around her head like a crown. Flames danced along them like an infernal halo. From the back of her head, long black wavy hair curled down and over her shoulders. Her mouth, wide, monstrous, almost like a dragon’s. She snarled, rows of sharp teeth showing beneath pitch black lips. Her eyes gazed at Lucas, deep black orbs with burning red irises in the center. She snarled and charged at the barrier leaning against it. Lucas looked up at her, fear in his face.

“Free me mortal or face the full wrath of my might!” She howled, a low rumbling that echoed throughout the chamber.

“I have made the sacrifice to summon you. You are bound to me!” Lucas tried to say loudly, hiding the nerves in his throat.

She licked her lips, a long forked tongue snaking out and rolling across them. “Foolish boy. You trifle with powers you do not understand.” She raised a crooked hand, fingers curling tightly into a fist. She pulled down roughly.

Lucas gasped as the chains pulled quickly, tugging him towards the floor. He gasped as his knees slammed against the ground. His hands pulled back behind him tightly, tugging him backwards. He tried to fight against them, the chains only pulling tighter forcing him into an uncomfortable position. He tried to speak, chanting, when suddenly another burning metal chain shot up around his throat. It squeezed tightly, cutting off his air. His eyes bulged and he gasped.

“A foolish little thing like yourself does not belong as an owner but as a loving thrall to a demoness like myself. You do not even understand the magic with which you play. You are nothing but a fool, toying with powers beyond yourself. Now free me or I shall rend you limb from limb!” She whispered trailing a finger along the barrier. Her fist relaxing slightly.

The chains loosened causing Lucas to fall forward gasping on his hands and knees. He tugged at the chain around his neck, but even so, the clasp would not budge. He looked up at the demoness towering over him on the other side of the barrier. She raised her fist, hand rising slowly, the chains pulling backwards into the glowing sigil slowly. He whimpered and quickly ran his hand over the sigil on the barrier between them.

The air rippled as the magic shattered, the sigil broken as Lucas’s hand smeared through it coating his fingers. The barrier flickered and dissipated. He could feel the hot air rush towards him through the opening, the demon’s breath burning a column through the air over him. He looked up slowly and was quickly yanked backwards towards the ground with a thud. He flipped onto his back, his legs splayed out beneath him as the chains held tightly, keeping his feet and hands tied to the ground. He could move his head still, but only slightly.

The demon stood towering over him, her body radiating heat in the air. The only light shining now that the moon had disappeared behind the clouds, was the light radiating off of her body. She stood, smirking, her hand raised.

“Tell me boy. What was it you wanted?” She stepped forward, her feet trailing on either side of his body. Her tail scratched along the ground circling near his body.

Lucas swallowed dryly. “I wanted power. I wanted people to want me. I wanted to be the one-“

“You wanted to be seen…” She purred and crouched down. Her legs bending with ease until she was practically sitting just above his waist. Lucas could feel himself averting his gaze yet still, that did nothing to stop his growing arousal. The demoness could clearly sense as much and leaned down gripping his chin with her hand. She gently turned his head sideways, her mouth lowering to his ear. He could feel her breath against it. “I see you boy. I offer you that in return for the soul pact you made.”

Lucas trembled and nodded slowly. He didn’t know if it was her forcing him to nod or if he did it willingly. Her hand slid down and the chains around his neck snapped allowing him to breathe freely. He inhaled deeply, the smell of autumn wood and brimstone filling his nose. He bit his lip and let her hand wrap around his neck, squeezing tightly.

“You don’t need this anymore.” Her free hand wrapped around the top of his head and squeezed. Lucas felt his eyes roll back in his head as if something was pulling out the top of his head. Everything started to get fuzzy and cloudy. His thoughts grew harder to think by the second. He groaned as everything slowly started to fade away into blank nothingness. He couldn’t remember who he was or what he was doing here, or who this tall person was standing over him now.

“I can hear you trying to think, it becomes hard without that soul in the way now doesn’t it. It would be much easier to let me think for you, wouldn’t it boy?” The boy nodded, his eyelids half lidded and drifting over glassy eyes. Whoever this person was, was so smart, they seemed to know exactly what the boy needed to do.

“Good boy. Now. Stick your tongue out. Time to teach you your first lesson in serving me.” She turned around and began to lower her ass towards his face. The boy stuck his tongue out eagerly waiting for what to do next. She spread her cheeks and sat, smothering him. Her warm skin immediately heated up his face, causing him to break out in a sweat. She began to grind her ass back on his tongue.

The boy quickly began to lick earning moans of delight from the other person. He smiled assuming they must be enjoying themselves. They reached back, their hand pulling their face deeper as they cut the air off from him. He gasped choking as he continued licking, he had not been told otherwise.

“I’m going to have fun with you. For a very long time to come.” The other person purred and released the boy’s head letting it drop to the floor as they gasped for air. They began to lower their ass once more. “That’s enough of a break. Now back to it.”

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Hope you enjoyed that. I’ll be following @h_sleepingirl prompt list for the entire month because I really like a couple of the prompts on the list. You should also definitely check out and support them.

You’ll also be able to find all of my writings under the tags on my page. Hope you enjoy and see you tomorrow!

[zapreportsblog]

Awww. so cute . I see Jasper giving both Esme and his mama flowers and spending the day with them on Mother's day. He also has a picture of both of them on his nightstand in his bedroom. I can see also Esme and her being the best of friends and sometimes embaressing Jasper togther. The reader remebering Jasper's real birthday and he gets a surpize birthday party. The Major comes out and refers the reader as his mama.

Garrett x hybrid reader (Half dragon / half vampire) She has long black hair that goes pass her knees when she has it down. She is 5 ft 11inches. She is over 1000 years old. Because she is half vampire, she does not fully transform into a dragon. She has wings and claws of a dragon but the marble like body of a vampire but does not sparkle and she cannot be harmed like a vampire but has the ability to destroy full vampires. Her eyes are the color of fire, but she wears sunglasses when she goes out in public. She knows several different martial arts and several languages. She also fought alongside Jasper/ The Major when they severed in the army, The only reason she is still alive and not killed by the Volturi is because she can breathe out fire.

Feel free to add anything.

❝fire and fangs❞

✭ pairing : Garrett x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) is a hybrid like non other

✭ pretty short summary i know but shit I have no idea on what to say

✭ twilight masterlist

The world was a tapestry of shadows and secrets, and nestled within it was (Y/N), a being of both darkness and light. Born of the bloodlines of two supernatural worlds, she was a (half dragon / half vampire) hybrid whose existence defied the boundaries of the mundane.

Long, obsidian black hair cascaded down her back, a cascade of midnight that reached past her knees when allowed to flow free. At 5 feet 11 inches, she held a commanding presence, a testament to the centuries she had witnessed.

Over a millennium of existence had shaped (Y/N) into a creature both majestic and fearsome. As a (half vampire), she wore the marble-like body that defined her kin, though it lacked the iridescent sparkles that plagued the minds of mortals.

Her body bore the marks of her draconic heritage - wings that unfurled with pride and claws that could rend through even the toughest of defenses. Her eyes blazed with the hues of fire, a mesmerizing dance of crimson and gold that held a power all its own.

Though the heat of her gaze could lay bare the essence of a being, (Y/N) was not careless. When venturing among humans, she donned sunglasses that hid the fire within her eyes, a precaution to shield them from the intensity that could reveal her nature.

In her veins coursed ancient memories of battles fought and won, a past that intertwined with the very fabric of history. She had known many tongues and fought alongside the fiercest warriors. Among them was Jasper, known as The Major, his influence having carved scars into the annals of time. It was alongside him that she had honed her combat skills, emerging as a force that could command both sword and flame.

The Volturi's gaze had fallen upon her many times, yet she had survived the centuries, a testament to the inferno that dwelled within her. The very flames that could spell destruction for other vampires were her shield. Her breath held the essence of dragons, a fiery torrent that consumed those who dared stand against her.

But amongst the chaos and immortality, she had found solace in a mate named Garrett. His existence was a parallel to hers – a life that straddled the line between humanity and something more. He had seen the fire within her, recognized the force that raged beneath the surface. Their connection was a blend of passion and understanding, a recognition of the shared battles they had faced.

In the quiet moments, their bond was a flame that burned brightest, a warmth that brought solace to the chaos of their supernatural existence. But as the world spun on, (Y/N)'s history and her very nature beckoned toward a future fraught with challenges – challenges that would test her loyalty, her power, and the depths of her connection with Garrett.

The bond between (Y/N) and Garrett was a tempestuous dance, a collision of fire and passion that defied the constraints of time. Their love had flourished in the heart of battles fought side by side, a union forged in the crucible of adversity. As the years unfurled, their connection only deepened, becoming an unbreakable tether that bound them through the ages.

Together, they roamed the shadows of the world, their presence a testament to the enigmatic and dangerous. Wherever they ventured, they were a sight to behold – (Y/N), with her marble-like skin bearing the mark of both dragon and vampire, and Garrett, a testament to humanity's tenuous connection to the supernatural.

In the dimly lit corners of night, they whispered secrets that only they could share, the intensity of their emotions reflected in the flames that flickered within (Y/N)'s eyes. Garrett's touch was both tender and fierce, a promise of protection and passion that bridged the gap between their disparate worlds.

As years turned into centuries, (Y/N) and Garrett found themselves drawn into a new chapter of their existence. A storm was brewing, one that threatened the fragile peace they had carved for themselves. A rising tide of conflict threatened to engulf the supernatural realm, and their very identities placed them at the center of the storm.

(Y/N)'s fiery breath and the clash of her wings were a force to be reckoned with, a reminder that her very presence was a double-edged sword. She was a protector and a destroyer, a dichotomy that mirrored the flames of her soul. Her connection to both vampires and dragons made her a formidable ally, but it also cast a shadow of suspicion upon her.

The Volturi's gaze lingered upon her, their curiosity and apprehension intermingling. She was an anomaly, a creature they had not encountered before, and her existence posed questions that they sought to answer with an unrelenting intensity.

As the storm clouds of conflict gathered, (Y/N) and Garrett stood poised on the precipice of a choice that would shape the course of their future. The ember of their love burned brighter, a beacon of hope in the face of uncertainty. The battles they had fought had steeled their resolve, and they were ready to face whatever challenges awaited them.

But as the first drops of rain began to fall, the taste of electricity in the air, (Y/N) knew that the flames within her were not only a source of power but also a beacon that could draw danger ever closer. The choices she would make in the days to come would echo through eternity, their repercussions felt not only by her and Garrett, but by the entire supernatural world that thrived in the shadows.

The winds of change howled through the supernatural world, carrying with them the scent of uncertainty and impending conflict. (Y/N) and Garrett stood at the heart of the storm, their bond tested by the forces that sought to unravel their lives.

Whispers of alliances and allegiances shifted like shadows, a complex web that entangled vampires, werewolves, and other supernatural beings. (Y/N)'s status as a hybrid drew attention from all corners, her unique nature both a potential asset and a source of fear.

The Volturi's presence loomed like a dark cloud, their inscrutable motives casting a shadow over the horizon. (Y/N)'s past as a companion to Jasper during their time in the army had given her a unique insight into combat strategy. Her training in various martial arts lent her a level of proficiency that was unmatched, and the fire within her could be wielded with a precision that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

Garrett, her mate, was a steadfast presence at her side. His unwavering support was a lifeline that kept her grounded as the storm raged around them. His human origins had given him a perspective that often eluded the immortal beings of the supernatural world, a gift that complemented (Y/N)'s own experiences.

As alliances were formed and lines were drawn, (Y/N) and Garrett found themselves swept into the currents of a war that felt both inevitable and heartbreaking. Their journey took them from the hidden enclaves of supernatural covens to the heart of battles that echoed with the clash of swords and the crackle of fire.

But it was amidst the chaos of battle that (Y/N)'s true power was revealed. Her ability to harness both the flames of her dragon heritage and the unyielding strength of her vampire lineage made her a force that could turn the tide of any confrontation. With wings unfurled and eyes ablaze, she became a beacon of hope for those who fought alongside her.

In the heart of battle, she found herself facing adversaries who sought to extinguish the fire that burned within her. The Volturi, driven by their own motives, stood as formidable opponents. Yet, (Y/N)'s flames roared with a ferocity that could not be quelled. In the midst of the chaos, she faced her fears and embraced her destiny – a destiny that was interwoven with the fate of the supernatural world itself.

As the battle raged on, her wings cast shadows that danced like flames against the backdrop of the night. The ground trembled beneath her feet, and the clash of power echoed through the air. Garrett fought by her side, their connection a reminder that love could burn as fiercely as any fire.

But amidst the fury of battle, (Y/N) and Garrett knew that the choices they made could shape the future not only for themselves but for the generations that would follow. Their love was a beacon of strength, a testament to the unbreakable spirit that could emerge even from the darkest of times. And as they faced the storm together, they would find that the flames within them held the power to forge a new path, one that would redefine the destiny of the supernatural world.

[madame-wilsonn]

Midnights: Chapter 12

MASTERLIST — MIDNIGHTS MASTERLIST

Summary: Tommy decided to retreat into the hills and wait for death to finally come and release him

Warnings: mentions of death, dead people, blood, suicide, angst

Word count: 933 words

The wind blew, making the leaves chant in the starless night. Tommy could feel the breeze tickling his skin but he wasn’t cold. The amount of alcohol rushing through his veins and the small fire in front of him was enough to stay warm.

He sat on the grass, observing the flames dancing, somehow amazed by the show in front of him. It was beautiful. Like glowing snakes circling before his eyes. They were taunting him, compelling him to reach out, let his fingers graze their fiery figures.

“You’ll burn yourself if you do that, love.”

Tommy looked behind the fire, squinting his eyes to see the woman standing before him. That voice…He knew her.

She approached and his heart sank in his chest.

“Mum?”

It had been so long since he had seen her. And even after all these dreadful years, she still looked the same. Long, dark hair against her soft porcelain skin and those eyes…just as deep as his, just as enchanting.

Suddenly, Tommy felt like a little boy again. His mum sat next to him and observed the fire. They used to spend hours like this, just the two of them, quietly enjoying each other. When was the last time he sat with her? Why did it ever stop?

