#his strength and power and grit is irresistible

[wildsaltair]

one day I will find sufficient words to describe how much I love Maximus. until then, screencaps and fanfics and incomprehensible long tags must be my heart’s balm

[delirious-donna]

tw: kafka x female reader, sloppy blowjob, implication of sex, whimpering kafka (of course 😏)

Bright turquoise eyes, reminiscent of the skies nearing sunset with hues of green and blue painted across a cloudless horizon, followed your movement as you crawled atop his naked torso. Every muscle jerked, twitching beneath your greedy mouth, a trail of kisses pathing the way up the side of his neck. Wet, open-mouthed kisses spread across his golden skin, only pausing to suck little bruising marks until he was pulling you up with hasty hands.

Kafka’s demanding lips pressed firmly to your own, kissing you sloppily in amongst swallowed moans and soft whimpers, and not only from you. He seemed intent upon devouring you, his tongue entwined messily with yours until you had to shove at his shoulders simply to draw air into your burning lungs.

You grinned, wide and drunk on the desire thrumming through your nervous system, giddy from the dusting of heat on his cheeks and crawling up his neck like a rash. Kafka palmed your breasts, holding the generous mounds gently as his thumbs played across your taut nipples. It forced a low hiss through your gritted teeth, tingles tightening the buds even more whilst you fixed him with a firm stare and a slow shake of your head.

For once, you wanted to put his needs above yours. For once you were desperate to have him fall apart from your actions alone. He was always so giving, and whilst you knew he got off on making you feel such sharp and potent pleasure, you wanted to see him stretch out like a king. You knew he would look irresistible with an arm slung behind his head and those wide loving eyes fixed on your every wiggle.

His frown at your insistence that his hands fall from the cushion of your breasts was short-lived as he listened to your offered words instead.

“I wanna make you feel good, Kaf. I wanna taste you so bad and have you lay back to enjoy it all… ‘kay?”

He swallowed thickly, the bob of his Adam’s apple exaggerated by the lump lodged in his throat, and he let you use your strength to press his spine to the sheets with you above him. Kafka’s eyes were everywhere, not pausing for longer than a few seconds whilst he watched you shimmy and find a comfortable position. He worshipped you with his gaze alone since you raised your eyebrow in warning anytime his fingers reached out for you, biting his lip to smother the whine trying to escape his throat.

There was a genuine concern that he might pass out when you finally lowered yourself to settle between his thighs, wriggling over the firm bulge in his underwear and grasping at the waistband to pull his aching erection from their tight hold. The tendons in his neck pulled taut as you maintained eye contact, preening on the inside at his reactions. Your pink tongue lolled out, saliva dripping from the tip and falling to his purpled skin and chasing it down with wet kitten licks to his throbbing tip. Purred moans vibrated up Kafka’s shaft as you tasted the salty musk of the pearls of thick precum weeping steadily from his slit and he nearly jolted upright in the bed at the sensation.

“Holy fucking shit—babe!”

How empowering it was to bring a man—this man—to such easy rapture. This was Kafka Hibino, the man hosting a powerful kaiju and working with the top brass of the Defense Force to protect the country, but most importantly, he was your boyfriend. He was a man that housed an even bigger heart, and his biggest weakness was you.

“Easy there, big boy… try to relax,” you soothed, fixing a palm atop his chest and feeling how frantically his heart was beating beneath your fingers. Kafka howled, turning his head into the marshmallow pillows but only for a moment before he was peeking again, unable to resist watching even if it was his own undoing.

You hummed, admiring his length and girth. His cock was thick all over, but the base was especially wide, so wide that it always proved a stretch when he bottomed out. With your hand wrapped as firmly around the base as you could manage, you tapped his leaking tip to your pursed lips until webs of sticky messy connected you to him. Only then did you let go to watch the heavy weight of his cock fall against his stomach with a groan.

Kafka fisted the sheets, his hips straining upwards as you accommodated him within the wet confines of your mouth, toying with the tight skin running under the head of cock and doing your damnedest not to wiggle around too much. You knew how close he was to blowing a gasket and tempting him with the rhythmical sway of your hips and backside was not what you wanted to push him over the edge.

Drool pooled from the edges of your lips, the noisy slurps causing his eyes to roll over to the back of his skull and you moaned around him, husky and wanton for more. The vibrations resonated right into his belly, heavy balls tight with the want to pump his load down your throat so soon. Sweat edged his hairline, beads of it rolling down his temples to become stuck on the popped veins.

“Babe… shit. ‘m so close—gotta… you gotta stop!” He enthused each word with a whine, his chest heaving with every noisy bob of your head. The lewd slick slick echoing in your head to mingle beautifully with how desperate he sounded.

In answer, you shook your head. You had no qualms about him spilling so soon, the night was young, and you were determined to make him lose himself to your ministrations over and over until he was completely spent and sated. The second your teeth unsheathed, careful and delicate against his sensitive cock, he panted loudly at the overwhelming sensation. Your tongue was playful, explorative and unyielding as you toyed with the thick veins that ran the length of him.

Without warning, ropes of hot sticky cum painted your mouth. The volume took you by surprise, thick spurts falling down your throat and filling you up fast. Kafka had just enough conscious thought to pull his hips back. Through strained whimpers and convulsions that wracked his stomach and legs, he was able to grasp at the hinge of your jaw, his thumb hooked inside your mouth.

You were startled by the action, opening up in reaction just as he spoke through a deep husky intonation that had your cunt clenching around nothing and wishing for something.

“Lemme see baby, open up for me. Show me how much of that load you swallowed down. Mm… that’s it. You think this is a lot? Just wait ‘til I get that pretty pussy wrapped around my dick.”

[zayed-gold87]

Zayed’s Ascent: The Journey to the Golden Team

The clang of weights echoed through the gym as Zayed gritted his teeth, his legs trembling under the barbell’s crushing weight. His golden tank, drenched in sweat, shimmered with an almost ethereal glow under the overhead lights. Every lift, every drop of effort, brought him closer to his dream: becoming a core member of the Golden Team—a multinational brotherhood of elite athletes.

Their mission was as radiant as their uniform: to become a living embodiment of excellence and unity. For Zayed, the golden kit wasn’t just clothing. It was a symbol of transformation and belonging, one he was determined to earn.

The Golden Team

The Golden Team was no ordinary group. Its members came from all corners of the globe, each bringing their unique strengths, styles, and cultures. Together, they formed a force greater than the sum of their parts, their golden uniforms gleaming like the sun as they trained, competed, and inspired. The golden kit was more than attire—it was a mantle of responsibility and a mark of achievement.

For Zayed, a young man with boundless determination, the allure of the Golden Team was irresistible. He imagined himself standing alongside his brothers, united in purpose, their golden kits glowing in unison. But to join their ranks required more than physical strength. It demanded discipline, resilience, and an unwavering commitment to the collective.

The Mentor and the Message

Among the Golden Team’s senior members was Zayed, a seasoned athlete whose name resonated within the team like a legend. A veteran of countless challenges, Zayed had become both a leader and a guide. He saw potential in the young recruit who shared his name and took him under his wing.

“You’ve got the strength,” the elder Zayed said, his golden vest gleaming as he placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “But strength alone doesn’t make you one of us. The kit shines brightest for those who train not just for themselves, but for their brothers. You’ll find your place when you focus on the team, not the mirror.”

The words struck the younger Zayed deeply. From that day forward, his workouts took on a new meaning. He pushed himself not just for his own improvement but to match the collective strength of the Golden Team.

The Struggle and the Glow

Each day brought new challenges. Some days, Zayed trained barefoot, the cool gym floor grounding him as he pushed through grueling circuits. Other days, he slipped on simple white socks for sprints and agility drills. But the constant was the golden kit—a tank top that seemed to pulse with its own energy. As Zayed progressed, the vest’s shimmer grew brighter, almost as if it reflected his growing connection to the team.

The trials weren’t just physical. One test required him to lift a barbell heavier than anything he had attempted before. His legs shook, his muscles burned, and for a moment, he doubted himself. But then he caught sight of the elder Zayed in the corner, nodding silently, his golden kit gleaming with quiet assurance.

The younger Zayed took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and let out a roar as he hoisted the weight above his head. The gym erupted in cheers, the sound of unity carrying him through the final rep.

“That’s how you do it,” the elder Zayed said afterward, clapping him on the back. “When you carry the weight, you carry it for all of us.”

The Team and the Kit

As Zayed moved through the ranks, he began to notice the true power of the Golden Team. It wasn’t just their strength or their discipline—it was their connection. Athletes from different countries and cultures, united under a single golden banner, moved as one.

Their golden kits weren’t just uniforms—they were symbols of the unity they represented. Whether they were sprinting on a track, lifting in the gym, or strategizing together, their golden gear gleamed with a light that seemed to come from within.

Zayed’s own kit began to transform. No longer just a tank top, it felt like an extension of his body, glowing brighter as his connection to the team deepened.

Toward the Summit

The day Zayed was inducted into the core team was unlike any other. The gym buzzed with energy as the multinational group of athletes gathered around him. The elder Zayed stood at the front, his golden kit shining like the sun.

“You’ve earned this,” the mentor said, holding out a pristine, glowing golden tank. “But remember—the kit is only as bright as the bond you share with your brothers. It will demand more of you every day. Are you ready to serve?”

“I am,” the younger Zayed said, his voice steady.

As he pulled on the golden tank, he felt a surge of energy, a warmth that seemed to flow from the kit itself. Around him, the team erupted into cheers, their collective strength lighting up the room.

A New Beginning

As Zayed stood among his new brothers, the golden kit glowing in harmony with theirs, he realized this was just the beginning. Every lift, every sprint, every bead of sweat was a step toward something greater—not just personal excellence, but the collective power of the Golden Team.

The floor beneath his feet, whether bare or covered, was a reminder of where he had come from. But the golden kit—the symbol of his transformation—was a reminder of where he was going. Together, with his brothers, Zayed would carry the team’s mission forward, glowing brighter with every step.

Ready to join the team?

The Golden Army awaits. Contact us and take your place.

@brodygold @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001

[partly-cloudyskies]

Red Birthright - Chapter 7

A WFM Star Wars AU

Realspace snapped into focus as they came to the coordinates of… wherever they were. Miorine didn’t much trust Nika, who was disarmingly friendly and a suspicious person might believe Shaddiq had chosen her to be his go-between specifically because of that. But Miorine was short on alternatives and Shaddiq hardly needed to go to much length to trap her.

