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demonicbaby666 · 1 year ago

Text

Sharp Edged Pleasure

One shot | Once Upon a Time Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Dark!Swan x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst and Smut

Words: 4.3k+

Warnings: G!p Emma (conjured), top!DarkSwan, bottom!reader, knife play (don’t talk to me about this), swearing, degradation, light bondage (rope), edging, spanking, asphyxiation (a tiny smidge maybe...), I don't know what the warning is for getting banged with a foreign object but that too.

Summary: You and Emma had been seeing each other for a little before the events in Camelot took place. Seeing her as the dark one was a shock but what came next was even more unexpected.

A/n: You know ‘We don’t talk about Bruno’? Same rules apply here.

Electrical lines sparked by the open door of Granny’s, shocking you back into your body. Everyone’s eyes, including your own, darted in the direction of the crackling’s origin. Moving to the side, unable to see past the few bodies present in the room, you had a clearer view of the doorway and your eyes fell on her. Emma.

But this was not the Emma you knew.

“Mom?” Henry called out from somewhere behind you, “What happened to you?”

Something had happened. Something other than just a change in aesthetic. Long gone were the Charming genes that shone a cheeky glimmer in jade irises, lying in their wake were two stony, unreeling, unforgiving eyes; eyes that were piercing right into you. Her moonlight hair was pinned back into a tight bun, cheekbones protruding outwards, sharper than when you had last seen them, and you wondered, for a moment, what it would feel like to run your fingers along the sculpted curvatures.

It felt both like an eternity and only a day since you had last felt Emma’s touch, you missed her, the real her. Not whoever stood before you.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she began, walking forwards and lightly brushing her slender fingers along Snow’s cheek. The pixie-haired brunette shivered in response. Her hands seemed rougher and colder, “You went to Camelot to get the darkness out of me. And you failed.” her voice echoed the same change.

Her tone was uninterested. She spoke as though everyone in the room was beneath her, undeserving of her time and energy. It had the hairs of your arm standing on edge. The switch from the gentle saviour you once knew to the dark creature in front of you was downright petrifying.

Fright merged with a new foreign feeling, something resembling lust, but different - by comparison - to past events. Events that led to nights filled with cries of gratitude, and endless ecstasy, ending in tangled limbs, and gentle caresses. A concoction of past and present longing, mixed with spurring images, submerged you fully, anchoring you down into the depth of hidden sexual fantasies. Drunk on memories, fuelled only by desire, you noticed there was something enticing about the new air of authority Emma held, her presence was intoxicating, drawing you in for the kill.

However, it was Sneezy who bore the brunt of her wrath, smashed to smithereens. He was nothing to her. Nobody was. And that alone should have sent you running scared, instead, it had the opposite effect. The growing desire intensified, bubbling far too close to the surface. If everyone’s attention wasn’t glued to the scene unfolding in front of them, and they gandered a look your way, they would have noticed the slight change in your stance.

Bare thighs squeezed together under your medieval gown, the wet material of your underwear pushed directly onto your wet centre, forcing you to feel just how worked up Emma had gotten you, even if it was by doing nothing other than omitting her dark presence in a room full of hopeful souls.

The air around her reeked of the very evil she once sought to vanquish as she stood tall in tight black leather, clutching at her dagger, haphazardly showing the crowd the name etched onto it. Emma Swan.

“Nobody’s going to touch this dagger but me.” The object in question fogging over on both sides, wedged between Emma and Regina, “Now for what you all did to me, you’re about to be punished.”

‘Punished’, oh how that word touched a special nerve, that you didn’t know existed, in your body. It wasn't supposed to, you knew that as you tried to fight against every filthy thought occupying your mind.

Distractions needed to be set aside. This wasn’t Emma, your focus needed to be on getting her back. You had to say something, anything.

“Emma, why are you doing this?” It didn’t come out in the way you wanted it to, it was small and timid, nevertheless, she heard. You knew she had as she strode over to you, face barely an inch away. There was no hiding from the heavy atmosphere in the room, gravity worked against you to the point you felt your knees giving out under Emma’s menacing animalistic stare.

“Because I’m the dark one.”

You could only stare at this new version of the saviour as she vanished into a haze of black fog that was once white, filled only with pure light magic, now poisoned.