He turned to her, about to ask her but all that left his mouth was a gasp. She was drenched, her dress clinging to her body. The soft, dark locks turned into leeches, hiding the translucent skin underneath. Bruises coloring her cheeks, her arms, the piercing eyes faded into a lifeless blue. “You didn’t help me, Thomas.”

He could only stare in horror, his chest heaving. She had jumped in the Canal and nobody was there to save her. He should’ve known, he should’ve seen that his mother needed him. All the spirits and the seances and the moments of eerie silence where it felt like she was one…Tommy knew.

And he did nothing.

“Why didn’t you help us, Thomas?”

He turned around.

Polly.

She wore the same blue dress, the same jewelry as he saw her last. The same gaping wound on her chest.

“I-I’m sorry,” is all he could answer. He repeated his apology. Over and over. Like it mattered. Like it would bring them back.

Small coughs echoed through the vast valley and Tommy searched for the sound. The horrifying wraiths vanished, replaced by an even more frightening sight.

“Ruby!”

He scrambled towards the lump on the floor, reaching out for his daughter’s hand. She coughed again, blood splattering all over his clothes. No.

“You didn’t kiss me goodbye, daddy,” she whimpered, her brow covered in cold sweats . “You killed me.”

“No, no, Ruby, my darling. Stay with me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” his voice broke as he tried to touch her, to bring her close. He couldn't fail. He couldn't lose her again.

“Oh but you already failed. You killed me too, Tom, remember?”

Grace stood over Ruby’s body, dirt covering the once delicate features of her face. She caressed his daughter’s hair, staring at her husband. Her eyes taunted him as her hands clasped the small shoulder. “You said you’d protect me. You promised.”

The powdered pink dress turned a crimson red, Tommy extended his hands, trying to soak the blood. ”And then you let me die.”

“I didn’t mean–” but the dark stain dripped over his hands, like all the blood he had shed so carelessly. The blue sapphire over his head shone accusingly. It laughed at him, pridefully reflecting the fire’s light. You killed them all.

On his knees, Tommy searched for his gun. He would end it. End it all. No more pain, no more agony. He would go back and spend the rest of his eternity burning for his sins.

“Why are you trying to escape? Why are you always running away, Tommy?” Greta sat near the fire, his gun in her hand. “You promised you would never leave me.”

Dark circles, hollow cheeks and blood tainting her lips. She stared at him, her gaze once full of adoration now void. “You can’t escape now.”

She checked the chamber, lifting the gun. Tommy closed his eyes, his lips trembling as he waited for the final bang.

His heart stopped as the loud noise resonated through the valley but he didn’t feel anything. Tommy opened his eyes, searching for blood. Nothing.

All he saw was John, falling on his knees, clutching his chest. His brother stared at him in disbelief, tears welling up in his clear eyes.

The gun. The gun was in his hand. He had fired the shot.

“No…no, John. No. I didn’t-”

Tommy joined his brother, his fingers shaking as he tried to touch the wound. He had to soak up the wound before he lost too much blood. He had to put pressure on it. He had to…

“W-why did you do it, Tom?”

“No, I didn’t mean to, I–”

John’s body had already vanished, only leaving the overwhelming guilt for Tommy to drown in. His lips wavered, his fist hitting the ground as if to make amends. The crisp air seemed to laugh at his miserable state.

“It was too late,” it seemed to snicker. “You killed them all, you failed.”

In the eerie night, Tommy sat near the fire. The flames called for him. The cold breeze hurt his lungs, only the warm hearth would make the pain stop. There was no rest for him, no absolution.

As he stared at the amber snakes, Tommy knew.

There was only one thing left for him to do.

Taglist: @aaskoct @cillmequick @dandelionprints @edmundo-diaz @forgottenpeakywriter @huntingingoodwill @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @jokim @julkaamazing @lili12356 @look-at-the-soul @lyarr24 @midnightmagpiemama @milkshakelol @notyour-valentine @rangerelik​ @salvatoremeanssavior @thesoldiersminute @emotionalcadaver @zablife @shelbydelrey @peakypolly 

[drunkenskunk]

I woke up just a little after midnight this morning, and the Basil Poledouris soundtrack from the 1982 classic Conan The Barbarian was playing in my head.

So... I decided to reread my collection of the old Conan stories by Robert Howard.

It has me feeling a strange mixture of emotions.

I am struck by a pensive melancholy, and yet I sense a great violence welling up within me; a surge of bloodlust, of boiling blood flowing through my veins, calling for release... yet tempered by the terrible weight of knowledge that I am shackled by the chains of civilization, and with nerves so deadened by that foul beast, Depression.

I yearn for a thing that never was.

Even now, the visions fade from my mind... ghostly after-images dancing across my eyes are all that remain of things which were once so crystal clear. Coward that I am, I shall never possess the strength to reach out and claim the destiny I have desired all my life...

. . .

"I have known many gods. He who denies them is as blind as he who trusts them too deeply. I seek not beyond death. It may be the blackness averred by the Nemedian skeptics, or Crom's realm of ice and cloud, or the snowy plains and vaulted halls of the Norheimer's Valhalla. I know not, nor do I care. Let me live deep while I live; let me know the rich juices of red meat and stinging wine on my palate, the hot embrace of white arms, the mad exultation of battle when the blue blades flame and crimson, and I am content. Let teachers and philosophers brood over questions of reality and illusion. I know this: if life is illusion, then I am no less an illusion, and being thus, the illusion is real to me. I live, I burn with life, I love, I slay, and am content."

[xasha777]

In the heartland of a sprawling city that hummed with the vibrancy of life and the roar of engines, there was a particular strip of tarmac where legends were born, and steel steeds proved their mettle. This was the domain of the Red Lightning—a 1980s sports car that had been the underdog champion of countless races, its once-gleaming coat now a deep, battle-scarred crimson.

But Red Lightning wasn't just a machine; it was the heart and soul of Ava, a mechanic with the touch of Midas and eyes that seemed to pierce through metal, finding potential in the most broken of things. Ava had inherited Red Lightning and her father's garage, a sanctuary for lost cars and lost souls alike.

On this day, the skies were a melancholic grey, pregnant with the promise of rain, as Ava knelt beside Red Lightning with the hood popped open, her hands a ballet of precision inside the beast's mechanical entrails. Clad in her azure jumpsuit, she was a striking contrast to the car's fiery hue, her blonde curls cascading like golden flames under the diffuse light of the overcast sky.

Nestled in her lap, gazing upon the world with the wisdom of the ages, was Mr. Whiskers, a Maine Coon with a coat that mirrored the storm clouds above. He was her silent partner, a fixture in the garage as much as any wrench or screwdriver. Mr. Whiskers had a habit of appearing whenever Ava was on the cusp of a breakthrough, his green eyes reflecting her own determination.

Today was more than a routine checkup for Red Lightning. Today, they were preparing for The Surge, an unsanctioned race that only the bravest dared enter. It was a sprint for glory that spanned the city, blurring the line between audacity and insanity. Ava and Red Lightning had been the reigning champions for the past two years, but this year, the competition was fierce, and the stakes were higher than ever.

As Ava's hands moved with practiced ease, replacing spark plugs and tightening belts, she whispered to the car, her voice a melodic hum barely heard over the clink of metal. She didn't just fix cars; she spoke to them, listened to them, understood them in a way that transcended logic.

Mr. Whiskers meowed, a low and approving rumble, as if to affirm her approach. Together, they were an unusual but unstoppable team. Ava with her gifted hands and Mr. Whiskers with his uncanny ability to detect the slightest imperfection in an engine's purr.

Hours passed, and as the first droplets of rain began to fall, Ava closed the hood with a satisfying thud. Red Lightning was ready. She scooped Mr. Whiskers into her arms and stood, her gaze fixed on the horizon. There was electricity in the air, a charge that ran through her veins, igniting a fire that only the roar of an engine could satiate.

The race would begin at midnight, when the city's pulse slowed, and the streets emptied. Ava and Mr. Whiskers would merge with Red Lightning, a trinity of flesh, fur, and steel, racing not just against others, but against time, against the very limits of fear and possibility.

As the night unfolded, Red Lightning would roar to life, and Ava would become one with the machine, her blue eyes alight with the same fire that had made her a legend. And Mr. Whiskers, ever her co-pilot, would ride along, his keen senses guiding them through the labyrinth of the city's veins.

This is a tale of speed, of a bond that transcends species, a story of a woman, her cat, and a car with a soul. In a world that often forgot the beauty of a well-oiled machine and the simple loyalty of a pet, Ava, Mr. Whiskers, and Red Lightning were a reminder of the poetry in motion, the symphony of life at full throttle.

[dat-town]

pretty little monster

Characters: hunter!Taehyun & female OC

Setting & genre: supernatural au, bits of horror, based on the Korean folk tale 'the fox sister'

Summary: What makes a monster? What if you're one, too?

Warnings: lots of mentions of blood, murder, cannibalism (as in eating human liver), character death, emotional manipulation, ambiguous ending

Words: 5.2k

Author’s note: this is my part for the happily never after halloween collab by @soobism and @svhnflwr, check out the other authors and have a nice spooky season! ^^

OC is a gumiho (fox spirit) of Korean ethnicity since the story is set in Seoul and to honour the origin of the fairy tale. other than her past, the historical places, events and figures mentioned in the story were real.

She came like a heart attack: breathtaking and out of blue.

She was a vision painted with blood: her body wrapped in a red one piece dress with red high heels, her crimson lips in a wicked smile and her midnight hair in waves. She smiled like mischief, her eyes promising fun as she asked:

"Have you heard the tale of the fox girl who ate her parents and brothers in order to live?"

"I don't believe in fairytales," her company dismissed her question as if it was a silly little thing, something he shouldn't have cared about. Oh, yes, people these days were just like that. Long gone were the days when people called shamans and made talismans upon seeing her vulpine features. Long gone was the time when they stood a chance. Against beings like her.

"But you believe in business," the girl, no older than twenty on the outside, noted like she knew something he didn't. The conglomerate heir pursed his lips and ran a hand through his silky hair, his Swiss watch glinting under the lights. He hated when it wasn't him who had the leverage, so he watched her warily. She carried on with a sweetened smile, granulated like sugar cubes but only half as sweet as poison. "You believe in balance: eye for an eye, life for a life, don't you?"

"What does it have to do with anything?” He tilted his head, confused but curious, his eyes scamming through her perfect porcelain skin and rosy lips. Not for the first time since the mysterious girl took a seat beside him in one of Gangnam's fanciest bars did the young man look at her with interest.

"Everything, handsome, everything," she hummed with a chuckle, her earrings flashing gold just like her eyes under the chandelier's light.

The smallest of her movements were like hypnosis and her laughter was like a siren’s song, drawing the young man in. Like a moth to the flame, the guy was immediately attracted. Stupid like most of them were, he thought it was his idea: paying for her drinks, making small talk, asking if she wanted to get out of this place. So easy, so predictable and all it took was one compliment and a little mystery.

Outside, the night was buzzing, like a vein pulsing with adrenaline and excitement. The clouds were hauntedly dark above and the smell of rain was still almost tangible in the air. Mainstream music’s sound was pouring out onto the streets, mixing with noises of cars passing by. The cry of pain was just another in the cacophony of the wild city and by the time they discover the pool of blood and the body in the parking lot, it would be too late.

A life for a life; or rather a thousand.

Only one more to go.

Taehyun dumped the contents of a trash bin into the container behind the diner with a sigh. Too bad hunting down monsters didn't pay the bills or else he surely wouldn't have worked an underpaid job like this. But this one he could at least take with his lack of working experience and tendencies to call in emergencies every other week. Emergencies as in a vampire caven spreading, incubi disturbing people, kelpis attacking near the Han River or…

“We have a new case,” Jungkook told him over the phone. Taehyun held the device between his ear and his shoulder, humming as he acknowledged the news and to signal that he was listening. He was just too busy focusing on not dumping everything else into the dirt.

"What's it about?" He grunted, throwing the last trash bin in.

"Rich guy found dead in a parking lot in Gangnam," his partner told him, panting as if he was in the middle of a run. Wouldn't have been surprising, Jungkook liked to listen to police radio frequencies during exercise.

"If he was mobbed, it's hardly our case. Let the police do their job for once," Taehyun laughed and put the phone to his other ear as he straightened his back. Yesterday's rain was still pooling out on the streets under his boots as he was walking back through the staff's door.

Jungkook was silent for a moment too long, the boy knew that it could only mean that he was about to tell him why it was their case after all. It was usually some gruesome reason, something unexplainable or even horrid. Something like…

"He wasn't just missing his wallet. He was missing a liver," his hyung said, quiet, knowing that it said enough.

Taehyun stopped in his tracks, frozen, his fingers gripping the phone tighter. There was no need to be told more. He knew what it meant. He knew what kind of monster lived on livers. The liver of men especially.

"How new is it?"

"Just yesterday. She must still be around," Jungkook said and Taehyun hung up the phone. He threw off his silly apron that served as his work uniform and didn't even bother to properly fold it before shoving it into his locker. He grabbed his backpack and made a run for the metroline heading to Gangnam.

Jungkook texted him the location and details of a police file, a medical report about the organ that was removed as if it was clawed out by an animal. The DNA found from the female hair on his jacket didn't match anyone's in the database as if she didn't even exist but Taehyun knew she did. Foxes don't creep into the busy downtown of Seoul to eat the liver of young and rich guys, not real foxes at least.

Taehyun had been obsessed with gumiho cases over the years, so he knew the pattern: glitter and riches that lured them in, livers going missing during when the moon was the fullest and then nothing. Usually the attacks happened in batches, around one place, the taste of blood made these creatures insatiable. Human liver kept them alive and young, it was easy to get high on that feeling and the boy hoped that it would make the fox careless enough to make a mistake.

A mistake that would help him find her before she would disappear like smoke. Again.

He had spent the night lurking around the murder scene, asking around as if he was just a clueless passerby who had seen the police cordons. He had already gotten used to being treated like a kid and not taken seriously, so it wasn’t surprising that nobody thought it would be harmful to tell him what they knew. He might not have gotten into the fancy clubs and luxurious hotels around to be able to find the girl in red whom the victim had been seen with last night, but little did he know that he didn’t need to try so hard.