And if he did, then they—no, she would deal with it.

Miorine winced and chided herself. Right. She couldn’t fall into that trap.

Let them come. And… face us. She had really said that. It made grit her teeth. The words had been spoken with haste and heady adrenaline. She had been… she… it was…

Easy. Too easy. That’s how she knew the words were wrong.

Mistakes were easy to make and relying on Suletta’s strength would be a mistake. She could not expect the Sith to stand by her. Even as Shaddiq and Guel and uncounted numbers more were after her. Miorine could feel them bear down on her as if they had their hands on her wrists right now, binding her.

The desire to seek help—no, run away, make someone else deal with her troubles—was powerful. Irresistible.

Dependency was a drug, as potent as spice. She must resist it.

[delivermytuneo6]

Creating Memories with Timeless Tracks

Music is more than just sound; it’s a bridge to our memories, a balm for our souls, and an amplifier of our joy. The songs we listen to often become intertwined with pivotal moments in our lives, from the rhythm of a favorite dance track to the lyrics of an emotional ballad. Whether you’re celebrating a birthday, reflecting on your journey, or simply indulging in a moment of nostalgia, the right song can make all the difference.

In this article, we explore the magic of music across various themes—from Shakira’s globally renowned hits to animal-inspired melodies that spark creativity. Get ready to dive into a musical world that connects cultures, celebrates individuality, and brings people closer together.

Main Body (700+ words):

The Enchantment of Shakira Popular Songs

Shakira’s music is an irresistible blend of passion, rhythm, and storytelling. Her ability to weave Latin, pop, and world music influences has made her an international icon. Tracks like "Hips Don’t Lie" and "Waka Waka" are more than just dance numbers—they’re cultural phenomena. Shakira popular songs showcase her unparalleled versatility and have left an indelible mark on fans across the globe. Listening to her music is not just an auditory experience but also a celebration of artistry and innovation.

Hollywood Birthday Songs: Adding Spark to Special Days

What’s a birthday without a great song? Hollywood has gifted us countless tunes that elevate the joy of celebrations. From the timeless “Happy Birthday” melody to Stevie Wonder’s soulful rendition, these tracks are staples in parties worldwide. Hollywood birthday songs bring together upbeat rhythms and heartfelt lyrics, creating an ambiance of happiness and togetherness. Whether you’re hosting a bash or enjoying a quiet day with loved ones, the right birthday song adds that extra touch of magic.

Eminem Albums: A Legacy of Grit and Greatness

Few artists have impacted music as deeply as Eminem. His ability to channel raw emotion into his songs has earned him legions of devoted fans. Each of the Eminem albums tells a unique story—from the rebellious energy of "The Slim Shady LP" to the introspective depth of "Recovery." Tracks like "Lose Yourself" and "Stan" showcase his lyrical brilliance and ability to connect with listeners on a profound level. Eminem’s music is not just for rap enthusiasts—it’s for anyone who values authenticity and emotion in art.

Miley Cyrus Top Songs: A Journey of Evolution

Miley Cyrus has evolved from a teen idol to a bold and dynamic artist who constantly reinvents herself. Her hits resonate with audiences across age groups, thanks to their relatable themes and infectious melodies. Songs like "Party in the USA" are feel-good anthems, while "Wrecking Ball" and "Midnight Sky" reflect her vulnerability and growth. Miley Cyrus top songs highlight her ability to embrace change and inspire fans with her journey. Her music celebrates individuality and encourages listeners to embrace their true selves.

The Creative Joy of Animal-Themed Songs

Animal-themed songs are a delightful genre that sparks creativity and joy. Whether it’s The Beatles’ "Blackbird" or Survivor’s "Eye of the Tiger," these tracks often carry symbolic meanings, representing strength, freedom, or resilience. Animal themed songs are perfect for adding whimsy to playlists or finding inspiration in nature. They appeal to listeners of all ages, offering a unique way to celebrate the beauty of the animal kingdom through music.

Conclusion (200+ words): Music has an incredible power to evoke emotions, create memories, and bring people together. From Shakira’s dance-worthy anthems to Eminem’s raw and relatable albums, the diversity of music ensures there’s something for everyone. Hollywood birthday songs remind us of the joy of celebrations, while Miley Cyrus inspires us with her journey of self-discovery. And let’s not forget the charm of animal-themed songs that add a touch of creativity and fun to our playlists.

Each song tells a story, and as listeners, we get to weave these melodies into the fabric of our lives. So whether you’re dancing, reflecting, or celebrating, let the music play and make every moment unforgettable. What song has made the biggest impact on your life? Share your favorites in the comments and let’s celebrate the power of music together!

[musicarenagh]

"Dark Star" by Thrillkiller: A Titanic Fusion of Sounds and Styles Every day, new stars emerge in the ever-expanding musical universe, striving for attention and affection. Among the rising celestial bodies, a particularly brilliant one is “Dark Star,” the latest single from Thrillkiller. This sonic masterpiece meticulously merges the styles of synthwave, rock, metal, funk, and eurobeat into a titanic explosion of epicness. Its anthemic power harks back to the 80's rock vibe, making it an instant classic that will resonate with both nostalgic and modern music lovers alike. https://open.spotify.com/track/1zR4AUU5gHebXhXddJR7eZ?si=de26e29038284012 The first thing you'll notice about Thrillkiller's “Dark Star” is the lead singer's impressive male vocals. His voice is a lovely combination of power and fragility, articulating a wide spectrum of emotions that will sweep you up and transport you to the galaxy of the mind. The vocals are reminiscent of Freddie Mercury and David Bowie, their echoes reverberating throughout the track, connecting the golden era of rock to the present day. Musically, “Dark Star” is a rollercoaster ride through the collective memory of different genres. The track's synthwave elements are electrifying, a pulsating undercurrent that pushes the song forward, while the metal and rock components provide a sense of grit and edge. The surprise appearance of funk and eurobeat influences adds an unexpected layer of depth and groove, creating an irresistible urge to dance and headbang at the same time. The production on “Dark Star” is nothing short of stellar. Each instrument is expertly balanced, allowing every note to shine through without overpowering the others. The synth sounds are lush and atmospheric, painting a cosmic soundscape that transports listeners to another realm. The guitars roar like celestial beings while the drums and bass provide a gravitational pull that keeps everything grounded. “Dark Star” by Thrillkiller is a tour-de-force of musical styles and influences that manages to evoke both nostalgia and modernity. The track's epic, anthemic quality is underpinned by powerful male vocals, a diverse fusion of genres, and lyrics that explore the depth of the human strength. Follow Thrillkiller on Website, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and Instagram.

[wisteriashouse]

irresistible.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff, nsfw, fuck or die troupe (i can’t believe i did this)

word count: 5015

remarks: a commission by the lovely @sburbanjumble​!! i hope you enjoy sweet and spicy kyoujurou <3 this is a rewrite of desire, but if kyoujurou were the one hit by the demon instead!

This demon is unlike any other you’ve ever faced before.

“Kyoujurou, follow up on my attack!” You shout as you press forward with your blade, putting all your strength in your arms as you aim for the demon’s neck. Eyes widening as your nichirin blade descends in a gleaming arc, the demon barely manages to throw up her arms in time to shield herself, and there’s a couple of wet thumps as her limbs fall to the grass, sliced clean off by your sword. Behind you, Kyoujurou leaps down, his sword held high as he swings.

“Flame Breathing, Third Form, Blazing Universe!”

You have to leap out of the way to dodge the shockwaves from Kyouojurou’s strike, so powerful that you feel the ground under your feet tremble for a second. Unfortunately for the both of you, the demon is just as fast as well - before Kyoujurou’s sword can cut clean through her neck, she vanishes in a cloud of sickly smelling smoke.

Your eyes dart around the darkness of the forest, blade already held up in an offensive stance for the slightest signal to attack, but Kyoujurou lands nimbly in front of you, holding out one hand to pull you back and the other gripping his own sword tight.

“We still don’t know what her abilities are or what her smoke does. Don’t be too hasty,” he warns you, voice low. Adrenaline is still pumping through your veins, but at your partner’s stern words, you force yourself to take a few breaths to calm yourself down. Breathe in, breathe out. Calm down.

“Okay, I got it.” Adjusting the grip on your sword once more, you let out a breath and hold up your blade. “I got caught up in the moment for a bit. Sorry about that.”

The battle hardened expression on Kyoujurou’s face breaks for just a second to beam at you warmly, and its familiarity puts you at ease. “It’s no problem,” Kyoujurou smiles. “You know I’ve always got your back no matter what-” his eyes widen for a split second at something behind you. “Watch out!”

Out of nowhere, however, five shining claws erupt out of the shadows straight towards you - only your reflexes, honed from years of training, allow you to dodge by jumping back right in time, the trace of a sickly sweet scent tickling your nose. Its regeneration speed is fast. Behind you, Kyoujurou slashes at the demon once more, but it vanishes into the darkness of the forest before the blade can connect. Disoriented and senses thrown into disarray by the sudden attack, you almost don’t notice fangs bared at you until it’s too late.

“[name]!” There’s a forceful tug on your arm and you’re sent stumbling forward a few steps, clouds of fuschia pink smoke erupting into the air right where you’d been standing less than a second ago. You’re left coughing and hacking as a sickly fragrance, but through the murky haze clouding your mind, you remember Kyoujurou, who was left standing in the spot that you’d been in prior.

“Kyoujurou!” Gripping your sword tightly with one hand and waving the residue smoke away from your face with the other, your eyes dart about the clearing, searching for Kyoujurou. “Are you alright?”

You find Kyoujurou surrounded by thick clouds of smoke and his hands clasped over his mouth, the demon responsible for it all cackling madly as she raises her claws, pointed tips glinting in the dim light of the moon. Before she can bring them down, however, you lunge forward with your blade with a forward strike, the tip of your blade piercing clean through her shoulder and pinning her against a tree. The pained scream that she lets out must have been heard for miles around.

You take this brief moment to glance back at Kyoujurou, heart hammering wildly in your chest with concern. “Kyoujurou, are you alright?” You call, voice urgent. Kyoujurou does not reply, instead shaking his head firmly as he hunches over, clearly in discomfort. Poison, perhaps? Anxiety floods through you, but you steel yourself and turn back to the demon.

“What did your smoke do to him?”