When the smoke disappeared, you expected to be greeted with the shocked faces of friends and family. Instead, Emma stood right before you once again. Only now she looked taller, stronger, and more powerful. A sinful smile - that was all Dark one - adorned her blood-red lips, lips you were desperate to feel against you. Her hair was loose, free from the restraints of a hair tie, the ashy white waves flowed over her shoulders, down past her scapulae, stopping just above her slender leather-clad waist.

A makeshift trap in the form of her stare stopped you from noticing exactly where you were. But as your eyes raked down Emma’s body the end of the bed made an appearance just above her knees. The realization jerked you into an upright position. Discovering your hands bound in rope - wrapped around your wrists almost tight enough to stop blood flow - you could only cower away, shifting your hips back until you were pressed against the headboard, knees brought up to your chest.

Bare and bound. This was how the Dark One wanted you.

Emma didn’t move, her hands were laced behind her back as she smirked down at your naked form on the bed. Her bed. The sight of you completely at her mercy ate away at her inner desires, or better yet her inner demons. All the darkness that was once kept at bay roared to life and there was only one person she had any intentions of exercising her fantasies with.

Bringing her dagger around from behind her back, she inspected the blade, holding it in one hand and running a nimble finger over the sharp edges with the other, “I said you were about to be punished, didn’t I?”

How could this have happened? Why couldn’t you remember Camelot? Questions had to be answered. There was so much to be discussed but already you were capitulating to this cat-and-mouse game she had you playing. It was captivating, refusing any logical thoughts the space to blossom into something more than mere notions of acquiring the truth.

A scarlet hue ran over the tip of Emma’s finger, catching your eye. The small droplet grew in size, goading your pulse to quicken at what seemed to be a tactical display of one of the blade’s many uses.

“Emma, please. I don’t remember anything. What did we do?”

Unamused by the topic of choice, the smirk that adorned her ruby lips faded and was replaced with a scowl and eyes shooting daggers that felt sharper than the one in her hand. She waved it over her injured finger and instantly the cut was clean and healed like it had never happened at all. Of course, it did. Emma had just obtained the power to remedy any mishap with the wave of her hand, and you couldn't help but think what ‘mishaps’ would occur in her company.

She looked back up, meeting your gaze with a blank stare, “Do you know what I’m going to do to you?” she asked sternly with a raised brow.

A shake of your head was all you could manage. Plaguing your mind was a myriad of worrying thoughts. Emma was still inside, she wouldn’t - no - she couldn’t truly hurt you, you knew that, but as the fear grew within you; the shaking started, your skin burned rosier than moments before, Emma’s smirk reappeared, and you no longer knew where she stopped and the Dark One began.

“I’m going to fuck you.” If the look in her eyes - determination, sureness, and resolve - was anything to go by, circumstances be damned, what she wanted would come to pass. An odd trickle of relief washed over your body. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted; it also wasn’t not what you wanted. You searched her eyes, looking for the woman you knew; the kind, caring, funny woman you fell in love with. Would she be the one to touch you, hold you? It was too good to be true, there was always a twist, “Not like before, this time I’m not going to stop, not until I hear you sobbing, then I’m going to stuff that pretty mouth of yours and fuck you senseless.”

Dirty talk wasn’t Emma’s go-to, the few times you’d been together, she leaned more toward praise than belittling. Not that you minded. Who doesn’t enjoy being complimented amidst the thralls of passion? Hearing her speak in such a way, the vulgarity coming from her should have sent you into fight or flight, have you begging for mercy. Except, the words echoed in your ears, bounced around your body, stopping your breath in your throat, burning a path to the pit of your stomach until you couldn’t ignore the pang of wanting to come from between your legs at the very thought of Emma, no - not Emma - the Dark One, using you in any, and every, way she wanted.

The game had begun. Your body had said yes, whether the words came from your own mouth didn’t matter, she had sensed it too, eyes darting to the darkened patch on her bed sheets beneath you. Oh the shame you felt at your body betraying you, giving her exactly what she wanted. The tinted darkness in her jade eyes morphed into a look of pure lust and desire, the orbs darkened black as she climbed onto the bed, dagger in hand.

“Put your legs down,” she coolly demanded.