"Looking for me?"

A girl singsonged and slid into his booth as he was sitting in a definitely overpriced coffee shop in the area, his table full of newspapers, notebooks and coffee stains across the papers. From an outsider point of view he must have looked like a university student studying overnight for his exam but instead of books and study materials, he was reading about murder cases and folklore.

Taehyun looked up from his phone, his gaze settling on the stranger and her smile, red like berries. She wore all black: tight jeans, turtleneck, leather jacket. Even her nails were dark, her eye makeup cat-like and her hair up in a high ponytail. She looked like a model out of a magazine, or one of those customers at his workplace who thought everything revolved around them, daddy’s little princess.

“Sorry?” He decided to play dumb, just to be safe and the girl smiled like adults smile patiently at children who lie about their wrongdoings.

“You know, I could get you reported for stalking,” she said, drumming on the table with her pretty manicured nails, slowly, calculatingly. Her lowkey threat made the boy raise a brow and put down his phone on the table.

“Then why don’t you?” He wondered out loud like a challenge as he tilted his head. He leaned back in his seat, sliding his right hand into his pocket casually. Fingers touching metal, he contemplated.

The girl smiled at him like a predator and reached over the table, her index finger tapping his chin teasingly. Her touch was cold, it sent shivers down his spine just as much as the look in her dark eyes.

“Because you are pretty,” she said, sounding genuine and Taehyun furrowed his brows. He had never been called pretty, didn’t particularly want to be either but coming from someone who looked as beautiful as her, it was quite a compliment even if it was fake, just sweet words to get onto his good side or even just get some reaction from him. Though, it was certainly an interesting tactic to call guys who were acting suspiciously pretty. She didn’t seem afraid at all and that was what took the boy aback the most.

She giggled when he didn't answer, it was almost pure, childlike as if she had fun. She must have been used to making men breathless with just being. But there he was holding back because he didn't want to make a scene, to sink a dagger into her heart in the middle of a coffee shop and she knew that, that's why she was so reckless.

“Oh, you look surprised. Cat got your tongue? Didn’t expect somebody so pretty like myself? It’s alright, my father didn’t name me Ahreum for no reason,” she noted, her voice tingling gleefully like a chime of bells in the half-empty store, the shadows that the late night drew onto her figure dancing around her like butterfly wings. 

If Taehyun wanted to be honest, he actually didn't expect somebody so human. Some monsters wore human faces – vampires, sirens, shapeshifters – but there was always something off about them, something inhuman – like sharper teeth, glowing eyes, pointy ears – but she looked normal. She was generations old and yet she looked his age, her smile fresh but calculating, her skin immaculate and her eyes, they were the deepest of dark. She didn’t look like a monster. But Taehyun knew better than to trust looks. Especially alluring ones like hers.

“It doesn’t matter how pretty you are,” he said firmly. In the eyes of death, nothing so mortal and earthly mattered.

“Oh, so you admit that you find me pretty,” she smiled a sly smile, very much enjoying the situation as if that was the most important. “But you are lying. It does matter. People always act more generously towards those with a beautiful face no matter how rotten they are inside. Humans are so judgemental, you see, but they only look at the surface, the outside. The gold and glitter and beauty. Prove me wrong if you can.”

Of course, he couldn’t. But Taehyun wasn’t there to talk about philosophy and what it was like to be human. He was hunting down a monster, someone who killed not one but probably hundreds. Someone like the monster that had taken his family away from him. He was there to stop her, yet his hand was frozen over the pocket knife, watching each of her mesmerising moves like a man struck. Sure, he wasn’t used to turning creatures into dust and smoke in front of an audience but who knew when he would have a chance like this again? When would he find her by his own accord? Why did she even seek him out? To tell him he was pretty? It didn’t make any sense. Was she hoping he would give up on the hunt once seeing her just because she was pretty? He wasn’t that generous. Hence he couldn’t figure out her reason.

“What do you want?” So he asked, keeping his eyes on her, not letting any of her glamour cloud his judgement, not even the small, content smile in the corner of her lipstick-stained lips.

“Oh, so straightforward, so boring. I just want to have fun,” The girl sighed, wishful, before she resumed the drumming on the table, over his notes, her fingers slowly crawling over the back of his hand that rested over the wood. Her nails scratched his skin lightly but it burnt, the contact. The grip of Taehyun’s other hand tightened around his knife hidden under the table, in his pocket. She was either unaware or didn’t care. She smiled knowingly.

“A hunter, are you? It's been a while since I met one,” she commented, not waiting for his confirmation. She was talking lightly as if they were discussing the weather and not supernatural matters. Not death. “I don't like them around my prey, you see, your kind makes them anxious. But I do like some excitement. I will give you a clue about my next victim, how does that sound?”

Oh, now she sounded positively thrilled. Her eyes also glowed with something childlike and yet dark. Taehyun was both intrigued and disgusted by her idea of fun.

“It's all just a game for you?” He questioned, sickened and the monster pouted like a kid who couldn’t get the last candy.

"Come on, don’t be such a buzzkill. I have lived long enough, I deserve some fun," Ahreum said, nails digging sharper into the boy’s skin before she let go, her smile devilish like damnation.

"So is it still hunting season?" He asked and her lips twitched.

"It always is. Here’s the clue: I kept my special one for the full moon and you know the fox sister’s tale, right? Then you’ll know where to find me.” 

Her voice was haunting and with that, she was gone. Her musky, sweet perfume was the only thing she left behind and claw marks over Taehyun’s hand.

Like a stigma. Or a target mark.

Taehyun knew the tale of the fox sister but he knew many variations of it. There was no way he could tell which was the closest to the truth and how it could have made it easier for him to find her. She kept mentioning beauty, how much people cared about it and she only killed the rich, spending her free time in luxury. He knew there must have been a hint there, a clue to this game she was playing like a cat playing with the mice before eating.

“What did you say she said her name was?” Jungkook nudged him on the shoulder as he was dozing off while hovering over materials at their dining table which was used for investigations more often than to eat.

Living together made sense after they started hunting down monsters as a team. Taehyun didn’t have anybody left by the time the elder found him. They both came from hunter families, they had known each other since they were children. But Taehyun’s family wanted a normal life for him: normal school, normal friends, normal family activities instead of shooting practices. Look at how it turned out: blood on the table under the moonlight. He had been hot-headed and raging when Jungkook had found him and taken him in, becoming his only family. He had saved him from himself.

“She said her father had named her Ahreum because of her beauty,” he said, looking over his shoulder to see his hyung immersed in a book about Korean historical speculations. He had barely slept since his encounter with the girl from the day before, so he appreciated any help. He was determined to find her before the full moon. Before she would kill again.

“Here, look. Read this,” Jungkook passed the book over and pointed at a passage about the royal family in the 1500s.

Changdeokgung, the secondary royal palace of Joseon since King Taejong’s rule (1400–1418), was vacant over decades as Huwon – known as Secret Garden nowadays – was said to be a haunted place. According to the stories, King Myeongjong’s (1545–1567) beautiful daughter was locked away in one of its residents after the Crown Prince and his brothers had died unexpectedly, leaving the kingdom in aghast. Sources vary about the reason but during those decades the royal household suffered numerous losses in personnel, maids and guards as well, all of them bleeding out. Some suspected a disease that spread from person to person and the reason why the princess could survive was because she was alone. Other sources reported about animal attacks. During these uncertain times, a neighbouring kingdom asked her for the princess’ hand to join their forces but the prince had died on the wedding night. That was when the rumours about Princess Ahreum being the cause of it started. The people of the kingdom demanded her to be executed for sorcery, keeping her youth with others’ blood since she was said to have barely aged even after spending two decades in seclusion. Others believed she was cursed and blamed her for the Japanese invasions under the rule of her cousin, King Seonjo (1567–1608). During the military conflict in 1592, Huwon suffered serious damages by fire and Princess Ahreum was declared dead.

“Animal attacks, huh? And a never-ageing princess? Sound about right,” Taehyun hummed, thinking back on the fox sister’s tale: a man praying for a daughter, even if she was a fox, after three of his sons and in the end, his beautiful daughter killed them all except the eldest brother who managed to kill her with fire. And now, a few hours before moonrise, he knew where to look for her.

Huwon at night was hauntingly beautiful.

The royal garden was a popular tourist attraction, especially among couples due to its romantic scenery but the Palace and its garden were closed for the night, so Taehyun was alone after sneaking into one of the national treasures of his country. It was easier than he expected but he didn't want to get ahead of himself nor feel relief as he walked towards the Pavilion behind the Buyongji pond. He had been there before once, during a school trip about Korean heritage. He remembered playing hide and seek with his friends and in a way, this was the same game after all.

A sick version of it.

The garden was eerily quiet. Each of Taehyun's steps echoed off the trees and old buildings, no matter how careful he moved around. The rocks under his feet and the wind blowing in his face gave him away but there was no sign of the girl. Did he misunderstand her clue? Was she somewhere else or was she here, just hiding, waiting for him to find her, to play the game right?

Suddenly, a shadow moved in the dark. A laughter echoed all around him. He felt goosebumps form on his arm and he drew his dagger out, searching for the girl behind it all.

There she was: on the top of the stars, her silhouette unclear in the calm waters of the pond but her smile dangerous like always.

“Oh, someone’s smart,” she giggled at the compliment, twirling in her pretty white hanbok. Like this, with her midnight hair in waves all over her shoulders and the pearl colored dress sweeping the floor, she really did look like a princess. Beautiful like falling petals during the bloom of the cherry blossoms.

Taehyun expected her to have company. A naiv human on whom she could feed on, but she was all alone, no signs of any other living being around them: just her, him and–

“But… you brought a friend. Too bad. I thought it would be just us two,” the girl pouted, sounding genuinely disappointed. Then she moved so fast, Taehyun could barely follow it with his eyes, let alone stop her when she dragged Jungkook out of his observation place behind the Pavilion as if he was nothing but a ragdoll.

"Nobody taught you it's rude to spy on others?" She tsked and when Jungkook raised an arm to strike down on her with an iron arrow, she grabbed onto his wrist with one hand and his neck with the other. Then she simply broke the arrow in two, taking its pointy head and dove it to his chest.

It all happened too quickly, Taehyun was still running up the stairs when Jungkook's knees gave in and he fell on the ground, blood dripping from the wound on his chest to the dirty ground of the Garden that had seen so many ruthless rulers.

Ahreum chuckled again, her palm painted carmine from blood as she wiped it into her snow white dress, ruining it just how murder dirtied innocence. Taehyun didn't think; he acted on impulse and adrenaline as he ran up to her and pushed her against the stone wall, away from his hyung's struggling body with a knife against her throat threateningly.

"What do you want?" He asked, hoarsely, and she smiled a wicked smile that sent shivers down his spine as it reminded him more of a wolf's snarl than anything.

"You, pretty boy, I want to eat you all up," she said, giggling like a maniac and licking her already burgundy lips. Taehyun pushed the blade more into the soft skin of her neck but she didn't seem that affected as her blood-coated fingers toyed with his jawline.

"You are a monster," the boy spat, praying that his hyung could hold on for a bit more.

"Am I?" The fox princess tilted her head, thinking, her grip growing firmer. "I am what I was made to be. It's not like I ever had a choice. My father made a deal with the devil, so he had it coming. But me? If I am the punishment for his greed, why am I punished, too?"

Taehyun had no good answer for that. He never thought that these creatures had it in themselves to feel like they were being punished. To him, it seemed like their existence was the penalty for humanity’s avarice and he never chit-chatted more with any to think otherwise. The vampires, sirens and goblins he had met before were all more eager to kill him than to talk about their lives’ meaning and purpose with him.

“You always have a choice,” the hunter boy reminded her firmly.

To kill was always a choice, even if made under pressure and one had to be able to accept the consequences of their decisions. Yet, the princess didn’t seem to like his answer. Her nails turned into claws and harshly ripped the thin skin of his jaw as she pushed him away. The impact of it sent him to the ground and in a moment, she was crawling all over him, her pretty albeit stained hanbok spreading like a tainted halo around them. She held his wrists on the ground with an inhuman force, her animalistic features coming to surface.

“Should I tear the liver out of your friend’s body? Should I feed on it?” She hissed between her teeth and licked her lips as she glanced over at Jungkook’s unconscious body. “A hunter would make a delicious treat for my 1000th victim. I admit, I thought it would be you but I’m not picky.”

Oh. So he was supposed to be the special one, her next victim. So the clue wasn’t a clue at all, it was a trap and he walked right into it with his hyung following in suit. 

“Do you know the ancient rule, don’t you?” Ahreum spoke up in a conversational tone as if she hadn’t just threatened to kill the person who was the closest he had to a family. As if it didn’t matter to her. It probably didn’t. Not with her killing her own family. “My kind turns human after the 1000th human liver. I could finally be something I should have been to begin with. And yet, I’m curious: would you kill me? Even if I wasn’t a monster anymore but a human? For what? Killing your friend to become one? Can you really blame me for not wanting to be like this?”

Yes, Taehyun did hear the myth but he didn’t think it was true. He didn’t think monsters could turn human and even if they did, it wouldn’t overrule what they had done. She had still killed thousands of people for their livers and who knows how much more just out of spite.

“Even if you lose your fox-abilities, it doesn’t automatically make you human,” so he said, standing his ground, gritting his teeth, not caring about the blood dripping down his neck nor her hands smearing the dirt all over his skin.

“Tell me then, pretty boy, what makes a monster to begin with? That they have horns and fangs? Or that they kill?” The princess laughed, amused and wicked. “You act all so mighty but in reality, you are doing the same and you are not doing this for the world’s sake. You do this for yourself. For revenge. So selfish.”

Taehyun hissed at the pressure applied to his chest, at the claws digging into his bloodlines, at the words cutting in deep, hitting exactly where it hurt. He really had gotten back into the hunting business to get revenge on his family and he indeed had a personal vengeance against her kind but at least, he didn’t hurt innocent people.