The demon only laughs at your demand, even as blood trickles down the wound on her shoulder. “Did you really think I would tell you? Think again! As if I would ever tell an accursed demon slayer like you-”

Gripping your sword by the handle, you wrench it with all your might and the demon lets out another shriek of agony, so shrill you can feel your ears ringing. “Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time,” you say icily, teeth gritted. While you take no pleasure in causing another creature’s pain, even demons, there’s only so much dallying you can take when Kyoujurou is suffering behind you. “Tell me, and I will speed your passing. If not...” You raise your sword in a wordless warning.

It is brief, but you catch the faintest flicker of fear in the demon’s eyes as she stares up at you. For good measure, you tighten your grip on your sword once more, ready to drive it into her flesh a second time, but she speaks.

“Fine,” she spits, her glare so venomous you can almost feel it eating away at your skin. “My smoke causes an... arousal of the human senses, sending them into overdrive and consuming the mind. If that man doesn’t lie with someone...” her smile is fanged with wicked amusement, “his mind will go insane with lust and he’ll suffer in agonizing pain!”

At her words, your breath is caught in your throat. As much as you want to say that all demons do is lie, from the look in her eyes to the triumphant grin on her blood stained lips, all the signs say that she is telling the truth. Unfortunately, you don’t have the time nor luxury to ponder over this too much, not when every second counts now.

“Then, just as I promised.” Yanking your sword from her flesh, you decapitate her with one swift strike - too fast for her to even let out another scream. Even before her severed head has hit the ground, you’re already running to Kyoujurou’s side, the man having sagged to his knees and only kept upright by the sword he’s driven into the ground to use as a crutch. Crouching next to him, you support his weight as gently as you can, but the heat radiating off his skin takes you by surprise. “Kyoujurou, you’re burning up!”

“I… I’m sorry,” Kyoujurou barely manages to make out between laboured breaths, his face twisted from the discomfort. Quickly, you raise a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, but his hand latches onto your wrist before you can so much as touch his bare skin. He’s trembling faintly, as hard as he tries to conceal it from you, and it almost scares you to see him like this. “Don’t… Not when I’m like this. You should probably leave.”

“What?” You hiss at him, equal parts angry and baffled. “This isn’t a matter of pride, Kyoujurou! I know that you’re a Pillar, but you’ll most definitely not be fine like this. We need to get you to the nearest village, then we can think about what we can do from there. Maybe they’ll have strong enough painkillers that will be able to knock you out for a while, or something to help alleviate the pain-”

“The nearest village is at least a day’s travel from here,” Kyoujurou cuts you off, shaking his head urgently. “And besides, it’s not safe for you to be here with me right now.” You catch him glancing at you for a second before his gaze leaves you, but is that a hint of… desire you see flickering in his eyes? “The state the demon has put my body in is an unprecedented one… I don’t know what I’ll do to you like this. It would be safer if you put some distance between the two of us… I can already feel it growing worse.”

At his words, you frown in confusion for a moment before realisation descends upon you. So that’s what the demon had meant by arousal of the senses…

“But I can’t just leave you like this,” you begin to protest, anxious, but Kyoujurou waves you off.

“I’ll be fine.” Even though he’s the one in this state, he’s still trying to reassure you. “The blood demon art should wear off when dawn comes, so I need only endure this,” he shudders, body tensing up for a second, “until morning. There’s no need for you to worry.”

Even as Kyoujurou says these words, you can see his body starting to shake almost violently, his jaw clenched so hard that you can see the veins protruding along the side of his neck. It just makes you feel even worse when you remember that he had only gotten into this situation trying to save you, or else your roles would be reversed right now. Sunrise is still hours away. Chewing on your bottom lip, you force yourself to concentrate. Think, think, think! What did the demon say about his condition earlier?

If that man doesn’t lie with someone…

You falter for a moment. By lie, she can’t possibly have meant…

There’s no other meaning for the word lie that can be applied in this context, is there?

You glance worriedly at Kyoujurou, but the man only shakes his head. He must have heard the demon’s words from earlier and already made up his mind, without so much as consulting you, no less. Stupid, selfless, self sacrificing Kyoujurou. When will he learn to put himself before others for a change? Does he have any idea how you’ll feel leaving him to suffer like this until sunrise comes, all while knowing that you could have done something to fix this?

For some reason, that thought only frustrates you to no end, and making up your mind with that, you reach for the top button of your uniform.

Before you can begin undoing your shirt, however, Kyoujurou’s hand grips latches around your wrist, so hard you can almost feel the beginning of bruises forming on your skin. Kyoujurou is always careful whenever it comes to you, so it’s a testament to the extent that the blood demon art has affected him, his self control slipping away with each passing second. When you look up at him questioningly, his brow is furrowed with confusion, lips parted.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You hiss back, but you can feel your own fingers trembling slightly from the nerves. “If you… lie with me, it should relieve the pain brought about by the demon’s blood art. Friends would do this for each other, wouldn’t they?”

Would they, though? The thought just makes you uncomfortable, so you simply shrug it aside. You can think about that after you’ve solved Kyoujurou’s problem. However, Kyoujurou’s answer takes you by surprise.

“I cannot,” Kyoujurou says immediately, voice so firm you’re taken by surprise for a second. Is he perhaps worried about your discomfort? In comparison to the pain he seems to be in now, body wracked with shivers and teeth gritted so hard you can almost hear his jaw creak, it will be nothing.

“I really don’t mind,” you begin to say, but Kyoujurou cuts you off once more.

“No.”

“Kyoujurou, this is not the time to be stubborn,” you try to shrug him off, but the grip he has on your wrist is too tight. Frustrated, you glare up at Kyoujurou. You want to help him, but you can’t do anything if he insists on being like this. “Why do you reject me? Is it because I’m not good enough for you? To the point that you’d prefer to suffer like this?”

The more you shout, the more frustrated you feel, tears starting to escape the corners of your eyes. His rejection does sting, yes, but more than that is the helplessness you feel when you see him in pain, yet are unable to do anything to alleviate it.

“So you’re telling me to just walk away?” You continue to shout, voice breaking. Your throat feels thick. “Well, curse it, Kyoujurou, I can’t just do something like that. I-”

A gentle pressure on your lips cuts your words off, and you look up in surprise through wet lashes to see Kyoujurou’s finger pressed against your mouth to silence you. There’s a conflicted expression on his face, caught between a pained frown and a tender smile.

“Don’t say that,” he rasps quietly, managing a smile to comfort you even through his own pain. “You shouldn’t give your body so easily to me... it should be saved for the person that you want to give your heart to. Didn’t you tell me before that… there’s someone who you hold feelings for?”

You stare at him in shock. Why is he still thinking about something like this even now? And besides…

“I cannot possibly let you do that knowing that you have feelings for someone else,” Kyoujurou continues. He’s struggling to get the words out now, his breaths shallow. “So, there is no need to worry about me, I assure you that I will be fine-”

“What if,” your words come out a whisper, “I told you that someone is you?”

For a moment, nothing but those words hang in the silence between the two of you. Kyoujurou’s eyes are wide with shock, but you force yourself to hold his gaze, unwilling to back down. You’re determined to convey every bit of genuinity in your heart and make it known - perhaps the demon was in fact a blessing in disguise that created the circumstance to put aside your cowardice and reveal your true feelings to him now.

“I understand if you don’t return my feelings,” you say firmly, before Kyoujurou can say a word. “However, I too, assure you… that doing this with you…” it feels strange, saying it out loud like this, “it wouldn’t be a bad thing… to me at least. So please, let me help you.”

Kyoujurou is still staring at you, but then he lets out a pained groan and crumples over, unable to keep himself upright any longer. Frantic, you race over to help him up, but the second you touch him, you feel a pair of hands grip your waist before the entire night sky above seems to flip over your head. The next thing you know, you’re on your back in the grass, Kyoujurou straddling your hips. You can’t see the expression on his face, his breath ghosting the side of your neck.

You swallow, but raise a hand to rest it on the top of his head comfortingly. “You okay, Kyoujurou?”

“Ahh… this wasn’t how I wanted to do this,” Kyoujurou murmurs against the shell of your ear, and you almost yelp when you feel teeth roughly scrape the delicate skin.

“W-what, what do you mean?”

“It should have started with my confession,” your momentary shock is cast aside when you feel a large hand sliding up your side, up your ribs to the collar of your uniform shirt, playing at the top button as if to distract himself. “I would have brought you out to dinner, perhaps some flowers… and yet here we are, doing everything backwards. On the forest floor, no less. It is not the place I would have chosen for our first time together.”

All you can manage is a laugh, something akin to warmth burning in your chest as quiet joy overflows. “As long as it’s with you, I don’t mind,” you whisper. Taking his hand, you place it firmly against the top of your collar, the brass of your button cool against your joined hands. “So please, Kyoujurou.”

You can feel it, the deep breath he takes before he descends, mouth kissing along the bare skin of your neck while his hand deftly undoes the buttons of your uniform. Before you have time to be nervous, Kyoujurou’s lips are already on the slope of your collarbones, nipping and sucking lightly as you gasp. “Beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, and you have to fight back your blush.

As your top slips off your shoulders, leaving you exposed to his gaze, you shiver slightly as the cold of the night air leaves goosebumps on your skin. Kyoujurou, ever attentive, notices right away. “Don’t worry,” his fingers trail down your side, before they’re replaced by his lips, hot against your bare skin. The sensation is foreign, a little ticklish even, but strangely welcome, and you have to try not to squirm. “I’ll warm you up in a moment.”

His hands tug at the buckle of your belt even as he continues to map out your body with his mouth, leaving little bruises and marks on you. They sting pleasantly, and with each new one Kyoujurou adds to your skin, you fight back a little moan at the feeling, pressing your legs together to alleviate the strange ache there. Although the night is cool, you feel hot, burning up together with Kyoujurou as he makes good on his promise to warm you up. Perhaps the demon’s blood art is contagious? You wouldn’t mind...

There’s a metallic clink, and the belt around your waist loosens before it slides off you, falling to the ground with a soft thump. Your uniform pants follow soon after, slipped down your legs together with your undergarments, and it’s then you feel cool air brushing against you right there.

Suddenly shy, you press your thighs together, unable to bear the way Kyoujurou’s eyes rake over your body almost hungrily. Still, for all his desire, he remains patient with you, coaxing your legs open carefully with a gentle touch that you can’t help but obey. Fingers skimming up your legs, first from your ankles up to the crook of your knee and finally to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, you bite back a whimper the closer his touch comes to where you need it most.

Slowly, almost carefully, Kyoujurou runs the tip of his fingers along your damp folds and you shudder, the seemingly light touch intensifying ten fold and sending little shockwaves of pleasure down your body. It feels strange, but your body chases it of its own accord, pressing against his hand in a silent plea for more.