Everything was happening too fast, there was little time to process the command before Emma yanked your legs back down, hard, pulling you until you lay flat on the bed again.

“Emma, please. What happened in Camelot?” you urged, desperate for more information, to know something, anything, of what had happened.

There was a flicker of what looked, almost, like humanity in Emma’s green eyes, a breakthrough, finally.

“Stop asking questions.” her voice was harsh, the flicker gone.

Her knees, on either side of your body, padded forward on the mattress, stopping when her pelvis rested above your own. The close contact, feeling her heat pulse in beat with your own, caused the ache between your thighs to intensify, your heart to pound harder against your chest. If it weren’t for the rope around your wrists, you’d be pulling her down, ripping her clothes away, and running your hands all over her. But even so, you were not in charge here, that much was becoming abundantly clear.

The sharp point of her dagger drew close to your chest, both you and Emma watching it move nearer and nearer skin. Darting your eyes from the dagger and back to Emma, there was no ‘in’ to her hardened exterior, no visible doors leading to a hopeful ending where you’d be able to pry the truth from her and spend the remainder of the night wrapped in her arms.

“Are you going to behave?” she asked, the warning of what would happen if you didn’t behave outwardly mocking you, dagger now ghosting over the valley of your breasts, dangerously close to skin.

“Yes.” You shakily breathed, fighting off the urge to wriggle away from the threatening blade.

The cold metal pressed against the cove of your chest, sending shivers down your spine, “Yes what?”

Breaking skin on its downward trajectory, the dagger slid downwards, leaving behind a bright scarlet line painted with forming droplets of blood, “Yes, I’m going to behave.” You choked out through gritted teeth.

“Good girl.”

The space between your legs was filled with her free hand, two fingers brushing through the pool of moisture that had gathered within the last few minutes, minutes that felt like they were stretching out for an eternity. The need for more quickly mounted; without meaning to, seeking out more than Emma was giving, you began to grind against her fingers.

Her laugh echoed through the room, “You’re pathetic.” She snarled, pulling her fingers away, “Did I say you could do that?”

The blade continued to drift along your abdomen, etching another crimson line along the surface of your skin. You could almost taste the blood on your tongue, metallic and sharp. Not wanting to make a sound you held onto the tortured flesh between your teeth - realizing only later, it was your bottom lip that was delivering, what you thought to be, the phantom taste of blood - relying on it to silence all the agonizing screams that were surfacing and being held within your throat. Another wave of pain coursed through your veins, the whole of your upper body stung, crisp air nibbling away at gashes. “No, you didn’t.”

“No. I didn’t.” She turned the dagger, the flat of it resting low on your stomach. Bringing it up, a quiet groan rumbled in your throat when she slapped it back down against a fresh cut. Red now danced in the engraving, sinking deeper and deeper into the ridges of her name. “For that, you don’t get this.”

Your vision went black, a blindfold appearing over your eyes. All other senses suddenly heightened. Hints of oak, vanilla, and - oh god, of course - cinnamon. You could hear the squeak of her jacket sleeves, the bed sheets rustling under her slight movements, the feel of the bed dip by the side of your legs as Emma padded backward on the mattress.

The sound of crinkling broke through the eerie silence, and you could have screamed in frustration not being able to see what was happening. Of course, you still felt her presence, only it was further away, knees seemingly on either side of your shins, leaving little room to ponder on what all the fidgeting was leading up to. Her finger wrapped around the back of your knees, hoisting them up till the soles of your feet were pressed onto the bed, and your legs were spread open.

“Emma, what are you-” Something hard and cold slipped into you, forcing you to take a sharp breath in, though it did nothing to relieve you, “Oh fuck.”

There was no time to think between the dagger handle entering you and the start of what could only be described as brutal pumping - hard, quick, and bordering on painful. It was embarrassing how close you already were, the build-up to this moment seemed to have you tittering on the edge before it had even started.

You knew it was wrong. You wished you wanted it to stop. But you didn’t. It was sickening how good it felt and you would have fallen into a shame spiral had it not been for the undulating sound of blood pulsing through your ears, the quickening of your breathing, and the constant stimulation coming from being rapidly fucked into a state of mind-numbing bliss.