“You are one to talk. You don’t even have a soul, nothing that could be saved,” he spat because it was clear from how she treated others, like they were dirt under the sole of her shoe. She was self-centred, she only cared about her rights and needs without a care of whom she had to trample over to get those. But there was almost more to meet the eye.

“That’s what you tell yourself to be able to sleep at night? That we don’t have a soul? What? Do you think we miraculously lose what makes us human the moment we become like this? Or you think we are born without a soul to begin with? And if we do, whose fault is that? It’s not like I asked to be like this. You do know my kind would die if we didn’t feed on humans, right? So what right do you have to judge me when humans kill just because they can and not for survival? At the end of the day, aren’t we all just animals in this kingdom?” She whispered with a smirk in the corner of her mouth.

Her perfect white teeth turned to pointy ones, four long canines as she bared them to him to prove a point. Taehyun pushed against her in the attempt to shove her down from him but she was too strong. No matter all those hours spent in the gym, the gumiho’s strength was supernatural and he knew that his only chance was to outsmart her but before he could have distracted her attention enough to free one of his hands, a sudden noise of pocket lighter clicking drew their attention.

"Oh look, he's still alive. A tenacious one, huh?" The girl looked up, the corners of her lips curling up in an impressed grimace.

Turning his head, Taehyun saw his hyung getting up from the ground, holding a hand over his bleeding wound and the lit lighter in the other. They both knew the story of the fox and the fire but watching the flame mirrored in Ahreum orbs, the young hunter wasn’t sure she was afraid at all. After all, somehow she survived the great fire of the Japanese destruction.

But then her eyes widened in surprise and Taehyun knew it was his moment. Without knowing what Jungkook was about to do, he used the girl’s distraction to yank his arms out of her hold and roll out from under her body, grabbing the knife he dropped from the floor. Just as he stumbled to his feet did he see that Jungkook had retrieved his crossbow and lit the next arrowhead on fire, then he took a shot. Ahreum had to jump out of the burning arrow’s way with a hiss. The metal head pierced into the Pavilion’s walls, the painted wood catching light like sugar that was caramelised over the heat.

After seeing his hyung wave at him to go, Taehyun followed the girl as she slipped inside the building. The old dusty smell and darkness of it reminded him of an attic of a home, of hide and seek games played by kids, but now with a knife in hand and a monster hiding, it wasn’t like a game anymore.

“I hate your kind,” Ahreum yelled at him from the shadows, her voice full of blame and hatred. “They had come like this, you know? They came and called me a witch; they wanted me to burn. They heard me scream and they laughed. Aren’t they monsters too then?”

The fox princess’ voice turned into sobs and the flames ate up the walls of the Pavilion and the moonlight shone through the blazing red of fire and the grey smoke. She coughed and tripped, breaking an expensive ancient vase into pieces as she was in hurry to find another escape. But Taehyun was faster in finding her in the middle of shattered ceramics, her hanbok blood red from the rising fire, its heat urging the boy to act too.

When he dove the knife into the gumiho’s heart, he didn’t feel anything. No regret, no guilt. She gasped, coughing up blood, crimson sliding down her pale neck from the corner of her mouth. The dark fluid spread all over her pretty white dress like a blooming red rose. But then Taehyun looked into her eyes, at the tears rolling down her cheeks and his hold on the knife loosened.

“Please, I don't want to die like this,” she pleaded, looking frightened with her big doe eyes, so unlike the sharp fox-like predator from before. She looked like daddy’s precious little princess and for a moment, he considered it all: whether she would have turned out the same if she wasn’t treated like a monster from the start, whether she was right about what made monsters…

Was he becoming a monster, too? The thought haunted him, but it was a mistake.

Using his hesitation to her advantage, the princess grabbed a sharp-edged broken ceramic piece from the floor and jabbed it into his abdomen, tearing skin right above his liver. His warm blood coated her fingers and she licked it with a wicked smile, amusement playing in the corner of her mouth even still.

“You humans… are the most monstrous of all,” she rasped as she reached for Taehyun’s hand over the knife’s handle, unhooking his fingers one by one. “But you know what? I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

With flames reaching high, just like almost half a millennium ago, Huwon was burning and a white fox disappeared into the woods like smoke in the night.

[pars-ley]

hi! i just came across your page the other day and i’ve read all of your drabbles and stories multiple times lol! so for my ask, i would love it if you did a college AU with popularjock!jk and have it be similar to the movie ‘A Cinderella Story’. some angst with smut and a happy ending if possible! oh and bestfriendjimin! as well :) hope this is not too much to request! ily

At the stroke of Midnight

Pairing: Jungkook x f reader

Summary: One popular boy + One 'uncool' girl + One school dance + One necklace left behind = A cinderella story.

Genre: Angst / Fluff / Smut / Cinderella au / A Cinderella story au / comedy / popular jock jungkook / best friend Jimin

Warnings: Suggestive language / sex 

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Word Count: 4k

Beta reader: @casuallyimagining

A/N: I am so sorry this has taken me so long! I had no clue about this film, so writing this entailed some research and me watching the movie...twice haha. I really hope I did it justice for you and you enjoy it. Thank you for the request!

"So, what's prince charming saying now that's so much more important than your best friend?" Jimin pouts, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

You flush slightly. "He wants to meet." Grimacing at the words.

"And that's a problem, why?" 

You bury your head in your hands. "Because I'm me and I'm certainly no one special, what if he's disappointed?" You groan, the dilemma churning your gut and making you feel like your breakfast could make a second appearance.

"Hey," Jimin scoots closer to you along the bench and throws an arm around your shoulder. "No best friend of mine gets away with speaking about herself like that. You are lovely, and if he thinks you're anything other than amazing, there's something wrong with him and he needs to be studied in a lab." 

You laugh in spite of yourself, hearing Jimin’s words rattle around in your brain, knowing that you should not be this hard on yourself. You lean into his snug embrace.

You open up Tumblr and stare at the conversation between you and @gameoverguk. Your favourite gaming blog you’ve followed for ages, by chance seeing your gaming fan art and following you back was one thing, but conversing with him and finding out that he also attended your school was a completely different matter. Trying to solve the equation of who this mysterious creator might be is harder than you thought. And the way he converses with you, so open and honest and sweet, that had to narrow it down surely?

Something slams into your back, pain immediately in its wake. You and Jimin turn to see the popular boy of your university, Jungkook, gawking at you and his best friend Taehyung in hysterics. 

Jimin looks down in the grass behind you at the offending apple and calls, “Hey, watch it guys.”

“Really sorry!” Jungkook calls over, a slight dusting of scarlet across his cheeks but looks like he’s also fighting a laugh. It burns you how someone so smug can still be so handsome, and you hate yourself for even thinking about him in any way other than the airhead jock that he is. 

Taehyung jogs over and picks it up, still somewhat amused. “What, didn’t your crystal ball tell you that was gonna happen?” He says to you, loud enough for everyone in a mile radius to hear.

You cringe inwardly, attempting to fight your embarrassment.

“Aren’t you supposed to be one of the top athletes in this university? And you can’t even catch an apple.” Jimin snarks in your defense.

His face drops as he looks like he’s about to take a step towards you both.

“Tae!” Jungkook calls, an air of command in his voice, breaking the tense air as he looks away from you ruefully. Walking off with Taehyung following, eating his apple and laughing between bites.

“Ignore them.” Jimin says sternly. “Speaking of, are you working tonight?”

Your face falls into an unamused expression, as if he even had to ask.

You were working so much you were almost taking residence at your step-mums 'magic shop', as everyone called it.

He smiles at you, his nose wrinkling, and you can’t help your face softening.

“Ok, ok, my bad. Can I swing by later? I need some more incense.”

You shrug, grabbing your bag and chucking it over your shoulder. “Sure. I’d be glad of the company to be honest.”

“Ooooh, maybe we could do a seance?” 

You glare at him and head off to class causing his melodious laugh to ring out around you.

Sitting in the bleachers after class, with your sketchpad and pencil, the perfect view of the city line and the departing sun staring back at you, you sketch away. The pencil etching fast across your paper as you manage to block out the sounds of the team practicing and their bodies crashing against each other.

Long after you've lost yourself in your landscape, fingers grey and shiny from shading, you neglect to hear some of the team members leaving, climbing over the seats and headed in your direction. That is until your pad is snatched from underneath you as you frantically grapple for it, without success.

"You know, this isn't where the nerds hang out." Taehyung smirks at his two other buddies, clearly impressed with himself.

You let out a bored sigh. "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize you owned the bleachers." Your words drip with sarcasm. 

His face drops and a mean glare spreads across his features as he throws your drawing pad in the air. You watch helplessly as the pages flutter in the wind as it flies away and disappears under the stands. 

"Have a nice night." He says quietly, an attempt to be intimidating, as him and his friends leave.

Your veins alight with fury, hands balled into fists at your sides. You wanted to stamp your feet like a petulant child. This isn't fair. Why you?

It's only then you notice Jeon Jungkook standing on the field watching. Embarrassment suddenly extinguishes your angry flames as he breaks your gaze first, walking off under the bleachers. You grab your bag to leave for work before you suffer any more humiliation.

As you reach the last step you yelp with surprise as Jungkook appears suddenly in your view, you manage to steel yourself before tumbling into him.

You stare at him, wishing he'd get on with it and tease you so you can go...but it doesn't come. Instead he hands you your sketchpad, gently dusting off the pages.

You take it, a hesitant, "thanks," ghosts from your lips.

"I'm sorry about him." He says quietly.

You shrug. "Not your fault, I guess."

Seconds tick by as you both stare awkwardly at each other, unsure what else could be said.

"You're pretty. I-I mean, it-it's pretty." He stammers, tapping the unfinished sketch in your book. "You're very talented." 

Your cheeks flush an undignified fuchsia as you duck your head slightly, letting your hair hide you. "Thank you."

He offers you a weak smile before giving you a halfhearted wave and jogging off across the field, leaving you watching his back, perplexed at the exchange you've had.

You stare at your messages, every moment he can see you're online and not replying makes your cheeks flush crimson and makes your mind run frantic.

Meet me at the Happy Holidays dance.

Could you?

It’s the first holiday dance your university has put on--one you had no intention of going to, because you frankly didn't need the added teasing from the popular kids. It is a masquerade ball however, so no one had to know it was you, you could fall pleasantly under the radar.

Were you really considering this? 

What did you have to lose? You can hide behind the comfort of your mask. If he discovers it's you, it's his problem if he doesn't like that, Jimin is absolutely right.

Ok. Where will I find you?

You press send and chuck your phone down, throwing your head in your pillow to scream. Did you actually just do that!? No taking it back now, it's out there. 

When you hear your text tone sound you scramble quickly back to it.

By the old sundial outside. At 10.00?

You grin dorkishly at your phone, typing a quick reply.

Sure. See you then.

You call your number one speed dial, two rings in and Jimin's voice sounds. 

"I was just going to call you, how strange. Listen, do you remember that time I-?"

"I'm in need of some urgent assistance. I just agreed to go to the holiday dance!"

He cackles excitedly on the other end. "I'll be right over!"

As you step out of Jimin's car you have to lift your ice blue dress up to avoid the floor...and tripping. How Jimin pulled this costume together in time, you'll never know, he's taking that secret to the grave. 

You swallow the nervous lump in your throat and adjust your matching lace mask, making sure it's comfortable.

"Ok, go get him tiger." He roars, as he swipes a clawed hand in front of you.

You giggle at his silly antics and take a deep breath before giving him a final nod and heading into the dance.

From the moment you walk in, you want to go home. This is a bad idea. He won't be interested when he finds out it's really you.

You have no time to continue your anguished thoughts as you get swept up in the crowd, fighting your way through to grab a drink. Standing to the side and surveying everyone's costumes, noticing a lot of dark or bright colour choices, you being one of the only people in a pale colour, making you stand out more. Something you were definitely hoping to avoid.

A few songs later and the clock in the hall catches your eye, noticing you had fifteen minutes until you meet your mystery man.

You head outside, footsteps echoing along the cobbled floor, and see that the outside is empty save for a few smoking and talking. 

You get to the large, metal sundial and wait. Stomach churning from the butterflies that swarm wildly inside. 

"Blue hour artist?" You hear your Tumblr tag spoken behind you and freeze. 

You're about to meet him, come face to face with the person who understands you more than anyone, who opens up to you in ways most people wouldn't and who's creativity knows no bounds.

You turn slowly, not knowing who to expect but definitely not who you're faced with.

"Jeon Jungkook!? You're 'game over guk'?" You ask, your mouth popped open in shock.

He smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "that's not fair, you're wearing a mask. How will I know who you are?" 

You stare at him, trying to find words to answer his question, but the fact that it's him stood before you blows you away.

How could this be? The person you've been talking to online is the complete opposite to Jungkook and yet, here he is, one and the same.

"You'll h-have to guess." You try to get yourself together.

His mouth stretches into a toothy smile. "Ok, how about we play '21 questions' to help me guess?"

You nod, playing with your fingernails out of nerves.

"Do you want to sit down?" He asks, looking over at one of the benches.

"Um, no, I'd rather walk, if you don't mind?" 

"Oh, sure." He agrees eagerly and you head off down the pathway around the building. 

A few awkward side glances between the two of you and he finally asks, "Do we have any classes together?"

"No." 

"Ok, narrows it down slightly."

You take this opportunity to look at what he's wearing and he's every part the Prince charming. In a white satin shirt, with light blue trousers and a one shoulder half capelet to match, complete with silver, trim detail. Surprisingly similar to your choice of dress, what a strange coincidence.

"You take art I assume?" He asks, into the comfortable silence.

You nod. "That's an obvious one." You refer to your Tumblr page full of your fan art and projects.

He smiles bashfully and your stomach flips at the sight, feeling like a true-life Disney princess with heart eyes and birds singing above your head.

"I don't know many girls in art." He admits,

 "Ok, what about outside uni, do you go to any popular hangouts?"

Your cheeks flush, knowing you're admitting how dorky and uncool you are. "Nope."

"Ok, harder than I thought." He laughs, revealing his perfect teeth again. "Do you have a job?"