“Does it feel good?” Kyoujurou whispers, and you nod urgently. Anything to get rid of that aching, sudden emptiness in you.

“Please,” your voice comes out as a whine, and if you weren’t so aroused you would be mortified by how needy you sound. Isn’t it supposed to be Kyoujurou who is affected by the demon’s spell? “Touch me, Kyoujurou.”

“Mmm, don’t be impatient,” his thumb rubs circles over you, its glide made effortless by the slick now coating his fingers. The pressure relieves you for a second before an even more intense need crashes hot on its heels, unrelenting. When you whine again, all composure now thrown to the wind, Kyoujurou bites his lip and probes, his finger parting your folds to sink into you slowly. Your gasp catches in your throat, and all you can do is let your head fall back as your walls tighten around him, as if trying to keep him inside you.

“More,” you plead, nearly begging him now. One finger isn’t nearly enough, and Kyoujurou proceeds to press another into you even as you squirm on his fingers. A short, bitten off moan escapes you when he starts to move his fingers at a leisurely pace, pumping them in and out of you with an obscene squelching sound. “Kyoujurou, don’t tease.”

“I need to make sure I don’t hurt you,” you tremble under him when he begins to scissor you carefully, making sure to stretch you out so that you’ll be able to take him more easily later. Eager for more but unable to complain, you move your hips towards his hands so that his fingers can press deeper into you, shuddering when his fingers crook against a certain spot. Reaching up, you curl your hands at the nape of his neck and tugging him down towards you so that you can kiss him.

His tongue licks into your mouth, hot and wet, as his fingers still continue to move in you. Arching your back in an attempt to draw closer to him, you suck on his tongue lightly and Kyoujurou lets out a groan, a rumble from deep within his chest.

“Ready, ready,” you break the kiss to tell him, helplessly fucking yourself on his fingers. Pleasure sets every nerve ending alight, from the tips of your fingers to your toes. “Please, Kyoujurou.”

Kyoujurou’s eyes gleam, but you too, can see how badly he needs it. He’s trembling, almost feverishly now, but still he manages a smile as he looks down at you. “Always so impatient with me,” he dips down to plunder your mouth once more, rough and forceful this time, curling his fingers in you and causing you to pant into his mouth. This draws a slight laugh out of him. His fingers slip out of you, and you let out a long, keening whine in complaint.

“Don’t worry,” he squeezes your thigh and you shiver at the look in his eyes. “I promise I won’t leave you wanting.”

Even through the feeling of Kyoujurou’s body on yours and his lips of your skin, you faintly hear the clink of a belt being undone. A moan of anticipation leaves you, and you can’t help but part your legs in response. You need more, more to alleviate the burning ache in you that just doesn’t seem to abate.

Something presses against your entrance, hard and heavy, and your hips press against it involuntarily, demanding more. To your confusion, Kyoujurou doesn’t enter you immediately, instead taking a moment to run his length up and down your folds, and you let out a pathetic little moan when he denies you. Kyoujurou laughs, but it’s rougher, lower this time.

“Impatient,” he repeats, leaning over you. You look up at him pleadingly, sure that tears are gathering in the corner of your eyes from how badly you need it, but Kyoujurou leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Tell me you want it.”

You gape at him, words leaving you for a second at his sudden demand. “Wha-”

“I need to know that you want this as much as I do.” Kyoujurou’s hands trace the spot over your heart, littered with bruises that will probably turn into dark red blooms tomorrow morning. “Tell me with your own words and your mouth that you want this.”

“I-” You flush, biting your bottom lip in embarrassment. The words feel almost shameful on your tongue, but you remind yourself that this is Kyoujurou. “I…” Your voice comes out hushed, barely above a whisper. “I want you, Kyoujurou. I really do.”

Kyoujurou smiles in response, kissing you gently. His hands slide down to your knees, parting your legs and coaxing them to wrap around his waist, which you obey immediately. That’s when you feel him begin to press into you, parting your folds and slowly sinking into you. At first, the stretch is still bearable, but the further he slides into you, you can’t help but let out a little cry as you stretch more to accommodate his length.

“Too much?” Kyoujurou presses kisses to your hair, the crown of your head. You shake your head determinedly, tightening the hold your legs have around his waist.

“N-no, keep going,” you say, clinging to his form. Kyoujurou looks over you with concern in his eyes, before he nips comfortingly on your lower lip.

“You can bite down on me if you want,” he whispers, kissing the side of your neck. “I’ll try to be gentle.”

With those words, he begins moving again, and you fight back another sob as he stretches you open further. Unable to stand the pain, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, teeth latching onto his shoulder. True to his word, Kyoujurou doesn’t even flinch when your teeth break his skin. Instead, he only rubs soothing circles into the bare skin of your thigh in a silent bid to comfort.

You’re no stranger to pain, and you’ve trained in many ways to dull it in your years as a demon slayer. Taking a deep breath, you focus your mind and instruct your body to relax, allowing Kyoujurou to slip deeper into you. After a few moments, the pain begins to abate, and you carefully regulate your breathing before you grip his hand tight.

He glances down at you and you nod wordlessly. With a gentle squeeze of your hip, Kyoujurou begins to move once more, and although the ache still lingers, it has already started to dull, replaced by that feeling of fullness that you had experienced earlier with Kyoujurou’s fingers in you, only this time magnified a hundredfold.

When he finally sinks in you all the way to the hilt, you pause for a moment to adjust to the near overwhelming feeling of being filled so completely, busying yourself with sucking marks into Kyoujurou’s neck like he’d done for you earlier. Kyoujurou groans lowly in his throat, murmuring words of encouragement with each mark you leave on his skin - he seems pleased about it. When your teeth latch on to the lobe of his ear, Kyoujurou begins pulling out of you, much to your despair, but before you can whine about it once more, Kyoujurou slams back into you with a smooth, forceful thrust, and your words turn into nothing more than a choked gasp trapped in your throat.

After that, he doesn’t give you a second to breathe, hips pistoning in you with fervour, and all you can do is lie back and take it, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Kyoujurou runs his mouth over your shoulder, your forehead, your collarbone. Faintly, you feel Kyoujurou’s hand work its way between your bodies, coming to a stop at where your bodies are joined. Before you can ask what he’s doing, his fingers slip down to worry your clit roughly and you let out a cry, nails digging into the skin at his back and arms as you cling to him. Kyoujurou hums, a pleased, satisfied sound and only redoubles his efforts, causing your body to tremble with sensation.

The pleasure builds up in you, almost overwhelming, a wave of pleasure surging straight for you. Before you can warn Kyoujurou, it crashes over you and a high pitched sob works its way out of your throat, your body trying to curl up on itself as if that will alleviate the intensity that’s overtaking your body. Above you, you distantly register Kyoujurou’s low groan as his thrusts lose their rhythm before he pulls out of you completely, something warm splattering on your thigh.

Too tired to form words, you simply hold out your arms and Kyoujurou instantly moves into them, tugging you into his hold so that you can rest your head on his shoulder. Already, you can feel the beginnings of an ache in your legs and arms, and from what the older demon slayers have told you before, your… abdomen would probably feel the same way as well tomorrow. Still, you think, looking up at Kyoujurou’s flushed but content face, you think that this was completely worth it.

A gentle kiss to your temple pulls you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see Kyoujurou with a slight smile on his face as he gazes down at you. “Are you feeling alright? I might have been a bit too rough there.” His fingertips trace your bare shoulders, the love bites at your neck, and finally your lips. You shake your head, content to go limp against him as he cradles you carefully.

“No, I’m fine.” Glancing up at him, you wonder if the flush on his cheeks is from the earlier exertion or if he’s still affected by the demon’s spell. You try to raise a hand, but overestimate your strength - your hand falls back to your lap before it can even reach halfway to his forehead. Still, Kyoujurou only picks up your own hand with his and presses it to his forehead for you, and you’re relieved to find out that although his body temperature is running warm, it’s nothing like the unnatural heat that had been burning him up from before. “It’s good that you’re alright now.”

“[name]...” The solemnity of Kyoujurou’s voice takes you by surprise. When you glance at him, you see him looking at you with a slightly furrowed brow, hesitation flickering in his golden eyes. “The words you spoke earlier, about the person that you had feelings for being me… was that the truth?”

You blink at him, slightly confused. Had you not been genuine enough with your feelings earlier? Determined to put this doubt to rest, you grab him by the cheeks with a strength that you certainly didn’t have earlier, pulling him close so that your foreheads are pressed against each other’s and you can feel his breath dancing over your skin.

“You, yes you.” You repeat, punctuating each word with a kiss to his lips, which helplessly turn up in a smile under your affections. You can’t help the smile on your face that mirrors his own, his happiness palpable and all too contagious. “I can’t believe that it took a situation like this for me to confess. You better make it up to me, you hear me?”

Kyoujurou laughs, nuzzling your neck. “Okay, okay. The sequence is out of order now but,” he smiles at you, “how about I bring you out to dinner? My treat, of course.”

You have to press your face against his shoulder to hide your smile.

“That sounds lovely.”

[imaslutforremusandsirius]

Can you please do a mean Dom Harry smut

His sanity

Guess who's back

Warning: 18+

---

The door to your shared home slammed shut with a deafening thud, followed by heavy footsteps. You jerked with momentary fear of the intrusion until you saw Harry standing in the doorstep of your living room.

You put your book upside down on the couch and get up to greet Harry properly. When you were close enough to see your boyfriend‘s emotionless expression, your smile went from happy to timid, until it disappeared completely. Harry seemed to be looking right through you, his whole body trembling with an effort to keep his magic inside. His aura was overwhelming, so intense that you stayed a few steps away from him so as not to be completely surrounded by it.

Harry seemed to notice your mistrust and carefully put his wand on the side, his green eyes now fixed on yours. Not that that would make a big difference, he could crush you without the stupid stick if he wanted to, but it was a sign to you. A sign that he was still in control, even if only scantily.

It was deathly quiet for a passing moment and a trembling breath escaped your drying lips. You hadn't even noticed to what extent Harry's magic was crushing you until he closed his eyes and seconds later the air seemed more bearable again.

You knew that this night could end dangerously, that Harry's sanity was hanging on a millimeter thin strand, but no matter how hard your brain tried to stop you, your feet had already made their decision. Only when you felt his warm breath on your lips did you realize that you had moved. Harry was motionless, hands still shaking, clenched in firm fists.