Emma’s hand came to rest on your stomach, pushing you down, stopping your hips from buckling off the mattress. Pain licked every nerve ending in your body, her hand resting on mutilated flesh, delivering you that final push. Just a few more thrusts and you’d unravel.

Thrusts that never came.

Emma kept a trained eye on you, watching your chest rise and fall faster and faster, admiring your swollen wrists grapple harder and harder against the rope, and just when she saw you barrelling into what would have been a powerful orgasm, she stopped.

“You really thought I’d let you cum?” She snickered, pulling out with painstaking slowness. “We’ve only just begun.”

A small whimper left your parted lips feeling how raw the ridged makeshift toy had left you. The logical part of your brain was screaming out, telling you to put an end to this - as if you had the option - beg her to untie you, heal you, and explain how things had gone so wrong. Logic, however, had no place making demands, not when rough fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing until you were too light-headed to produce even one intelligible thought.

“I asked you a question.”

A switch flipped within you, whether it was from the lack of oxygen, the need for more, or the love you had for Emma, wanting to keep her close for as long as possible, you didn’t care. All you cared about was pleasing her, being her good little girl.

“Yes, I thought you’d let me.” she dug her fingernails into your neck, airways so restricted you were fighting to speak, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have expected anything. God Emma, I just, I want you. I need you.”

Vision taken away from you, you couldn’t see the reaction on her face, yet somehow, you felt it. Her grip on you loosened, allowing air to flow back into your lungs, the dagger was dropped somewhere on the floor, metal clanking against polished hardwood until it finally settled. A quiet fell over the room and you embraced it with open arms. Happy to just feel Emma’s body lean over your own.

The familiar sound of magic drifted to your ears. A warm tingling homed in on your stomach. The cuts: they were becoming less painful.

“Emma, wait.” She paused, the injured portion of your skin only half healed, “I want to keep them, even if it’s just one scar.”

Nerve wracked you’d overstepped and disobeyed her in some way, you opened your mouth to apologise, but the words never made it out before Emma’s lips came crashing down on yours. For the first time that evening, you truly lost yourself, not in the thralls of passion, or chasing a high, but in the familiarity of Emma’s lips. They were soft, gentle, she poured so much emotion into one single kiss that if there had been a curse, you were certain it would have broken it.

She pulled the blindfold off, moving back so her face rested just an inch from your own. Gaze fixed on Emma you saw the pain guttered in her eyes, the anguish coming from everything she was fighting to bury. There was an internal war taking place, so much conflict swirled around in her mind, the voices of all the previous Dark Ones screaming so loud they were practically audible to you too.

“I can take it.” This, you decided, was how you would help her. There was no doubt about it, the darkness lying within her had to be set free somehow, and if it was between Emma hurting someone - which she’d never forgive herself for - or this. You’d decide for her. “Use me Emma.”

Her tongue slithered into your mouth, not bothering with any pre-emptive, because you both knew, this was exactly what you wanted and what she needed.

It was the feel of her skin, soft and smooth - a contrast to her previous attire that was now nowhere to be seen - that brought back an influx of precious memories.

The night when she’d only just come to know your body, exploring it as though humanity depended on her finding and marking your sweet spots, every single one of them. The morning she’d cooked breakfast, refusing to let you do anything other than, in her words, enjoy the domestic side of Emma. The late-night visit you'd paid her at the Sheriff's station when no one was around to see her remind you of all the ways she knew your body as no one else had ever bothered to learn.

“Turn around.” She mumbled into the kiss. It was an instruction she carried out herself, hands falling to the curve of your hip bones and flipping you around. The rope fell from the headboard and slipped down the back of the bed. Which left your hands free, finally able - you hoped - to feel the new Emma. Hands braced by the side of your face, you waited for what she had in store.

And that’s when you felt it.

She teased your entrance with the tip of her cock, circling the tight hole but never pushing in. At first, it came as a shock. Then slowly the excitement began to build. The tip alone, you could feel, was big. Bigger than anything you had ever taken, though that didn’t stop you from wanting to. Desperate to feel her inside you, every inch of her, you shifted back. Never had you felt power of this magnitude radiate from her. It was ravenous and so were you, she wanted to take, and you wanted to give. It should have worked. But Emma was not one for playing fair.