Nodding again, you play with the hem of your lace sleeve, channeling your nerves into the action.

As you're about to answer, your heel gets stuck in between the paving stone, causing you to buckle. Panic strikes you. You cannot fall over and embarrass yourself! Not when finding out who you are will be embarrassing enough. Luckily, you steady yourself against a nearby lamppost before falling on your face but at the cost of leaving your shoe stuck in the ground.

You tuck your leg up under your dress, steadying yourself against the street light, directly underneath the assaulting brightness, illuminating you like a spotlight.

Jungkook rushes over to your lonesome blue stiletto and retrieves it before crouching on one knee in front of you.

You stare at him, eyes wide and alarmed by his sudden closeness as he holds out your shoe in the most sincere way.

You bring your foot down and arch it back into its rightful holster. As you do, his fingertips graze your ankle, sending a flush of heat cascading up your body and neck, stopping only at your hairline. 

He lingers there, looking up at you with huge doe eyes, but with a severe intensity you've never noticed from him before. 

His fingers skate up your leg slightly as he rises, sending a delicious shiver through you. His fingers tips hint at your hand, you yearn to reach out and hold it, as he stands mere centimeters away from you. His intoxicating scent swirling around you like your own personal hurricane, taking your composed state and tearing through it, leaving it whimpering weakly on the ground. His face is too close to yours and yet not close enough. You feel feverish from his proximity and yet you need him closer to sate your heat.

Your breast vibrates from the aggressive pounding of your heart. Having him here on his knees in front of you, something not even acceptable in your wildest dreams and yet, here he is. 

The person you've gotten to know so well, such a contrast to the person you've seen around campus. But then again, he seems to like the person he's gotten to know too, maybe he won't be as disappointed when he realises who you are? Maybe you can kid yourself into thinking that.

A chiming sounds in the distance, barely there and yet it creeps further into your subconscious.

"Your phone is ringing." He whispers, his breath tickling your face, as his eyes still blaze into yours.

'My phone. My phone? Oh, my phone!' Your muddled thoughts clear themselves enough for you to understand his words. You pull it out of your little silver handbag and see Jimin's number on screen.

"Hello?" You ask, staring dreamily at Jungkook who is rooted firmly in his spot.

"Ok, I apologise if you're throat-deep around prince charming’s dick but I really need to make it home before midnight so my dad doesn't turn me into a pumpkin...and by that I mean, pounded, pulped and pressed into pumpkin pie." 

You snap out of it suddenly, realising Jimin's words and not wanting him to get in trouble because of you. "Of course. I'm coming, right now."

Jungkook's eyes flit back to reality with a deep frown. His hand clasps yours as you hang up and tuck your phone back into your bag. Your legs, already moving towards the front entrance where he would be waiting.

"Wait," Jungkook's pleading pierces right into your chest, feeling your resolve bubble up to the surface, enticing you to stay and see where the night takes you. But you don't.

"I can't, I have to go." You say, gently slipping your hand from his and jogging elegantly to the front parking lot.

When you see Jimin's dads silver Rolls Royce, you're suddenly eager to get in and share your news.

"So...did you meet him!?" An excited Jimin shakes your arm as you close the door behind you.

"Yes. You will never guess who he is." You fasten your belt and Jimin pulls off quickly, both of you wincing as he narrowly misses a barrier post on the way out of the campus.

"Who?" 

You smile to yourself, heart fit to burst. "Jeon Jungkook."

Jimin's foot taps on the brakes, lurching you forward.

"I'm sorry. What?" He turns to you, eyes wider than you've ever seen them. "As in, popular boy, sex god Jungkook?"

You scoff. "Who told you he was a sex god?"

"I'm making assumptions. I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." He grins as he elbows you in the ribs and sets off driving you home, while excitement rapidly blooms inside you.

You dropped your necklace.

You read the words over and over, unsure what your response should be. You needed that necklace. The simple silver chain holding the tiny teardrop pearl. It was all you had left of your dad. When he died, your step-mother sold most of his things, including gifts he bought for you. This was your last, most cherished item. The only reason you were allowed to keep it is that you were wearing it at the time and you haven't taken it off since. Losing it had your chest aching. You stared at Jungkook's last message until sleep over took you.

Monday morning. Eyes gritty and burning, you wake to the sea of sleep trying to entice you back to its darkening depths but you fight your fluttering eyelids and get ready for a new day.

How are you going to look at Jungkook now? You should tell him who you are. Yes, you'll do that and get your necklace back and it'll be happily ever after. 

Only it won't.

From your experience happily ever after doesn't happen for most people, even accomplished, brilliant, beautiful people. You're entirely average and ordinary, why would it happen for you?

By the time you get to campus, your manic mind has been changed numerous times. You decide to wait until you see him, which you spend every moment of your arrival scanning the faces that pass you.

"Hey, hey, Jelly Bean. Looking for me?" Jimin's cheerful face comes into full view, distracting you.

He's clearly unimpressed with whatever expression you're portraying currently, as he pouts and turns to the sea of faces. "Clearly, I no longer matter, now you've got big dick Jungkook."

You hush him loudly, looking around to ensure there were no listening ears. "Firstly, I'm begging you, stop talking about his dick and secondly, stop being stupid."

He laughs at your stressed rant. "Ok, ok, jeez. Is he meeting you this morning?"

Your body tenses, knowing, already hearing the lecture he's about to scold you with.

"You didn't tell him, did you? He still has no idea it's you!?" He sighs, throwing his hands in the air dramatically, typical Jimin fashion. "I swear to god...If you don't tell him, I will."

Your head snaps over to him as you walk side by side into the building, glaring menacingly in his direction. "You wouldn't dare."

He shrugs. "Try me, scaredy cat."

You huff and scrub at your tired eyes. "Let me just get through my classes then we shall discuss this."

He laughs as he tussles your hair and heads off in the opposite direction.

Your day passes fairly quickly, even though your struggle to stay awake during lectures only grows.

You do not see Jungkook, which is not unusual as you're not even in the same wings of the building most of the time.

Jimin's frantic waving has you puzzled as a deep frown creases your brow as you walk towards him, his jumping and pointing most unusual. It's only when you see a set of hands directly in front of you and feel your necklace land on your chest as it's draped across your collar bones, that you stop in your tracks. 

Those hands, warm at the back of your neck and a mouth next to your ear saying, "I told you I'd look after it and return it." Unmistakably Jungkook's voice whispers in your ear making you quiver.

When his hands are gone you look down and find relief washing over you with the familiar feel of your necklace, having felt bare and empty without it.

"Why didn't you reply to my messages?" He asks, stepping in front of you with a big bunny smile.

Wide eyed with shock, your mouth gapes open with the slow realization that he is, in fact, talking to you. "How-how did you…" Words fail you as you frantically think of any way you might have let slip your identity but coming up empty.

"How did I know it was you?" He asks, mouth pulled on one side in a smile. "When you dropped your necklace as you left the dance, I recognized it instantly. "

"Wh-what?" You squeak out. You attempt to swallow your confusion enough to form a coherent sentence. "On what planet would someone like you notice anything about someone like me."

A look of hurt flashes across his face, almost as if you'd slapped him as he takes a step towards you, a hair's width away now. "How could I not notice you? You're beautiful and smart, you don't follow the crowd and you're kind to everyone, I've noticed everything the last two years. I've just never spoken to you properly because….well...what do I have to offer someone like you, with endless talents and interests, a charming personality to boot and just when I think that's all there is, I discover something else about you. I'm just the school jock, popularity gets me opportunities, I don't have to work hard for anything...I feel...inferior to you. Worthless."

Your heart aches, hearing the words you feel escaping his mouth. How could that be possible? How on earth could he be so utterly mistaken, so completely wrong about himself?

"But gameoverguk is nothing like that person you're describing. If that's truly who you are?" You question quietly.

He nods, placing a finger under your chin and tilting your head up to him.

"Hi, I'm Jeon Jungkook, I'm a gamer geek, I'm good at sports, I enjoy bike rides on the weekend and finding new food spots and I'd really like to take you out sometime...if you'll let me."

You feel your lips stretch into an undeniable grin. "Nice to finally meet you Jungkook. I'd love to."

As you aim the plastic machine gun, keeping it steady in your armpit and pointed towards the screen, you and Jungkook race through the game, taking down your enemies at every chance. When your team name, "Blue Hour Gamer" flashes in neon letters on screen as the winners, your hollering and hooting fill the arcade. 

You don't even care that people are watching, not when you jump up and high five each other or when that high five turns into a hug, or when that hug very quickly turns into a kiss. You don't care.

You pull away quickly, embarrassment finding its way to dust your cheeks scarlet. Until you feel his hand press your lower back to him, your bodies crushing together and moving in perfect sync, making their own rhythm and inviting you to sing with it.

Heat blazes inside you like a wildfire, capturing everything else in its path and turning into thoughtless ash in the wind. Nothing else mattered, just him, his lips against yours, his hands on your skin, caressing so gently and yet setting your skin aflame.

Before you knew it, you were at his small, studio apartment, realising you had no clue he lived alone but thankful for that just the same.

When your back finds the bed, you sink into it, disappearing into a cloud of euphoria as he roams your body, slow and meaningful. Every touch makes you feel things you never have before, and every movement brings you closer to the edge of the precipice. 

The way his mouth feels on you as he explores your body sends sparks of electricity racing through you. The way he feels inside you with each perfect, controlled movement lights you up like the sunrise after dark, warming you with its rays as you stare off the cliff edge and brace yourself for the impact. His hand caresses your cheek as he looks deeply into your eyes, something so sweet and pure in the action that your chest swells with emotion. His forehead touches yours as he moves in perfect time with your pounding heart. Suddenly you're falling, everything going past in a rush before crashing onto a sea of ecstasy, writhing and moaning until your climax subsides and his has joined in unison.

A tender kiss on your head, his arm winding around you, pulling you to him and encasing you in the perfect safety net is enough. Maybe he'll be your happily ever after, after all.

[yeolsaintlaurent]

Hi my lovelies~ Wow, it's been a while since I've been here. Let me start of by thanking you all for reading and liking my stories.

It's been a hot minute since new fic updates, and I am so sorry about that. A lot has happened these past two months in my life that had kept me super busy and left my mind scrambled. Started of with our sweet kitten having had to undergo a premature 'fixing' due to a pregnancy scare, and then on to me starting a new part-time gig which I had to unfortunately quit due to toxic co-workers.(aaaaand....it was something I had been looking forward to since september :((( damn..) I had cut myself off from social media, my friends, and kinda just kept to myself these past two months. A trip back to the city I lived in while I was at uni proved to be exactly the refresher I needed. I met up with my friends, roamed around my old haunts, even bought a trinket at the store I used to adore but never set foot in. It felt like a breath of fresh air, that I didn't even know I needed.

Ah, I ranted on for too long. To cut to the chase, I had drafted up a schedule for fic uploads which would help me stay on top of chapters. Please expect new chapters for Nocturnal Reverie and CVMF.

I am currently pausing requests as I would like to focus on the series for the time being, although this decision may be subject to change. Thank you again, my lovely readers~

Yours ever, April

[the-wolf-who-kissed-the-moon]

• Lady Dimitrescu x female reader 💋

• WARNINGS: Explicit horror elements, gore, mentions of blood, minor character death, sapphic love.

glass angel, part XVI.

There’s no true limits to existence, only one-way thresholds which, once passed, never open again.

Small, frosty kisses tickled your limbs, melting into the unnatural heath of your skin. Your body felt weightless, a ghastly shape in the dunes of pristine snowflakes piling atop of graves and tombstones. As if woken from a profound sleep, you fluttered your eyes and suddenly pushed yourself to sit up in the bed of snow.

It must’ve been dusk; heavy, gray clouds hung low over familiar hills and pine tops, blurring the line between the sky and the ground. Lightheaded, you shifted about until your knees dug deep into the frozen soil. Beneath yourself was a pile of dry, colorless flowers and a rusty lamp with a single, half-burnt candle. The cross impaled into the grave appeared familiar, albeit old and damaged by harsh Romanian winds. A name, a person – your heart ached, yet you could not recall who it was, only that you used to visit her plenty times before. The memory was too fuzzy, like a tangled ball of yarn which only tightened the more you tried to loosen it.

You carefully stood, turning away from the grave. The hem of your long, white dress carved circles in the snow as you spun, confused, struggling to decipher where exactly you were. Rural houses sat perked on white hills, peeking at you through hollow windows. They, too, appeared familiar, yet not enough to stir a clear remembrance within you. Everything seemed to be part of a dream, of a former life, something you vaguely might recall at dawn. The snow, however, was palpable and real, dazzling beneath the half-moon rising. You knew it should’ve felt cold, yet your skin was unperturbed by its icy touch, and so you gazed at it in awe until ghastly howls ripped through the placid stillness of the night.

Suddenly, the ground shook with the weight of beastly feet stomping through the fields. You caught a glimpse of deformed, Frankenstein-like creatures scraping the roofs of whatever dilapidated houses still stood upright. Ahead of them were armed men, some falling prey to the slobbering mouths of their pursuers, others shattering the eerie silence with loud bullets. And though the scene unveiled right before you, it appeared oneiric itself, as if you were naught but a spectator to a midnight horror show. That is, until you locked eyes with one particular young man.

He froze momentarily and called out to you, an unfamiliar name leaving his bruised lips. Although you couldn’t remember clearly, you felt as if it was your name; or, the name of a dream version of you which no longer existed in this plane. A rain of bullets illuminated the sky, painting abandoned homes in dark entrails and crimson blood. The putrid scent of death lingered in the air as the war temporarily died down, leaving only one man standing. Your eyes met again, his own full of relief and exhilaration, yours vacant as if you were a porcelain doll.

“O-oh God… I knew it!! I knew I’d find you! God, do you have any idea h-how much…” He stuttered from the cold and raw excitement as he embraced you tightly to his chest. “…how much I… I-… God I was so scared… so scared…”

Emotion threatened to spill from his beautiful eyes as he gazed at you with such love that your own heart nearly burst with joy. Once upon a former life, you surely must’ve known him too. The poor, sweet young man shuddered with cold from head to toe, yet he shrugged his coat off and wrapped you in its warmth. The scent was familiar, too.