There was a gleam in his eyes, something that resembled a warning. You couldn't hold yourself and in the second in which you hugged your warm body against his trembling one, Harry's disciplined posture shattered into a million pieces. He buried his trembling hands in your hair and pressed you closer to him, his mouth dominated yours with so much strength, as if he was trying to drown in the taste of your lips.

Harry pulled and tore at your clothes until you stood completely naked in his arms. His hands were everywhere and nowhere at the same time, never long enough in the places that ached for his touches. Taking quick strides he forced you to walk backwards, pushing you into a seating position on the couch. You stared up at him compliantly, making him smirk at you with obvious delight. Your book long forgotten on the cold floor.

He was silent when he opened the buttons of his shirt, his bright eyes followed your hands and he watched you as you undid his belt. He lifted his brow as your hands left his body to rest submissively on your thighs.

„Did I tell you to stop?“ He whispered softly, teeth gritted together.

You shook your head and blinked up at him, mulling over your next sentence.

„You didn‘t tell me what you want...“ You said softly, not wanting to awaken his anger, which was simmering very close to the surface. You saw it glinting impatiently behind his irises, waiting for the perfect moment to sink its teeth into your soft flesh.

„Want me to spell it out for you? Get on your fucking knees and suck my cock.“ He hissed, eyes flashing with irritation.

You immediately fell on your knees, barely feeling the pain and pulled on his clothes until they rested by his ankles. His cock hit your face and you looked up at your boyfriend, tongue outstretched to lick the underside. Harry's control burned through and he pulled your head back until your neck protested with the pain. His other hand smeared his cock on your lips and cheeks, spreading his cum on your skin and smiled as the lower half of your face shone with him. Oh exactly this view he wanted to burn into his brain forever, you on your knees like his personal whore, nothing else but the thought of his cock in your stupid head.

His hand on your jaw opened your mouth wide to insert his cock, deep needy moans escaping him when you ran your tongue along the underside of the tip. Without paying attention to your well-being he started to fuck your mouth, eyes narrowed and lips parted, his groans were so desperate, he sounded like your mouth couldn't satisfy the hunger in him. Harry wanted to be inside of you, to he ached to hear your pretty whimpers and pleads.

„Your mouth isn‘t enough. Tell me what else can you offer me?“ Harry snarked, giving you a challenging grin.

You tried to pull away but he kept your head in place, pouting when you didn‘t answer.

„What is it, can‘t talk?“ Harry chuckled, eyes flashing with evil amusement when you struggled to breathe with his cock stuffing your mouth full.

„How rude of you. I should teach you a less-“ Harry‘s voice broke off with a surprised gasp and his hips bucked forward. He gave you a glare and you only sucked him harder for it, knowing that you were pushing his buttons just right.

„You wanna play? Hm? Is that it?“ Harry grunted, already forcing your head to lean on the seat of the couch, one knee resting beside your head. „Alright, take it then.“

Nothing could have prepared you for the punishing thrust of his hips. He almost crushed you against the couch, his balls pressed against your chin. You were forced to stare up in this position, your vision obscured by the tears rolling down your temples, but it was worth it, Harry was irresistible in this position. Fuck, the way his head was leaned back, mouth wide open and he sounded the room with his rough voice, your name on his lips like a prayer. Jaw sharp and veins visible in his neck, upper body tense and hands buried in your hair.

Black dots danced in front of your eyes, your nails left long, angry scratch marks on his arms and legs. The pain only made him more aggressive and he pulled himself out of your mouth.

„Stop crying, you wanted to fuck me, remember?“ Harry kissed you hard again, teeth and lips met painfully but you didn't care.

„I want you to let yourself go. Show me what you want.“ He whispered hotly, groaning into your mouth when your hand wrapped around his cock again.

„Want you to fuck me, Harry please.“ You pleaded, pressing desperate kisses all over his throat, nipping at some places to leave your marks. Harry loved being covered in your bruises.

„What? Can‘t hear you, sweetheart.“

He was doing it on purpose at this point, wanting you to beg for him to take you.

„Please“ you whined, tightening your hand around him painfully, but Harry wouldn’t be Harry if he didn‘t enjoy pain.

„Please fuck me, take me-“ Your voice cut off with a sharp cry when two fingers pounded into you with such speed you came seconds later, vision exploding with a blazing white light.

„Yes, cum!“ Harry commanded, drunk on your screams of pleasure, craving to feel your cunt tighten around his cock and not his fingers.

"More" you gasped at the overstimulation but still pressed your cunt against his fingers, "Cock, want cock."

Harry proudly boasted that he reduced you into a mindless cock slut with just his fingers. He sat on the couch and gestured on his lap, arms spread out on the armrest in a dominant manner. There was that cool, dangerous shine in his green eyes again and his expression was illegible. Harry was unreachable and you wanted to see him fall.

Your breathing was irregular as you crawled up to him, your hands sliding gently over his legs. Harry let you do it and admired your naked body, his eyes fixed on the lips you are biting on.

"You wanted my cock so come on and fuck yourself with it" Harry commanded and you whined submissively, seating yourself on top of him. His cock brushed against your sensitive inner thighs, leaving a hot trail of his cum and your spit on your skin. Sinking down your eyes rolled back, lips parting into a silent o and you sat there for a few seconds, getting lost in the feeling of him so deep inside of you.

Harry's hands clung to your hips and he moved in circular motions, watching you intently as you moaned and squealed whenever your clit rubbed against his flesh or the tip of his cock hit your g-spot.

"I'm barely doing anything and you're already shaking." Harry forced out, thighs clenching under yours when you gave him a look so full of pleasure and submission that it overwhelmed him. He could do anything to you right now and you would go with it. Harry was drunk on that power, thumb pushing past your spit glistening lips to make you suck on it.

"Everyone always thinks you're so fuck do that again so fucking smart and proper, but ah look at you now..." His voice was trembling with bliss, your quick thrusts and sharp movements making him weak.

You keened, clinging on this shoulders when Harry lifted his hips to literally drill into you, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you against his sweat soaked chest.

"Should show them how dumb you are" He hissed, biting at the skin of your jaw, "Show them how much of a fucking slut you can be."

The only sounds you could make were high-pitched moans, his dirty words only made you hungrier for him.

"Only here to make me cum" Harry moaned at last, letting his deep voice flow freely in the room, "Only here to take my cum, hm?"

You cried out, going faster when you felt the familiar ache in your stomach, the tension building up rapidly.

"Yes!" you sobbed, "Give me cum pleaseplease!"

Holding you down on his cock by your shoulders Harry pounded up into your pussy, once, twice and on the third push you came with a shout, biting into the thumb he pushed inside of your mouth again. Harry let out a broken groan at the sight of your release and came only seconds later, going momentarily silent with the amount of pleasure flodding his blood. He didn't let you go, holding you down until you were dripping with his essance, uncomfortably full with him.

"There you have it" Harry mocked, breathlessly, "Full of my cum, just the way you like it."

You whimpered when he pulled out, clenching around nothing to keep in as much of him as you could. Harry pulled you on your knees and pushed you forward, craning his neck to watch his cum drip out of you.

"You're making a mess, sweetheart" His fingers pushed his cum back inside, pinching your thighs when you scrambled to get away. "Stay still, I want it to stay inside."

"Sensitive" you whispered, legs trembling to keep yourself upright on his lap.

He finally took his fingers out when he was satisfied, pushing his fingers past your lips and watch you suck them clean.

"Satisfied" He raised a brow, ready to fuck you again if you were to say no. He is a gentleman after all.

"Yes, thank you." You mumbled around his fingers, content to just lean against him and dose off with his fingers gently pushing in and out of your mouth.

Harry leaned back as well, the tension from before falling away. He let himself dose off, enjoying the calmness of his mind while it lasted.

[junosartsthetic]

for the yandere writing prompts: i for dabi?

“Irresistible. I just love it when you look at me like that.”

This went on for a lot longer than I originally planned. But it's fine.

__

Fear. That’s all your mind screamed as you limped down the narrow alleyway. You could no longer feel your right foot, the scorned appendage now dead weight as you pressed onwards.

Your quirk was no match for his, and you went in over your head. Now, you were paying the price for your overconfidence. The world spun around you as you pressed your aching palms against the wall. Your one good leg gave out, leaving you to slide down the bricks and onto the cold concrete.

With heaving breaths, you looked towards your burned foot. You tore your gaze away, gagging. You could smell the burning flesh, watching as the skin bubbled and popped even after the initial flames lapped away at your ankle.

You grit your teeth, putting your hands out to crawl forwards. You weren’t safe here. You needed backup. He would find you. Your wounds bled steadily, leaving a noticeable trail for him to follow.

“I know you’re down here!” he drawled, sending a chill through your body. You bit your lip to stop from crying. Was this the end for you?

You could hear his footsteps as he ambled behind you. “I’m getting warmer!”

You crawled faster, forcing yourself onwards.

The steps stopped, and you knew you’d been spotted.

“I appreciate your grit, hero, but you’re not leaving this alleyway.”

You hesitantly looked behind you, seeing only his fiery blue silhouette. You gulped. “I’ve already called for back-up!” you coughed out.

His laugh echoed down the alley. You could make out a rectangular device pulled from his pocket. “Liar!”

You ground your fist into the ground. “Shit.”

The steps began again, and you summoned all the strength you had left to stand, leaning against the wall as you limped forwards.

Within moments, a hand wrapped around your neck, forcing you against the wall. Your eyes met blazing blue, and you began to cry softly.

“No. No. I can’t die like this.”

Your tears evaporated as his free hand began to dance with flames. “You’re kinda pretty in the light, hero. I almost feel bad killing ya.”

Gritting your teeth, you grabbed the wrist of the arm holding your neck, squeezing it tightly. “No. I refuse to die like this.” Your adrenaline quickly turned your sadness into anger.

With a burst of strength you didn’t know you possessed, you ripped his hand from your neck, pulling it behind him as you pushed him to the ground, digging your knee into his back. You bent his arm at an angle that would break it if you pushed any harder. “Surrender, Dabi.”

He chuckled. “I’m flattered you’ve heard of me.”

He easily threw you off, standing up and tackling you to the floor. Your torso was trapped between his knees, and your hands were pinned to the ground.

You struggled angrily.

He moved your hands above your head, pinning them there with one hand as his other gripped your chin. “Quit struggling. I’d like to get a clear view of the fear in your eyes.”

You refused to show him such luxury, brows curling as you spat on him. “You’re nothing but a coward who likes to feel in control.”