Instantly she withdrew, the close contact you ached for snatched away. You wanted to protest, shout, scream. She already had so much power over you, and doing any of those things would be serving yourself up to her. A piercing pain jolted through your whole body, hips jerking away from the hand that had just delivered a harsh slap to your ass.

“You’re impatient.” Her hand came down once again, the next blow to your tender flash harder, prying a small cry out of you, “What do you say?”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“You like this don’t you?” The question seductively slid off her tongue. She answered it herself by bringing two fingers between your legs, running them through your lower lips, “You’re dripping wet. From what? Me being cruel. Tut tut. You are a filthy one, aren’t you?”

It was useless denying it, your body had, for the god knows what time that evening, betrayed you again.

“Yes.” You whispered into the sheets beneath you. Begging them to grip onto the words, bury the single syllable of shame in their soft fabric and never let them reach Emma; because you didn’t want her to know. You didn’t want anyone to know you were enjoying every waking second of this.

“Good. It’s going to make this a lot easier.” She smirked. One hand gripped your hip, the other making steady work of getting Emma in place.

With one forward motion, she pushed in, slow, half as painful as you thought it would be, and suspiciously gentle. That, you knew, would surely not last. Your walls tensed at the intrusion, slowly relaxing around her hardened flesh and allowing it to slide out to the tip again, then push back in with the same slowness.

She kept up this tortuous rhythm until you felt your head might burst from all the stimulation that seemed like it had no clear end.

“Emma please.” You whined. Regret instantly followed when she abruptly pulled out.

With ease, she flipped you back around, snatching your wrists and pushing them into the bed above your head. With no hesitation, she slammed back in - using none of the gentleness she previously graced you with - and was met only with your cried-out whimpers.

Seeing her on top of you, there was so much determination in her eyes, but something else too. Given the circumstances, you couldn’t tell, not when she was filling you repeatedly, leaving barely anytime to breathe let alone think. So, you let yourself believe it was a mirage, a trick of the light, not, in fact, the glimmer of true love.

The bed shook, scrapping against the floorboards with each full force thrust that were coming fast and hard. All you could hear were your own cries of appreciation mixed with Emma’s heavy breathing and the sounds of her thighs repeatedly slapping against your ass. The ridged veins of her shaft offered the perfect friction, sliding along your g spot and delivering waves of pleasure that had you gasping and writhing beneath her slick body as she continued pistoning in and out of your wet sex.

“Shit, Emma, I think I’m going to-”

It felt like the ground beneath you fell in, swallowing you whole until you were nothing but a mere watcher in the expanse of the universe, locked onto witnessing this moment for an eternity. The evil swarmed your two merged bodies, ventricles of black ink daring to penetrate the intimate bubble you’d created. You saw the inner battle, Emma fighting the darkness, protecting you from its insatiable appetite to devour and destroy.

It was a deep connection you had yet to share with her or anyone. And though you may have once, ironically, wished it would have happened in another way, a perfect way; seeing Emma again, through all the mess, on the precipice of an earth-shattering climax, it felt okay this way too. Held within the orbs of green was Emma again, the real Emma. Fighting to be seen within these solemn seconds where you both became one. You sought comfort in telling yourself that was enough to justify what was happening.

“Please don’t stop.” You begged, not sure whether you were speaking only about her ministrations, or also, just maybe, about her resurfacing from the clutches of darkness.

Her grip loosened on your wrists, allowing you to fling your arms around her neck in the same moment she lunged down and pressed her lips to yours - gentler than anything she’d done that evening - tipping you over the finishing line, Emma, following closely behind. You tensed around her cock, your walls clamping so fiercely to it that you felt her pulsate inside you. Ribbons of cum filled you as Emma groaned and slowed her thrusts down to a halt, the last leaving you spent and tender.

Too stubborn to pull away, you poured everything you had left into the kiss, pulling her harder against you, urging her to continue her excursions on your lips, to stay inside you for a mere few moments longer.

“Let me stay with you.” You mumbled against her lips.

When she pulled away, to gaze into your eyes, see you again. You saw a decision had already been made.

“Give me time, it will all make sense soon.”

Black fog engulfed you. She was gone.

The bed you now laid in - fully healed and dressed in one of her oversized shirts - was your own.

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