“A-are you alright? Did you… get hurt? B-bitten?” His teeth chattered, but you couldn’t find your voice to answer. A terrifying symphony of howls and screeches echoed throughout the land, announcing the arrival of yet another hellish army. Both of you stood very still, his attention all over your surroundings whilst yours was affixed on a worn-out piece of wood. On it was written – Castle Dimitrescu.

Dimitrescu…

Alcina Dimitrescu.

The image of The Countess came back to you as clear as a dew drop on clover leaves. Sweet rose perfume filled your lungs, setting your skin ablaze, rousing a dance of butterflies in your chest. Her voice, a low rumble, reverberated in your heart, reviving the blood within your veins.

“H-hey! Let’s go! Let’s get outta here, those things ar-“

“Shhh…”

You tempered the fright in the youth’s lovely eyes. Forthwith, he appeared so frail and meek as you held his feverish cheeks in between your palms. Perhaps you did remember him. A man you once loved, who couldn’t sleep a wink since you disappeared, unaware that the woman he’d been looking for had died long ago. You were naught but a shell, emptied of humanity and filled with sin and forbidden hungers.

“I’m not the one you’re looking for.”

You murmured gently whilst you caressed the swollen skin beneath his eyes. The haunting sound of ravenous mouths grew louder and nearer, and as you glanced at your feet you realized Lycans had already eaten his body. Only his head, frozen in terror, remained cradled in your dainty palms. Your white dress became heavy with blood, the snow around you melting in a crimson puddle. You watched in a haze as the hybrid monsters scattered, each carrying a body part in their gruesome mouths.

“Sleep well…”

You whispered as you pressed a kiss to the young man’s gaping mouth and delicately wrapped his head in his coat. With a last touch you closed his eyes and left him by the grave of your late grandmother to rest in merciful, eternal life. The candle was now burning dimly, a flame produced by the warmth of your undead touch, never to die unless you died a second time.

“Hai acasă, draga mea… Hai, iubire…”

Come home, my dear… come, love…

You followed that gracious voice through broken trunks and endless mountains of ice. Roots seemed to shrink and hide into the frozen ground, letting you pass as you navigated the Carpathian labyrinth. At the end of it, Castle Dimitrescu stood menacing and imperial, looming over the pitiful village you’ve left behind. And at its gate, the seductive matron awaited with an elegant cigarette pressed to her dark rose lips.

Alcina…

Her eyes were like two beads of gold, shimmering brilliantly in the thick fog.

“What am I?...”

Softly you inquired as you followed the gleam of her predatory gaze. Frost evaporated beneath your feet, sizzling, leaving the ground dry and cracking with heat. A fire burned within you; one born of passion and unnatural elements alike. Like a Phoenix you rose again, beckoned by The Lady’s charms, leaving your human ashes behind to be reborn as something you’ve yet to comprehend.

“You are…” Alcina begun, her mouth like dark rose petals behind the cloud of her satin smoke. “…a thousand times more beautiful, a thousand times more powerful, and…”

“… and?” You echoed demurely, with arms outstretched to welcome her familiar embrace.

The Madam leaned down, enveloping you in her rich perfume and the powerful hold of her arm. Your bare feet no longer touched the snow as she stood to her impressive height, cradling you high above the ground. Up close, her beauty was disarming.

“…and you are my bride.”

She sealed the promise with a deep kiss, at last. You easily surrendered, like many times before, forgetful of the life you’ve left behind; like a glass angel in the deadly claws of the devil.

That’s where you were always fated to be.

- End.

[cognacdelights]

john b being your sloppy new years kiss

It was a safe bet to say that you weren't sober. There several shots of tequila and the God-knows-how-many cheap bottles of beer coursing through your veins had significantly lowered your inhibitions and blurred your drunken senses. Your surroundings had morphed into one continuous haze of flickering bonfire flames and intoxicated partygoers as the tinny echoes of the portable speaker filled the background with a heavy, thumping baseline.

As the united cheering of the infamous New Years countdown bellowed above the idle chattering and pounding music, you felt a strong and burly arm rest atop your shoulders. You couldn't focus your clouded vision enough to peer sideways, but you recognised the musty, sandalwood cologne as being your best friend, John B's. You allowed yourself to melt into his comforting embrace, your shoulder leaning ever so gently into his side. An ecstatic, drunken smile curled the corners of your lips upwards as you inevitable joined in with the countdown, "three... two... one."

As the clock stroked midnight, and the old bell tower chimed on cue, an eruption of vibrant fireworks illuminated the midnight sky. Bursts of bright white, magenta, crimson, coral, and cerulean filled the dark, cloudless heavens above. It was a truly mesmerising moment, and coupled with your sudden rush of intoxication, one that lead to the most unexpected moments of your life.

Your painted fingertips clawed onto his unbuttoned, pattern-printed shirt as your feet moved to stand parallel to his. Your body pressed flush against his own, the sculpted plains of his muscles grazing against your stomach. Your hazy vision ever so slightly made out the peach-toned curves of his lips. Your own lips brushed against the aforementioned lips with a featherlight touch. Your wandering hands combed roughly through his long, brunette locks. Your lips parting ever so slightly as his rough, domineering tongue demanded entry.

It was hot; it was inhibitionless; it was something that felt so unbelievably right down in the depths of your core. An inextinguishable flame was lit in the very pit of your stomach as his warm palms explored your silhouette with an instinctive ease, and his tongue wickedly stroked against your own. A low, sultry groan crawled it's way out from the very back of his throat as your tugged ever so gently on the tousled ends of his hair, before beginning your long descent from the silky roots once more.

You weren't entirely sure how long the two of you were engrossed in one another's affectionate embrace, but when you reluctantly retreated from the salacious kiss in need of a breath of air the loud, eclectic bursts of fireworks had dulled down into the occasional rocket. Your breaths were heavy and laboured, as was John B's, as you stared upwards at him. Your eyes met with his overcast, mahogany orbs as your chest heaved up and down in a steady cadence.

There was a moment of tense silence between the two of you, neither of you wanting to be the first to speak up. So, instead, you both continued to stare somewhat longingly into one another's eyes, slightly overwhelmed with the moment that had just passed. Then, as the world began to slow down around you, you threw caution to the wind and pressed your lips to his once again. You were met with hot, welcoming kisses and an appreciative stroke of his tongue against your bottom lip. You melted into his beer-sodden lips, leaving all consequences of your drunken tryst for a more sober you to deal with.

[nagipops]

SWEET NOTHINGS, BITTER ENDINGS PART II.

SUMMARY: in which your precious life is ended through a cruel twist of fate by your beloved brother.

WARNINGS: blood, profanity + SPOILERS for KNY chapter 115

A/N: link to part one.

He heard a deafening roar cry out from a distance away as crows frantically flapped out of the trees and into the sky above.

A demon?

Sheathing his blade, the hashira began to sprint to the source of the noise coming from the east.

The first scent he picked up on was blood. It was faint, but it was there. But it wasn’t demon blood.

Human blood?

As he continued to travel east, heart racing, he heard crashing up ahead and quickly dove into a nearby bush to scout out the intruder. Narrowing his eyes, he spotted a flash of pink and green. Mitsuri?

He cautiously searched the area for any signs of demons before following after the pink haired girl.

“Kanroji!” he barked as the girl’s head perked up at the sound of her name. She whipped around, her green eyes lighting with relief.

“Sanemi!” She bounded over to him, grasping his shoulders tightly with shaking arms. "Sanemi, where did (Y/N) go? Did you meet up with her?"

His veins turned to ice. The human blood he smelled. The spine-chilling roar he heard.

Sanemi opened his mouth to speak, but all he could manage was a petrified shake of his head.

The light green eyes facing him widened with fear. "Oh, god... oh god oh god oh god..." She snapped out of her horrified trance as another pained howl pierced through the midnight air and her eyes locked with the wind hashira's once more. Steeling their gazes, the two pillars sped off to the direction of the noise.

If there was one thing Sanemi wished to erase from his memory forever, it would be the sight of his mother, a feral demon ripping her own children to shreds with her own fangs and claws.

If there was another thing Sanemi wished to erase from his memory forever, it would be the horrific scene splayed out in front of him.

Thick ash billowing into the air. The rancid stench of rotten flesh and blood.

The sight of his little sister crouching on the ground.

With pearly white skin.

With raking, hooked claws.

With red, watery eyes.

With glinting ivory fangs.

With the scent of a demon flowing from her body, her limbs, her breaths,

Her blood.

The wind hashira stood paralyzed to the ground, mortified at what he was seeing with his own two eyes.

His little sister.

A demon.

This couldn’t be happening. Not again.

“S-sanemi...” a soft whisper sounded from his right. He slowly turned his head to find the love hashira’s horrified gaze locked onto the demon in front of her. “She’s— she...”

Mitsuri began to collapse to the ground, but not before Sanemi could wrap his arms around her frail, trembling body, his mouth still agape.

“What do we do?” she whimpered weakly, still staring in shock at her sister— no, the demon in front of her. “Sanemi, what do we—”

“I don’t know!” he snarled, vengeance and frustration bubbling within his body. Not again. This was not happening to him again. Setting down the girl onto her feet, shuddering hands moved to the sheath of his blade. “She’s— she’s a demon. We... we have to.”

“No!” Mitsuri cried, tackling him to the ground. “Stop! She’s our sister!”

Sanemi clenched his teeth with such resentment that you could hear them scraping against each other. “You think I don’t know that?!” he shouted at his comrade, his harsh voice breaking in his throat. “You think I want to do this?!”

Tears spilled from the green eyes hovering over him, but no words escaped her lips. Her head shook softly, unable to grasp the fact that this was reality. This was real. This wasn’t some cruel nightmare. Her sister was a demon.

Mitsuri fell to the ground as the white-haired pillar shoved past her shoulder, drawing his blade as he stared down the growling demon in front of him.

“(Y-Y/N)...” His knuckles turned white as he gripped the handle of his sword, gritting his teeth. “You idiot...”

Just then, a flash of purple materialized in front of him and the scent of flora clouded his senses.

“Shinazugawa-san,” the lilting voice warned. “Please step back.”

Sanemi growled, his furious eyes clouding with the urge to shove away the small girl in front of him.

An iron grip suddenly clutched at the sleeve of his haori.

“Stop.” The wind hashira heard the voice he loathed so much speak resolutely into his ear.

“Piss off!” he barked, snapping his arm to release it from the water pillar’s grip. But it was no use, as the hashira’s hold stayed firm. “I’m the only one who can do this! None of you have had to kill your own family members before!”

Giyuu’s eyebrows furrowed with bitterness as he pinned his comrade’s arms behind his back. “That’s enough. We’re taking her back to headquarters to consult with Ubuyashiki. The mission is over.”

The rest of the hashira stared down at the demon in front of them in horror.

The determined eyes, the confident smile, the warm aura of a little sister...

It was all gone.

“A demon...” the stone pillar wept, clasping his hands together and sending a silent prayer to the heavens for their lost sister.

The youngest pillar narrowed his eyes at the demon. “She’s not human at all any more, is she?”

Giyuu pulled on the rope restraining her, shaking his head. “She was... she was trying to speak while we brought her here,” he said softly, recalling how painful it was for the hashira to hear her pained screams and cries as they carried her home. “It seems like... she isn’t able to fully speak yet.”

The demon with the rope around her neck thrashed and snarled, baring her sharp white fangs and clawing at the hashira standing around her. Her catlike pupils dilating, she lunged forward at the flame pillar with a roar. “Rrrahh! He— hckk...” Giyuu tugged on the rope once more, stopping her just a few inches from Rengoku’s chest as she went limp.

“Rengoku-san!” Mitsuri cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. None of the hashira knew what to do with their sister. This monster in front of them.

How were they, the pillars of the Demon Slayer Corps, whose duty is to slay all demons, going to kill their own sister?

Did they have to?

“H-he-lp...”

All heads whipped to their sister crawling on the ground, her mouth agape and her red eyes watering.

“H-hel-p... end... m—”

Something shifted in her eyes. As if she was finally able to see clearly for the first time.

Her crimson orbs widened, her claws reaching to her pale face as though she was making sure she was real. She sat there, knees folded underneath her, touching and patting her demonic body with wonder.

The hashira locked eyes with each other in concern.

Has she regained consciousness? Would she turn malicious? Will she recognize who we are? Does she know we’re her siblings?

A broken sob pierced through the air as all of the pillars turned to the center of the circle once again.

One gnarly claw sat over her heart, the other covering her pale mouth. A steady flow of tears poured from her glistening scarlet eyes as she kept her gaze trained on the ground in front of her.

“I-I’m...”

Giyuu gazed at her with sorrow. Shinobu’s eyes filled with sympathy. Mitsuri clasped her hands over her mouth, letting out a sob. Obanai lightly touched her shoulder. Gyomei’s tears began to flow faster. Sanemi stood paralyzed with shock.

“A... de... mon...”

The wind hashira raised a shaking finger, pointing at his sister kneeling on the ground. “O-oi...” he started, his voice trembling. “She can— she can talk...”

Moving to crouch in front of the demon was the insect pillar who tentatively reached a cautious arm onto her bony white shoulder. “My little butterfly... Can you hear me?”

Crimson eyes slowly slid over to meet violet ones, tears still trickling out of them. Her head nodded at an excruciating pace, seemingly sapping all of her energy.

“Good. I am your older sister, Shinobu, and these are all of your siblings, you see?” Her soft, kind voice unwavered, as though she had comforted demons like this countless times during her life. She turned and swept one arm out to the hashira standing before her, the other trained firmly on the younger girl’s back.

Staring before you were the nine pillars of the Demon Slayer Corps. Your nine older siblings locked their grief-stricken eyes with yours. You could barely hear your sister's voice over the thumping sound of blood rushing through your body.

You were so thirsty. You were so tired. You just wanted to sleep. Forever.

“... friends, okay?” the soft voice carried you out of your thoughts. “(Y/N)? Are you still with us?”