He quirked a brow, caressing your cheek. “And you’re nothing but a weak little hero who tried to save the day.”

The urge to use your quirk burned inside of you, but you knew you’d black out in a second if you tried. Your vision was fading already.

You spat out one last retort before succumbing to sleep. “You’ll never win, Dabi. The heroes will always. . . defeat you.”

When you awoke, you expected to be greeted with shiny gates and a bearded messiah. Sadly, this was not the case.

The ropes which held your arms to the back of the chair dug into your wrists, and the metal chair made your spine ache. You were in a dimly lit room, and as you awoke fully you noticed it was a run-down hotel lobby. Weird place for a villain hideout. You supposed they had to move after their first place was discovered.

“When you said you caught a pro-hero, Dabi, I expected All Might. Who is this?” the grey-haired man known as Shigaraki growled, his finger pointing at you.

Dabi, who leaned against the wall coolly, shrugged. “I’m sure she’d be more than willing to introduce herself.”

You noticed the girl with space buns smile eerily. “I think she’s cute! It’s a shame I can’t cut her yet! We could be such good friends!”

Shigaraki stepped toward you. “Speak or die.”

Your eye twitched. “I’m pro-hero (hero name).”

He shook his head. “Your real name.”

“We’re not friends. You don’t need to know.”

His hand suddenly hovered inches from your face. “Answer me, hero.”

“(Y/N). It’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Dabi, she’s of no use to us. Kill her.” He stepped away from you dismissively.

“Don’t be a moron, Shigaraki,” Dabi retorted. “Imagine the bargaining power. Heroes always save their own no matter the cost.”

“Fine, but she’s your responsibility. Do what you want with her.”

With that, you were promptly knocked out again.

You didn’t awake again until a few days later, and immediately noticed you were free of restraints. You laid upon a hotel bed, your foot wrapped up messily in gauze.

You sat up, noticing nobody in the room.

You acted instantly, rushing towards the door with newfound vigor. You were met with Dabi, his hands already producing his blue flames.

“Don’t do something rash, (Y/N). You’re not getting out of here in one piece.”

“What are your plans with me,” you demanded, still in a fighting position.

“Shigaraki wants you dead, but I wanna keep you around. The league gets boring, and I want something to keep me busy. Simple as that,” he answered plainly.

“I’m not your plaything, nor do I plan to go down without a fight.”

“Oh, you will,” he replied, pulling a photo from his pocket. You recognized it instantly. Your family. “Unless you want to take your whole family down with you.”

You shuddered. “You’re sick.”

“I’m a villain, doll. What’d you expect?”

“Don’t call me doll, Dabi.”

He wiggled the photograph in front of you. “You might wanna rephrase that.”

With much force, you limped back towards the bed, sitting down. You clenched your fists. Why did you tell them your real name so easily? Idiot. Escape now seemed impossible.

“D’aww, don’t look so down, doll. I promise I’m not that bad once you get to know me!”

He sat down next to you. You cringed away.

This was the beginning of your life as a prisoner.

Weeks passed until you even spoke to Dabi again, though he was the only one entering and exiting your room. He’d bring you food and water, even providing you with soaps to use in the shower. You didn’t know what his plan was surrounding you, but you refused to simply go limp and give up.

“Dabi,” you spoke one day, causing the aforementioned man to look up from his seat on the chair. He had been on his phone, as he usually did whenever he’d sit there for hours on end.

He smirked as he met your eye. “Yes, doll?”

“Where are we right now?”

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t think I’d actually tell you that, right?”

“Fine. What are you looking at on your phone?”

Maybe if you managed to gain his trust he’d at least tell you something of use. First you had to loosen him up a bit. Throw him off his guard.

“Stuff.”

“What stuff.”

“None of your business, doll.”

You sighed. “I’ve been in here for weeks with nothing to do and nobody besides you to talk to. Throw me a bone here.”

He returned his phone to his pocket. “Okay. The floor is yours.”

“Can I at least have a TV or something? This being kidnapped thing is kinda boring. Especially since I’m not actively being threatened, killed, or tortured.”

He shot you a wink. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

You sighed. “Can you at least tell me what I’m still doing here? It’s been weeks.”

He stood from his chair, making his way to lean against the bedpost. “You’re getting real comfortable, making small talk with a villain, doll. That might come back to bite you.”

You paused. No. You weren’t comfortable at all. You were bored. And you had to gain his trust. You had a plan. You were just doing what you had to in order to get out.

Shaking the doubts away, you spoke. “Seems like you’re getting too comfortable talking with a hero.”

He smirked. “You’re still calling yourself that? Cute. But what exactly have you done lately that’s so heroic?”

You balled your hands into fists. “The only reason I’m still here is to keep my family safe. I’m protecting them. That’s what heroes do. Save people.”

“Bullshit.”

His words shocked you.

“You’re a coward. A selfish little girl who thinks she can play with the big dogs. You’re not a hero. Not anymore.”

You resisted the urge to lash out. “Shut up, Dabi.”

“You think I’m such a bad guy, doll, but in reality you and I are closer than you think.” He grabbed your chin roughly, leaning down to stare you in the eyes.

“I know you’re just barely holding it together. You’re cracking. You’re falling apart. You’re nothing. You’re not a hero. You’re pathetic. And you know it.”

You blinked away the tears forming in your eyes. “Stop. Just stop talking.”

He pushed you down, your back hitting the bed as he climbed on top of you. His hands grasped yours, pushing them against the sheets. “C’mon, doll. Being a villain ain’t so bad. Why don’t you just give in, huh? You know you were never cut out to be a hero.”

You gasped for words. “I— that’s not— I’m not a villain!”

“Not yet.”

You tried to hold it in, but tears began to flow down your face, damping the sheets.

Looking into your eyes, Dabi smiled, his eyes flaming with pleasure. “There it is. I can see it in your eyes. You’re broken now.”

You could only stare back at him, unmoving. No words fell from your mouth. He felt your body go limp. You’d stopped struggling.

He moved to grab your wrists with one hand, the other gripping your chin as he roughly pulled your head up. You hated the satisfaction on his face. You tried to look away, but his hand held you still. “Irresistible. I just love it when you look at me like that. Like you’re numb. Oh how you’ve fallen, doll.”

He leaned down, placing a chaste kiss to your lips. “But don’t worry. I’m here. I’ll piece you back together. And you’ll learn who you belong to.”

[thesightstoshowyou]

May I request a part 3 to ribbon and lace?

🥺👉🏾👈🏾

You got it, bby! Sorry this took me so long to update. I was really stuck for a bit with this one!

Wings

Asa Emory x AFAB Reader

Part 3

Read part 2 here

Summary: You’re attacked in your room and call for help.  

Warnings: Heavy gore, blood, violence, manipulation

 ~~

             Your shrill scream pierces the silence of the room, disturbing the thing standing in the doorway. It’s a person, mostly, a man. His lower jaw has been cut in half and bent outward, a morbid imitation of pincers. His tongue hangs useless against his throat, dried blood and gore staining everything from his neck down. He’s naked and stumbling, eyes wide and wild.

             He focuses on you shrieking in horror on the bed. An awful gurgle bubbles up from the hole that was his mouth. The man ambles forward, arms outstretched, reaching for you.

             You scramble backward, nearly tumbling off the other side of the bed. The man gurgles again, spitting blood and drool from his useless mouth. You ease around the edge of the bed and try to dart around him but he surprises you with a sudden burst of speed.

             He pins you to the wall with shocking strength. He’s trembling violently, his hands frigid. Looking in his eyes scares you more than the sight of his mangled face; pupil completely eclipses iris. There’s nothing behind them, no soul. He’s just a wild animal.

             You scream and thrash as blood splatters onto your face and chest when the man leans over you. He tears at your lacy undergarments, groaning and choking on the gore pouring from his face. You don’t know what he’s doing; he needs help, but there’s nothing you can do for him. You can’t think, the blood rushing in your ears distracting from any logical train of thought. Only one thing comes to mind, one plan of action.

            “ASA!” You scream as loud as you can, praying he’s still in the building, praying he hears you. You shove against the man’s bare chest, your hands slipping in blood. He’s unmovable, tenacious, nothing but raw, animalistic power. “ASA!”

            Movement out of the corner of your eye startles you. The man shrieks, spraying you with a fresh coating of blood when Asa shoves a knife between his ribs. You’re released, stumbling away to cower in the corner as Asa sinks the blade into the man’s neck.

            Arterial spray paints the wall when the blade is ripped free from flesh. The man slumps, mouth hole bubbling with a few more labored breaths. He tips over sideways and sprawls out on the floor with a heavy thud. He doesn’t move.

            You stare at the body, vision narrowing to one of his hands. The nails are missing. How much pain he must have been in.

            You’re moving, you realize belatedly. Slowly, your head swivels and you stare into the broad chest covered by a black sweater. Asa is carrying you. You blink slowly, focusing on his pristine shirt. He didn’t get a speck of blood on him….

             Asa weaves quickly through the building, past traps, through a huge room full of glass display cases. You don’t focus too hard on what’s inside. You don’t get long to look anyway before you’re whisked through another door on the right side of the room.        

             A cool, smooth surface meets your bare thighs. You open your eyes, not realizing you had closed them. You’re in a little office, walls decorated with framed insects, papers stacked neatly on an antique, wooden desk. You’re perched on a counter, Asa busy at the sink next to you.

             Warm, damp cloth scrubs against your skin. You glance down, watching as Asa dabs at the blood and gore staining the front of you. He wipes, flips the rag, wipes again, returns to the sink to rinse, repeat. You let him work and allow your eyes to go out of focus, your mind mercifully blank.

             Movement in the corner makes you refocus. Two dogs, his German Shepherds, sit politely in the corner, side by side. You’ve seen them before, briefly, but still have yet to learn their names.

             When Asa returns to the sink, you slip off the counter and approach the animals, slowly. Two tails wag when you reach them, two sets of ears flattening when you stroke the tops of their warm heads. It’s grounding, feeling their rough tongues licking the crimson from your hands.

             The man…the dead one. Asa had done that to him, butchered his face and pumped him full of drugs until he forgot he was human. You should be feeling so many things; anger, grief, horror, disgust, but the only thing you’re feeling is guilt. Guilt for not feeling anything at all.

             “You saved me,” you murmur, scratching one of the dogs behind its ears. The other waits patiently, scooting closer to you in an effort to remind you his ears need attention too. Asa says nothing, and when you glance up, he’s watching you, leaning against the sink, bloody rag in hand.

             “I’m tired,” you say dully, tears welling up in your eyes. Asa sets the rag on the counter, turning and quickly striding from the room. The door closes with a quiet click behind him.

*

             When he returns, you’re asleep against the wall, two warm dogs piled in your lap. Quietly, Asa seats himself at the desk, steepling his fingers and leaning back in the chair to watch the steady rise and fall of your bloody chest.

             Things are progressing as they should. The death of the Mantis had been unfortunate, but necessary. He feels a tinge of regret; he’d been proud of how that one had turned out, but the important thing is you had reacted as you should. You’re reliant on him now, indebted, maybe even thankful.

             Asa frowns, stroking his bottom lip with a thumb. Still, you puzzle him. Drugged, you’d told him to kiss you. He wonders at your motives, wonders why you would say such a thing. He can see the hate in your two-toned eyes when he looks at you.

             The Collector turns in his chair, gaze falling on the contraption on the other side of the room. Delicate twin blades, designed to carve and strip flesh on two different areas of the body, one side a perfect mirror to the other. He’d been preparing it in your new room last night when he’d tied you up so beautifully. He would have used it on you, given you a lovely set of mismatched wings to complement your mismatched eyes.

             That is what the Rohypnol had been for, of course. He didn’t want you squirming, ruining the finicky design. He didn’t need to drug you to tie you up. You, who are so perfectly submissive when you’re awake.

             So perfect, and so infuriating. He’d second guessed himself. You had made him hesitate, a dangerous thing to do in this profession. Every move must be purposeful, every step controlled, but you’d made him weak.

             He should kill you. He can’t afford to be weak, not now, not when everything goes so smoothly. Just slit your throat and be done with it.

             Asa reaches for the knife in his pocket. A dog whines and you stir, head tipping in the opposite direction. Your eyes remain closed.

             Unbidden, the memory of when he first saw you floats to the forefront of his mind. You’d been hurrying to class, half-zipped backpack bouncing against your back as you jogged. Asa had noticed your hair first; how angelic you’d looked framed by the early morning sun pouring through the leaves.

             You’d stopped abruptly, bending low to examine something on the sidewalk. You extended your fingers, palm up, urging the caterpillar onto your hand before gently cradling it to your chest and hurrying to place it safely in a nearby tree. It was a curious thing to do when you were already late for class.

             Asa had followed you, took note of what class you were attending, then searched for you on a coworker’s computer. Your student ID picture had stunned him for a moment. Heterochromia, one brown eye, one green. Immediately, he’d known you needed wings, moth wings to match the future wings of the caterpillar you’d saved.

             But, once he’d gotten his hands on you, discovered how maddeningly irresistible you were…. Asa grits his teeth. He is not comfortable with being this unsure.

             He sits back in the chair again. Stay the course. He’s put too much time and work into you to kill you now. He just needs one more thing from you before he can move you.

 @little-lily-w @quiveringdeer

[tothemeadow]

HIIIII

I seen ur previous giyuu stuff 👀 and I was wondering if u could write a giyuu smut with a fem reader maybe giyuu misses his s/o so much it dont matter who top, but like ty so much if u do this but feel free to ignore 💃🕺

I will reveal myself later 😳

I decided to put these two together because why the fuck not.

‘you’re all i’ve got tonight’ / Tomioka G. x Reader

warnings: NSFW, oral sex, somnophilia (maybe?)

words: 1,479

(a/n): eyo I wrote 3 smuts today so I’m just gonna- 🏃‍♀️

-

All he wants is you.

It’s been too long – a month too long. Normally, Giyuu wouldn’t mind being away from home for such a long period of time, but ever since you entered his life, he can barely stand being away from you. It was rough saying goodbye after his crow told him he had to leave, to travel so away from you.

Since the day of his departure, Giyuu’s being craving to hold you in his arms, to whisper sweet nothings in your ears. Once upon a time in his life, Giyuu had been used to loneliness, to its dark grasp and icy clutches. He never wants to feel that way in his life ever again, but, as is his luck, that’s the exact situation he found himself in.

He thinks that it’s this reason why he’s so eager to find you when he finally arrives home. No, it’s not desperation. It’s definitely not horniness, either. Giyuu was never one to have a high sex drive – or at least he thought so. During his long-term mission, he’s learned a lot of things about himself.

He finds you fast asleep in the bed the two of you shared; with the funds he makes as a Pillar, he surprised you by buying some fancy Western style bed to use instead of the usual futon. His heart swells in his chest at the sight of you beneath the covers, the slight rising and falling of your chest. On their own accord, his feet carry him over to the bed. He slides in underneath the covers without further thought, not even bothering to remove his multicolored haori.

He shudders at the warmth emitting from your body, the natural scent of your skin. He involuntarily groans, burying his face in your neck. Placing open-mouthed kisses to flesh, his breath hitches in his throat when you stir, but you don’t wake up. He really should put an end to this sort of behavior, but he’s missed you so bad. His impatience grows as he shifts on top of you, slithering his way down your body with his mouth and hands. A simple tug at your yukata has the material falling loose at your sides, revealing smooth skin and perky breasts.

Giyuu bites his lip at the sight of your luscious, naked body; he urgently presses kisses to the exposed flesh, following the invisible line from your sternum down the swell of your stomach and stopping at your pubic bone. His pupils are blown wide from both the dark and his insatiable lust. Oh, gods, he needs you now.

It all starts with small, heated kisses against your inner thigh. You stir in your sleep once more, but you have yet to wake up. No matter – Giyuu knows the perfect way to greet you. His tongue sweeps over the crevice of your thigh, just barely grazing the side of your most intimate part, but he can’t find it in him to rush. While he is desperate your touch, he wants to draw this out, to savor every single second of it. Slowly, ever so slowly, he runs over your slit with the flat of his tongue.

Your body twitches beneath him, a soft sigh falling from your parted lips. His ears perk up at the sound. It’s been an entire month since he last heard your beautiful voice and those delicious little noises you make. So he does it again and again, tongue flicking over your slit as he slowly pushes it in. The sigh you release is louder this time, your fingers twitching at your sides.

“Giyuu…” you murmur.

Giyuu’s cock twitches in his pants. You’re dreaming of him. Knowing that you’re having a wet dream about him kicks him into a higher gear; shoving his tongue fully inside of you, he clutches onto your supple thighs as he fucks you with his tongue.

The noises dropping from your lips are nothing short of sinful – ragged gasps, high-pitched pants, whimpers of his name. Giyuu’s fingers join his tongue, the tips seeking out that spongy spot that makes you lose your damn mind. Happiness bubbles in Giyuu’s chest as you suddenly grip onto his hair.

“G-Giyuu?” you stutter, your voice heavy with sleep. You moan when he hums into your pussy.

“I’m home, baby,” Giyuu husks. His voice is so deep and raspy, the arousal lining his tone clear as day. He quickly kisses your thigh. “Gods, I missed you so much.”

Your eyes flutter as his fingers continue to pump in and out of you, the digits curling deliciously against your ridged walls. “I… I missed you too,” you murmur. Scrambling onto your elbows, you urge the blanket away, fully revealing Giyuu between your legs. You immediately moan at the sight; even through the dark, you can make out the fucked-out expression on Giyuu’s face, the slick from your pussy clinging to his mouth and chin.

“Shit,” Giyuu mutters.

You’re about to ask him what he means, but then he’s shooting upwards, his mouth seeking out yours. You sigh as he slips his tongue into your mouth, the taste of your essence heavy on his tongue. His fingers continue with their urgent pace, his thumb joining in and playing with your clit.

“You feel so good, baby,” Giyuu purrs against your lips. You gasp as he drops his hips against yours, the hard line of his cock pressing against the material of his hakama. The head of his cock drags against your slit, your slick wetting the front of his pants even further. “I missed this too much,” he admits with a grunt.

His breathy voice makes your blood boil. A heavy knot forms in the base of your stomach, deliciously hot and irresistible. Rugged pants fill your ears as Giyuu makes haste of removing his clothing; a moment passes before you join him, your hands undoing the buttons of his uniform jacket before your sliding it down his shoulders. A hiccup breaks free from your throat as you feel his bare skin with your palms, the jagged flesh of his scars.

Silently, Giyuu takes a hand in one of his and guides it to his crotch. He chokes on a pleasure filled sigh as you wrap your fingers around him, the weight of his cock feeling heavenly in your hand. You furiously pump his cock as his fingers quicken up their pace. Wet sounds fill the room, mix with your heavy groans and pleading words.

Giyuu kisses you once more as he places the head of his cock against your slit, a throaty groan bubbling from the depths of his chest as he pushes himself into you. With a weak cry of his name, you cling to his shoulders, your velvety walls rippling around him. The pace he sets is slow, but he’s thrusting into you so deep that you’re certain he’s hitting your cervix. He fucks into you thoroughly, the tight heat of your cunt almost too much to take.

“You feel so much better than I remember,” Giyuu says as he presses his forehead to yours. You jolt when he slips a thumb over one of your nipples. “You know how hard it’s been being so far away from you?” he grunts. “I longed to see your face every single day.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “It was hard for me, too,” you tell him. “I can’t stand waking up without you by my side.”

A curse graces your ears as your walls tighten around his cock. “Next time, you’re coming with me.”

A pleased smile forms on your face as you rock your hips back against him. “That better be a promise. Fuck me, baby,” you whisper.

Coming to a complete stop, you feel Giyuu shift on the bed before he’s snapping his cock back into you with a solid thrust; your back arches as you cry out, your walls tightening impossibly around him.

“I’m not going to last long if you keep squeezing like that,” Giyuu grits.

He fucks into you hard and fast; his desperation bleeds from his pores, powers the strength in his movements. He kisses you passionately, his hand grabbing onto your jaw and tilting your head in a way that makes the kiss deeper than it was before. You moan into his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulder blades and raking down his skin, leaving angry red trails in their wake.

“Gods, I could fuck you forever,” he husks.

“Then do it,” you urge. “Show me how much you missed me.”

You cry out as his fingers frantically play with your clit, flicking at the sensitive bud and pinching it. You can’t get over just how good he feels, his cockhead punching into your most sensitive areas with each stroke of his hips.

“Oh, I will, baby. I’ve got all night.”

[sevenincubistolemyheart]

Of Leeches and Secrets

Au: Demon

Tag list: @xsunnyhoseokx @amiraclerenee @illneverrecover​

Rating: M

Potential Triggers: Kinks in this fic include marking, possession, aphrodisiac use(supernatural power), and overstimulation. There’s also non-explicit mentions of torture. 