You felt your lips part, but no sound came out. Panic rose throughout your body as you tried and failed, and tried and failed again to speak.

The hashira before you looked at each other in concern before the one behind you piped up. “Use your body to speak if you can,” the calm voice spoke. “I’ll keep her on the rope just in case.”

Your stinging eyes moved to meet with pained dark blue ones as his pale hands wrapped firmly around the rope your frail body was attached to.

Nodding slowly— gods, it was so painful— you reached a hand over to one side of your rope-bruised neck and dragged it over to your other side, making a cutting motion.

The hashira gaped at you in horror.

“You... you want us t-to kill you?” The white-haired male yelled, the pulsing veins in his blank eyes straining as they peered into yours.

They were red.

Blood.

You needed blood. You craved it so, so badly. You could feel it bubbling in your gut and spreading from the tips of your clawed toes to your pale white skull. You couldn’t live without blood.

Human blood.

It was everywhere. In a quarter of a millisecond, it was everywhere.

Blood.

Gushing out from a white haori-covered shoulder.

Right underneath your glinting fangs.

Oh, it was delicious.

Terrified screams and the clink of metal cried out from all around you.

But all you could focus on was the taste of blood.

Human blood.

A crack.

You were thrown onto your back. A rope pulled tautly around your neck. The butt of a sword staked right onto your chest.

You cheeks were wet. Why were they wet?

Your eyes stung so badly. Why did they sting?

A strained noise escaped from your throat against your will. “Do— it!”

The voice wasn’t your own.

This body wasn’t your own.

Who were you?

"DO IT!" a voice shrieked from inside you. "DO IT! KILL ME!"

Who... who was saying that?

Nine horrified pairs of eyes stared down at you. Who were they again?

"Please!" the voice was hoarse now. "Please, before I hurt you again!"

The handle of the sword pushing into your chest trembled. You turned to meet the wide eyes of the man with the white hair...

Who was he again?

Oh right, he had the most delicious blood...

But there was something else about him...

Your vision grew red as you remembered the pure ecstasy of drinking in his blood, quenching your never-ending thirst for just a moment...

You craved it again.

Thrashing your body about underneath the sword, you lunged forward, clawing at the man's pale neck.

Petrified gasps sounded from all around you.

A searing pain flooded through your entire body.

There, piercing right through your neck, was a nichirin blade.

And directly in front of your eyes was the green sword hilt of the wind pillar.

Wind pillar.

Your eyes widened in realization as all of your memories of your human life came flooding back into your head.

Shinobu teaching you how to concoct various antidotes and poisons. Mitsuri helping you fit your official Demon Slayer Corps uniform. Rengoku helping you up after a difficult sparring session. Giyuu patting your head before sending you off to the Final Selection. Himejima giving you charms of luck before your first mission.

Sanemi, who had supposedly died to the demon who turned you, in front of you now, with his sword buried into your throat.

“N-nemi—” you managed to croak out, your vision growing dark. All you could focus on was the horrified gaze staring back at you.

"Fuck, (Y/N)!" Sanemi barked. "Why the fuck did you go and do that and kill yourself! Shit! You're gonna fucking die now!" You could see tears on his scarred cheeks.

A tiny, sorrowful smile spread across your face. "Don't cry, Sanemi..." All of your energy poured into this one smile, this one smile to say your goodbyes. "Hey— Nemi... remember, you always said... humans... always get the last laugh, huh?"

The last thing you saw before your vision went black was Sanemi’s frightened eyes.

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated. feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! thank you <3

[seijorhi]

The Fall

Somebody said Devil Kuroo and I have not recovered since. Anyway, enjoy my first offering for the Spooktober event!

Kuroo Tetsurou x Female Reader

TW Dub/non-con, blood, gore, minor character death, religious themes, nsfw, mild smut

It’s subtle, the shift in the air as two polished black shoes cross the threshold. The candles on the altar spit and sputter, and a shiver trickles down your spine. 

You wonder if the humans scattered along the pews can sense it too, if they can taste the bitter, metallic tang in the air, feel the same prickling sensation at the nape of their necks as  tiny hairs stand on end. The woman seated two rows in front of you stiffens, her breath catching between her sobbed prayers, but she doesn’t turn and neither do you.

Do they have any idea the evil that’s trespassing on holy ground? The danger that they’re all in - the danger that you’ve inadvertently brought upon them?

This is all your fault.

His footsteps, slow and measured echo mockingly throughout the nave, but you’re rooted in place. It’s instinctual, you think; the fear that sinks its claws into your heart, seeping into your veins like ice. 

There is nowhere left for you to run. 

You have no more aces hidden up your sleeves. 

The wards that protected you, kept you safe and hidden for years are broken, and your friends-

Blood slicked floors, body parts strewn across your apartment. A howling scream pierces the air around you, and it takes a moment to realise that it belongs to you. You fall to your knees, bile rising in your throat as you stare in wide eyed horror at the grisly mess he’d left in his wake. 

He could have killed them with a snap of his fingers, but he’d taken his time, hurt them, ripped the spines from their bodies slowly, keeping them alive as they screamed and begged through tears and snot and blood and vomit…  

He’d left them for you to find like a gruesome homecoming gift. Punishment, you think, for daring to hide you from him. 

It’s late, well past midnight. The only people in the crumbling, dilapidated church at this hour are those with nowhere else to go. Vagrants, the helpless, those lost to grief and addiction seeking the barest semblance of comfort amongst the burning incense, high ceilings and grimy, stained glass windows. 

And you. 

Though you suppose you fit into the former. Where else could hope to hide now that your sanctuary has been torn to pieces? This is the last place you’d choose to go, even now the long healed scars on your shoulder blades sting and burn, a painful and persistent reminder that you no longer belong amongst these hallowed halls.

Foolishly, you’d still come. Consecrated ground was supposed to protect you, however temporarily.

He shouldn’t be here. He can’t be here, it’s not possible, but-

Dressed in a crisp black suit with a blood red tie, the handsome figure settles himself down on the pew beside you. A smirk curls at his lips as he stretches long legs, crossing his ankles and leisurely fixing the sleeves of his jacket as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. 

You don’t dare draw breath. Sitting stiff and ramrod straight, you stare at your trembling hands curled into fists on your lap, the ancient golden pendant lying broken in your palm. There’s dried blood smeared across the back of your hands, flecks and splatters hidden among the dark fabric of your skirt. The sight of it makes your stomach churn.

His chin tilts, golden, cat-like pupils settling on you. You fight the urge to fidget, to flee, fingernails biting into the soft, delicate skin of your palm as he studies you. 

“Hey, angel,” he purrs, his voice like warm honey. “It’s been a while.”

Finally you tear your eyes away from your lap, meeting his smirk with an icy glare. “Don’t call me that,” you snap bitterly. 

He laughs, stretching back to drape his arm over the wooden backrest of the pew, his fingers just barely grazing your shoulders. “But I like calling you angel, and I’ve missed you.” The last part is growled, a low and rumbling timbre, too deep, too rich to be mistaken for anything close to human. It makes your hackles rise and your stomach clench uneasily. Unbidden, memories flash to your mind- his teeth at your neck, his sweat slicked body moving atop yours. Unbearable, searing heat flooding your core, large hands encircling yours to hold you down as his hips eagerly rut up against your ass, “Give into me, angel, you know you want to.”

His grin widens, and you know that it’s deliberate. 

You don’t have the luxury of anger, not when the fear so visceral it threatens to choke you demands attention. He’s smiling amiably, but you’re not so naive as to believe that he’s not furious with you, that there won’t be punishments that await you for your escape.

One hundred and twenty years might pass in the blink of an eye for him, but it wouldn’t make a difference if it were only one, or even a single month, a day. You ran from him, and for every moment you were not at his side he would make you suffer - excruciating pain inflicted with pleasure until your mind broke and you couldn’t distinguish the two, until you were a babbling, beautiful mess begging for mercy.

Until you regretted ever even considering leaving his side after all that he’d done to keep you there.

He’d promised you as much a long time ago, hissing the threat into your ear as he forced you to ride his cock.

You’d fled anyway. And now, you’re trapped with nowhere left to run, and he knows it just as well as you do. But it’s not yourself that you’re scared for. 

There will be plenty of time for that later.

Six innocent, oblivious humans dot the derelict pews, and the Father you’d watched tend to the burning candles and incense at the altar, meeting your stricken gaze for just a moment before returning to the task at hand. 

It is for their sakes that you are afraid.

“A church, angel?” he sounds amused. “You know, I expected you to run after you found the dead witch and her partner, but here?” he tuts, shaking his head with a sigh. Pain, raw and visceral stabs at your heart and your shoulders shake with barely concealed anger, hands clenched so tight that blood seeps from the crescent shaped cuts in your palm. He eyes the gold pendant flecked with crimson in your grip, and for the first moment since he arrived, you watch that cavalier facade slip - a flicker of something dark and jealous twisting at his features. “They were the ones who kicked you out, don’t you remember? They ripped those lovely wings-”

“You tricked me, Kuroo! You lied!” the words spill from your tongue before you can hope to stop them. His golden eyes widen for a split second, surprised by your outburst, but it only lasts a moment before he’s smirking indulgently at you once more. Too late you realise your slip. The devil has a thousand names, but Kuroo was the one he gave when he first came to you. 

You haven’t uttered that name in almost two hundred years. 

“Did you think that the grace of God would protect you here, angel?” He slides closer, long, nimble fingers plucking the cross from your hands only to cast it aside. The faint metallic clinking as it falls and clatters across the marble floors makes you flinch, but he pays it no mind. “Did you truly believe that there is an ounce of anything holy left in this crumbling, decrepit shithole? And even if there were,” he pauses, leaning down to whisper in your ear as a warm palm slides up your thigh, “did you really think that would be enough to keep me from you?”

“K-Kuroo,” you gasp as he leans down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, his mouth laving wet, hot, open mouthed kisses against the delicate skin there. His fingers delve under the hem of your skirt and it’s pure, unadulterated fear that hits you like a tidal wave, compelling you against your better instincts to claw at his wrist, halting him in his tracks.

He stills, warm breath fanning across your skin as he exhales sharply, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The flames from the candles on the altar sputter once more before they swell with frightening intensity, surging as the temperature in the chapel spikes. 

“Angel,” he purrs lowly, the barest hint of an underlying threat lacing the endearment, and it feels as though there’s an invisible hand inside of your chest, clenching around your frantically beating heart. It’s a mistake, you know that even as his other hand reaches for your chin, gripping it tightly as he forces you to meet his molten gaze. “If you keep denying me what I want, I will raze this fucking church to the ground and let them all burn.”

This time you don’t so much as flinch when he tugs your panties to the side, rough fingertips brushing teasingly along your slit. “You’re going to let me defile you, sweet thing. You’re going to remember why you fell for me.” 

His eyes are blown wide, dark pupils almost swallowing the gilded irises. Gone is the perfectly crafted human facade - this is the beast that lurks beneath, and you have run from him for long enough. Your heart hammers against your ribs, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, fighting back a shiver as he tracks the movement with predatory focus. You know as well as he does that the games are over, and you have lost.

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to run, but you cannot move.

His breath is ragged, a flush of pink dusting at his cheek as he stares at you, an unholy desire burning in those bottomless depths.

One beat passes, and then another-

He closes the gap between you two, crashing his lips against yours. The kiss isn’t sweet. It isn’t tender, but it sets you alight nonetheless. Without warning his fingers plunge into your plush, velvet walls and you gasp for him, clutching at his jacket sleeve.

“And when I take you, fuck you on these floors until you sing for me, angel, you’re going to love every second of it,” he snarls.

[queenmuzz]

Heat of the Moment

A Dante x Reader Valentine’s Day Special!

Your mom had always told everyone, in a disapproving tone, that you were too impulsive for your own good.  You darted into the road to get a runaway ball.  You bought that awesome looking jacket, without checking to see if it was on sale.  And now, because you were craving pizza, and didn’t want to shell out the four bucks extra for delivery, you were in a mighty fine pickle.

You decided that taking the deserted looking street at near midnight, just to shave a few minutes off your walk to Angelo’s Pizzeria was a perfectly splendid idea.  So splendid, you didn’t notice the shadowy figures following you, until you were grabbed from behind, and a cloth covered with some sort of chemical was placed over your screaming mouth.

So now, here you stood, or rather...laid, on cold grey stone, that seemed to leech all warmth away from your flesh.  It was still dark, but illuminated by torches, you seemed to be surrounded by columns of stone, like you were in some knock off kid sized version of Stonehenge.  You immediately attempted to get up, only to find to your irritation, your wrists and ankles were bound by industrial grade chains.   

“The offering has awoken!” called out a woman’s voice, and from the darkness, like the damn Ringwraiths from Lord of the Rings, nine cloaked figures came out of the darkness.  You tried to make out their faces, but both their pitch black cloaks, and blood red masks hid everything about them.

“Brothers and Sisters, we are gathered here tonight to call forth from the very bones of the earth, a power far greater than any human can imagine.  The stars have aligned, the incense has been lit.  All now,” she motioned to the cultist beside her, who handed her a leatherbound book, “Is to speak the incantations, and complete the rituals.”

And then, with the help of her assistant, the group began to chant.  You had no idea of what was being spoken, but it sounded Latin. 

“Really... Latin?  Guys, there are a tonne of other languages you could use!  What happened to originality?!” you grumbled, but while you could feel their glares, none stopped their inane chants

Upon each pillar,  a letter lit up, one at a time.  You couldn’t recognize the script, but it looked like a five year old’s attempt to write Hebrew. For some reason, that irked you. This makes no sense.  Latin is an Indo-European language, and Hebrew is a totally different family! These idiots are mixing everything up!.

But the incantation seemed to do the trick, and the flames grew, and changed to a sickly green colour.  And now, all these cultists raised their arms in exultation 

“Lord of the Underworld, we present you this offering, a Virgin Offering, for you to consume!” The lead cultist chanted.

“Wait!” you blurted out, in a desperate attempt to avert your fate, “I’m not a virgin!  I’ve had sex before, dozens...no, hundreds of times!”

Her assistant leaned over you, their mask barely concealing his skepticism.

“Name one person you have laid with,” he tested.

“Well…” Your mind was blank, and so you went with the first thing that shot through your brain.

“Your mom, for starters.”

You could have slapped yourself for such a dumb comeback, had your wrists not being tied up, but you needn’t have worried about not getting slapped.  The cultist’s lips twisted into a snarl, and you felt white hot pain radiating from your cheek, and the taste of blood filling your mouth.  Even though it hurt like hell, one part of you was mentally high fiving at that comeback.  His hand raised up one more time, to give another strike, but the leader quickly grabbed his wrist.

“Calm yourself, brother… the offering must remain undamaged. Besides,” and you could swear you  heard a smirk in her voice, “It’s not their body that must be virginal, it’s the blood.”

Well shit, you thought, as you placed your burning cheek against the cool stone to relieve the pain.  

The ritual continued.  “We humble servants provide both the firstfruits of this offering to open the way.”  The woman took out a jet black dagger, and approached you with steady steps.  Would she cut out your heart, Temple of Doom style?  Rip out your entrails?  Slit your throat?  All you could hope was that it would be quick and painless.  

What you hadn’t expected was for her to grab one of your restrained hands and with surprisingly gentleness placed the edge of the obsidian blades against your palm.

As she dragged the razor sharp edge, a line of crimson bloomed, like a trail of bubbles.  It almost didn’t hurt, but you couldn’t help but get upset.  All this pomp and ceremony, and they were just giving you a cut that would irritate you for weeks...if you lived that long. Whatever happens, you said as the cultist began using your blood to paint the two largest stone pillars, in a perverse parody of the Passover ritual, I hope whatever these bastards are summoning crushes them.

“COME FORTH!” The whole group chanted in unison, “Taste the blood… DEVOUR THE FLESH!”

And without warning, the blood...YOUR blood, burst into flame, racing up the pillars as if gasoline had been pumping through your veins.  At the top, the flames connected and  formed a gateway...a hellgate.  And within it, an orb, an inferno expanded...and a roar that sounded nothing like any earthbound animal emanated.

And then, an explosion of heat and sulfur knocked down the stones, and the cultists, sending the leader flying back several feet.  Only you, chained to the granite altar, remained in place.

You squinted as the searing light dissipated.  Among the now dying flames stood, or hovered… a demonic sight.  You could swear you saw the air distort from the heat that seemed to generate from within his chest.  Four leathery wings splayed out, the inner skin swirling designs constantly shifting, almost hypnotising.  And the horns!  A good foot long that curved  and twisted, glowing like charred wood both above and around his face. A face that reminded what was in front of you.  A demon.  Teeth as long and sharp as paring knives, eyes glowing like the pits of hell.  As if Satan himself had come up from the depths.  And for all you knew… he probably had.

You heard the sound of crumpled paper.  “Oh man,” the demon rumbled, his voice distorted by the sound of the exhaust coming from between his teeth, “I was just getting to the good part…”

“Oh Great and Powerful Lord…”  the devil stared at the surrounding area, at the the cultists that had recovered began following their leader’s motions and bowed prostrate on the ground, and you still chained.  It was hard to make out his expression, but it seemed like...surprise?

 “We are your most humble servants,” the leader continued,  “All we ask...is a scrap of your power...a trifle for one such as you, as payment for summoning you..My Lord?”

The demon didn’t even spare a second glance as he strode past her, past the other shrouded forms, and made a beeline towards you.  This was it, you thought, time to come up with a witty parting remark. But of course, your impulsive nature wouldn’t cooperate right now.  At least the demon seemed to be the ‘fire and fury’ style, he would probably consume you quickly.

He towered over you, and even now, the stone, which had been ice cold the entire time, began to heat up beneath you...sweat, both from terror, and the inferno looming above you,  beaded on your forehead.  

“My Lord?” the assistant asked, “Is the offering suitable for your arrival?  They have a wicked tongue, but they are perfect for summoning.

“I think you got it all wrong buddy,” the demon turned his eyes on the unholy congregation, and strangely, a chill appeared in the air, “You guys didn’t summon me….” A razor claw extended out and pointed at you, “THEY did… and if they summoned me…” the cultists slowly became aware of what he was implying, the quicker ones started making a run for it, “YOU guys must be the offering!  Who’s volunteering first?”

The answer was nine sets of panicking feet trying to sprint out of the stone circle.  The demon glanced back at you, “You might want to cover your eyes for this, it’s gonna get a little messy,” and with the speed of a racing forest fire, he charged, blades of superheated air swirling around him.  

The scream of the lead cultist was enough for you to clench your eyes shut, and then followed by a multiple of cries of terror and death, as the coppery scent of blood, not your own this time, scented the air.

A few minutes later, there was nothing but silence, except the sound of boots on gravel.  You couldn’t help it, you took a peek.

Instead of the cultists, or the demon, there was just a guy, shaggy white haired, with a worn t-shirt that clung juuuuust right against his broad chest, and a smile on his face.  You looked around, trying to find either a surviving cultist, or the demon, but all you could see in the darkness were void black shapes, lying on the grounds, their robes moving slightly in the breeze.

“That can’t be comfortable, let’s get you out of there,” the man said, and without a hint of effort, he gently grasped your hands, and with the other, he gave a quick yank.  Immediately the sound of snapping metal, and to your amazement, your arms were free.  And if you had thought he had done a sleight of hand with those chains, the way he effortlessly ripped the chains around your ankles off immediately clued you in that this man was more than he seemed.

You rubbed your wrists as you slowly sat up, staring at him. “Who are...you?”

“Ah, yeah...forgot to introduce myself in the whole hubbub.  Cultists always ruining get togethers.”  He stuck out his hand, “Name’s Dante.”  And as you shook his hand, with your uninjured one, you noticed that for a brief moment,  his eyes momentarily glowed red, like embers.  Embers that had once been blazing coals.

He must have seen the flash of panic in your eyes, because he backed away, his hands raised in surrender. 

“Don’t worry!  I ain’t going to hurt you… yeah, I’m the demon those jackasses called for” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “but I’m not the ‘MUST RULE THE WORLD’ type, I usually am the one people call to get rid of what was being summoned, not actually BEING the ‘sommonee.’  Wait, is that the correct term?”  He paused for a moment to think it over, before he seemed to come back to the present. “Anyways, I was just relaxing in my office, reading a magazine, and then POOF, I’m in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by people with horrible sense of fashion.  Speaking of my magazine...where did I put it?”

You saw the magazine, its pages fluttering in the wind, and picked it up.  A copy of ‘Half Cocked’, and on its cover, a buxom young brunette was getting a bit too friendly with a revolver,  alongside a well toned man wearing little more than a bandolier.

“Oh thanks!… that” he quickly snatched it out of your hands,  “I read it mainly for the articles…” he explained lamely, before hurriedly shoving it in his back pocket, as he looked you up and down. “Besides...I got a feeling I won’t need it much anymore…”  And in the flaming remnants of ritual, you swore you saw him turn a shade of pink...although that could just be the fire.

“Welp,”  He stretched, “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?  All that work made me famished.”

You had no idea where the hell you were, but you were still ravenously hungry.  Which reminded you how you got into this mess in the first place.

“I could go for some pizza or-”

You felt a blaze of warmth, and suddenly you felt your legs swept under you, and you looked up at Dante, now back to his demonic form carrying you bridal style.  But no longer did it strike fear in you, just a sense of awe...and admiration

“You truly know how to get to this demon’s heart,” he practically purred, and with a slight grunt, he leapt up and started flying towards the nearest collection of lights on the horizon.  “Pizza it is, then!”

Despite the remnant of chill from spending God knows how long on that stone, and the brisk breeze of the upper atmosphere blowing past you, you didn’t feel a little bit cold. It was like being held by a flying furnace.

“You know Dante….” you spoke, barely audible above the wind.

“Hm?”

“You’re pretty hot.”  Instantly, you realized what you had said, and would have preferred him to just drop you to your death at this very moment.

You heard him chuckle.

“Yeah, this form runs a bit warm….”

And even though he didn’t say it, you were almost certain he knew exactly what you meant.

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Carnal Lullaby

summary: Loki can't sleep, and he needs you to help tire him out.

warnings: PWP, smut, vaginal fingering, sex without protection, cockwarming, hint of a praise kink.

wordcount: 1123

masterlist here

Grasping fingers smoothing over your belly beneath your oversized tee coaxed you from the depths of your peaceful sleep. A confused, questioning hum sounded in your throat at Loki’s warm leg gliding in between yours.

“I cannot sleep, my love,” he murmured in his rough, low growl that instantly kindled a fire of desire in your abdomen. He left soft, lingering kisses along the edge of your jaw. “Would you assist me with my sleeplessness?”

Blinking your eyes open, you turned your head on your pillow to gaze at your lover, taking in his lust-blown pupils and mischievous grin with the help of cool, blue moonlight filtering in through your gauzy curtains. A blink and you could almost imagine ridges patterning his skin and crimson in his heavy-lidded stare. Your fingers trailed down his torso to rub back and forth along his thigh pinning you to the bed. “And what’d you have in mind for that?”

“Just lie back,” he rolled his hips into you, pointedly directing his unclothed erection to twitch eagerly against your thigh, “and allow me to take you as I please. You are so ravishing, my love, I cannot resist.”

As if his desires needed an explanation for the nudge of his nose against the shell of your ear, followed by the curl of his tongue against the hollow of your throat. As if being with him in your bed was anything less than a privilege that you reveled in every morning when you woke to his sleep-softened smile and every night when his slow, steady breaths fanned against the nape of your neck and he wrapped himself around you. As if he was anything less than good to you, good for you and in you and on you, and as if he wouldn’t make the nighttime interlude worth your interrupted dreams.

The lave of his tongue over your pulse point, followed by a sensual suck that you knew would bruise, sealing his claim over you, sent molten anticipation flowing through your veins to pool in between your legs. Arching your neck to offer more of yourself to his talented tongue, you grinned at the slowly spinning ceiling fan. “I guess I’ll hel-”

The desperate, hungry crash of his lips into yours silenced your playful response. Teasing, sweeping strokes of his tongue tossed fuel to the flames licking against your skin. Deft fingers that intimately knew every swell and dip of you teased down your sides and dug into the giving flesh of your hips. You parted for him easily, legs falling open beneath your silken sheets, arms hooked lazily over his shoulders, and lips gasping for air to feed the desire he so easily ignited within you.

“Ah, ah,” he chided you breathlessly, propping himself up on one elbow by your shoulder so his other hand could remove yours from his smooth skin. Dazzling green and gold light removed what little clothing separated your tingling skin as his free hand caught yours and settled them above your head. “I remember telling you that your part in this was to lie back and allow me to take you.”

Soft, midnight hair fell in a curtain around you to quiet your laughter, contain it in a special, intimate haven created from his forehead resting against yours. The tilt of your chin allowed you to nip at his lower lip. “Get on with it, then. We don’t have all night.”

Challenge gleamed in his eyes to match the growl rumbling through his chest and into yours. His elegant, heartbreakingly beautiful face dipped below your gaze, and not a moment later cool lips encircled the peak of your breast. His other hand memorized the rasp of your skin beneath his calloused fingertips, trailing a path from aching breast, to ticklish bellybutton, to velvety folds glistening with need for him.

“Always so ready for me, sweetling. So good for your king,” he murmured, pressing the praise into your heaving chest, accentuating the words with the graze of his teeth and pinch of his fingers so that your body bowed off of the bed.

More words of encouragement slipped from his lips and over your skin, lifting goosebumps only to be soothed by flicking fingers and twisting tongue. More flames seared your skin from the inside out until you had to card your hands into his hair and tug to hold onto some semblance of reality for the blinding heat that burned your thoughts to ash. More shaking laughter spilled from your lips to be swallowed by his kiss when you jerked at the pinch of his fingers over your throbbing clit, so sensitive from your release that he hummed in approval.

“You’ve forgotten yourself, little one, but that may be forgiven.”

So smug that your heart swelled against your ribcage for the wonderful, impossible man feathering kisses over your sternum.

Velvet-sheathed steel pressed into you, slow and steady, stretching and filling so that your fingernails dug into the swell of his backside. You breathed him in, salt and soap and masculinity and Loki. He was sleepy, content, soft and gentle with his mouth anchored to your shoulder and your hand squeezing the curve of his backside to urge him deeper. Languid and lithe above you, his heart beating his passion against yours. Your ankles hooked around his calves, the steady rise and fall of his body adding to the molten heat unfurling to the tips of your toes and pads of your fingers holding him tight.

Your release washed over you in a gentle wave, your body trembling beneath his at your silent cry. He followed you, his back arching and hips stilling to push you into the mattress. The taste of his surrender was sweet on your tongue, lips curling against his neck as he cried out his bliss into your hair.

Loki tenderly brushed the back of his fingers down your flushed cheek, the faintest tint of blue and raised markings hinting at the source of his suddenly chilled caress. Wicked lips parted to speak and your hand lifted and covered his mouth.

“Sleepytime now, sweetheart,” you whispered, patting his backside twice.

He smoothed one last kiss over the crown of your head and rolled you onto your sides, adjusting your leg over his hip so that he never had to part from your welcoming heat. Your arms tucked in between your bodies and his lax bicep proved a most comfortable pillow. The last of his claim on you to match the marks peppered into your chest and neck. Green light swirled around the blankets to bring them up to your waists as your eyes fluttered closed.

“Yes, darling. Thank you,” he slurred, sleep already pulling him toward his well-earned rest. “Goodnight.”

~

Little Bit o’ Loki taglist: @myownviperroom @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet @iamverity @rt8815 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @ms-cellanies @rosierossette @thathedonistgirl @lokixme @hellethil @myraiswack @birdgirl90 @cateyes315

Whole Shebang taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @brokenthelovely @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @sabine-leo @peterman-spideyparker @wegingerangelica @bluefrenchfries604 @catsladen @snoopy3000 @silverswordthekilljoy @villainousshakespeare @kitkatd @nonbinarylowkey @lots-of-loki @is-it-madness @kangaroobunny​ @trippedmetaldetector​ @green-valkyrie​