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Supernatural Smut, Brief Angst, Fluff

Length: 3.2k+

A/N: Happy Valentines Day @illneverrecover​!! I really hope you enjoy this bby! I struggled with including a certain someone but I hope you liked how I ended up including him and that his personality was okay!! Much love~ -Sheridan

All Taehyung had wanted to do was keep his race a secret from you. You'd been perfectly content with your normal, happy, Human boyfriend. But no- that bratty bloodsucker had ruined it all with his big mouth. 

He'd had to teleport home in a panic as he felt a rush of fear assault him from your end of the bond. The Marks he littered all over your body served 2 purposes- showing his ownership to the Humans yes but also to the world you had no idea of- race after race of supernaturals. 

He always ensured his scent was all over you too- clearly, it still hadn't been enough if the Vampire hovering over your small looking form on the couch wasn't enough proof. 

He snarled and threw Baekhyun harshly into the wall by his collar and knelt down to look into your eyes, taking in your fearful, shock filled gaze. 

He reached out to comfort you and his face and heart both fell as he saw you recoil.

Pain flashed across his face before a hiss of fury escaped him as he whirled to face Baekhyun who was effortlessly dusting himself off, a small smirk adorning his lips. 

"You really shouldn't break your own apartment you know. The walls are thin as it is."

"What the fuck are you doing here? You know better than to touch-"

He cut himself off, knowing his continuation of 'what belongs to me' wouldn't sit well with the Human he adored so much. 

“-random people you don’t know!! Our issue has nothing to do with her!”

Baekhyun hummed, eyes wide and innocent as he shrugged. 

"I haven't touched her once. Just told her a few things. She deserved to know the truth. I mean you have been keeping an awful lot of secrets from her. I couldn't help but want to dispel the poor things ignorance. What if a mean, scary Vampire wanted to suck her dry~?"

He flashed his fangs and let the true red of his eyes appear for a moment in a playful gesture. 

"She should be reassured having an even scarier demon on her side, don'tcha think?"

Taehyung let his words sink in and soon had to take a deep breath to stop his furious shaking as he turned his attention to you- ignoring Baekhyun for the moment. Bastard always knew how to push his buttons and he clearly wanted him to snap so he'd scare you more. 

"...Are you okay baby?"

His voice was nothing but gentle as he knelt down and looked up into your eyes. 

You finally spoke, eyes oddly resolute compared to the blank pools they were moments ago. 

"I'm fine. Just tell me the truth. Are you really a Fallen Angel like Baek said?"

The nickname you used for the Vampire made him bristle but he nodded. 

"Mm. I know this must come as a shock but-"

You shook your head and laughed weakly as you stood up to pace. 

"Actually it just makes me feel like I'm finally not crazy. You disappeared every night and now there's a good reason. Do you…"

You bit your lip, looking hesitant for the first time. 

"Do you actually torture people?"

He looked to the side knowing his answer wasn't one most Humans would like. 

 “I...Yeah. They're truly vile people but it’s my job. Being here on Earth doesn’t change that. I could switch to espionage on the Angels if that would make you feel more comfortable-”

Perhaps not nearly as fun as his current position but what could he say? He’d fallen for you and he was willing to sacrifice for that.

You bit your lip, a nervous tic he’d noticed you did when under stress and hesitantly met his gaze. 

“Do you enjoy it?” 

“Yes. Very much.” 

He answered without hesitation. 

Your eyes lowered once more and you fiddled with your thumbs as your voice grew quieter. 

“Would...you want to do that to me if I ever went to Hell?”

He couldn’t stop the burst of laughter that escaped his lips if he tried, trying to get it under control as your head snapped up in surprise. 

“Ahaha!! Oh, sweetheart, you are not going to Hell.”

You frowned slightly, voice growing stronger. 

“That’s not what I asked Taehyung. Do you want to hurt me? To torment me like you do those people? Has this all been a game to you!?!” 

Your voice rose and the glassiness of your eyes made his laughter cut off sharply as he gently cradled your cheek in his large palm. 

“Oh, baby no. I...I may be a sadist, yes but I would never want to hurt you. You showed me that humanity wasn’t such a vile cesspool beyond saving. You made my fall for being curious worth it. “ 

His face held a serious expression so unlike him that you let out a sigh of relief as you nuzzled your cheek into his hand.

“...And what about the other boys? And Baekhyun's group? Are you all demons?”

Baekhyun snorted as he slung himself on the couch on the opposite side to you carelessly. 

“Don’t lump me in with those weak fear generators. It’s just Kai and me who’re Vamps. The rest are Humans. We both figured it’d be fun to spend the next while influencing the world through our music.” 

He shrugged, sounding bored as he yawned. 

Taehyung scoffed, as a ghost of a smirk pulled at his lips. 

“At least I’m more than a common mosquito. As for the other boys- we’re actually all different races. It’s part of the reason we’re as successful as we are. Between Jimin as an Incubus, Yoongs as a Siren and Hobi as an Angel with memory manipulation- there’s plenty of supernatural appeal pulling Humes to us that we have no control over.” 

Seeing your wide wonder-filled eyes he chuckled under his breath and opted against keeping you in suspense like he could’ve. 

“Jungkook is a Shifter- he can take on any of our appearances and also take on one of our abilities in addition to his own. He can mimic our voices easily too. Namjoon is a Bloodsucker like this one-” He raised his chin at Baekhyun who rolled his eyes. “But he’s much more bearable. Jin is a Human but a gifted time traveler so he’s wiser than any of us would typically care to admit. That’s everyone.” 

You let out a little laugh of disbelief at both of their answers. 

“That’s...damn. Kai too?” 

You asked Baekhyun who smirked. 

“...Vamps can read thoughts just so you know love.” 

He mentioned offhandedly, relishing as you gasped and were quick to look away. Your cheeks turned red from the blood rushing to them as you blushed madly and he took in your scent with great pleasure. 

Taehyung’s eyes darkened as he took in the exchange but he said nothing, merely settling for looking between the two of you.

“But yes, Kai too. There’s a reason you’ve never been left alone with him and why Tae is so careful about being near whenever we’re at an event with you. He can be a bit...unstable with those with blood as sweet as yours appears to be.”

Taehyung had had enough of being left out. 

“Isn’t it about time you left? Got some mice to suck dry?”

He managed to get out through gritted teeth. 

Baekhyun only beamed.

“I don’t think I want to~. And I’d say your pretty little thing doesn’t want me to either, if her thoughts concerning my appearance are anything to go by.” 

His eyes darkened as he suddenly was much closer than before; his sudden lunge at you leading to him looming over you. He turned your face to him with two fingers as he made you meet his gaze, giving a lustful snarl that went right to your core, making you shiver. 

“Every thought you had when you saw us perform, when you met me the first time-” His smirk was one of a shark, sharp fangs only drawing the comparison closer as he clearly smelled blood in the water. 

“Especially that time when I made eye contact with you…”

Your eyes widened as you immediately recalled what he was talking about. He’d made eye contact with you while at soundcheck during one of their sexier routines and while you couldn’t remember your exact thoughts...they sure weren’t decent with how wet you’d been.

“If you still want I’d be glad to fuck an irresistible girl like you till you see stars and are so thoroughly fucked out you don’t know whether to beg for it to stop or for more.”

You barely mustered the strength to shake your head and only came back to yourself when Taehyung roughly pulled the Vampire off you with a hiss between teeth that equal parts frightened you and turned you on. There was a dark undercurrent to his voice you’d never heard before and-fuck what was wrong with you? It felt like you were drunk all of a sudden. 

You could barely focus on anything but you’re growing need to be filled and while sure; you had your hormone jumps and often had horny spells they were never this intense. 

“Baby? What did that bastard-” 

Taehyung loomed over you with worry in his gaze but you were too focused on how pretty his lips looked and roughly pulled his lips to yours with the hands around his neck, cutting him off abruptly. 

You made out for a few moments but Taehyung quickly put together that something wasn’t right. He was typically the one leading you- you’d never been so absolutely ravenous for him before. He forced himself back with difficulty, caressing your midsection and neck to offer you a sensation to focus on as he turned his attention to Baekhyun who was pouting and looked positively annoyed. 

“What the Hell did you do to her?”

Baekhyun shrugged. 

“I just turned up my aphrodisiac meter some to entice her is all. I didn’t expect it to backfire so much.”

His eyes still very much held his want for you, if the bulge in his pants was anything to go by anyway...and that gave Taehyung an idea. 

Even Baekhyun couldn’t hold back his shudder at the dark smirk and sadistic gleam in his eyes.

"...You think playing around with my girlfriend’s pleasure is okay hm? You poor little leech~ She'll never be swayed to you when she has someone who can actually make her feel pleasure instead of your artificial bullshit. Though I suppose  I'll give you the honor of a front-row seat so your efforts don't go to waste."

Taehyung’s voice was low and almost gentle but rich with cruel happiness that made Baekhyun puff his chest and stand up straight in an attempt to appear more intimidating.

"It's not artificial! I'm sure the slick currently pooling underneath her is proof of that."

He sniped, only to flinch as Taehyung lunged at him and...tapped him? 

He hesitantly peeked one eye open and saw they were now in the Master bedroom. Ugh. Teleportation. He tried to move but frowned as he realized he couldn't move an inch. 

A quick glance at Taehyung had his eyes widening as he hissed under his breath.  

"...Kanima venom."

Taehyung smiled smugly- taking off the glove he'd used to smear the gel-like venom onto his intruders' bare skin carefully and tossed it in the trash. 

"Your ability to speak should be going next. Try and be a good boy and enjoy the show hm? Maybe they'll teach you a lesson about spilling secrets that aren't yours."

He turned his attention to you who was pouting at him and already halfway through taking off your top only for the buttons of your top to have gotten stuck in your hair. 

He chuckled fondly, eyes softening as he gently helped you to untangle yourself. 

"Silly girl; didn't I tell you to wait for me? Now I'm going to have to punish you. I know you're eager but you know better than to disobey your Sir."

The whimper that fell from your lips may have been caused by the aphrodisiac but truthfully you knew it was all his doing. Taehyung always knew how best to make you unravel. 

"B-But Tae-" 

Your whine made him growl; that demonic undercurrent from before making you arch in need but he still wouldn't touch your core, instead letting his fingers play with the button on your jeans- already undone. 

"No buts baby. I'm gonna make you cum so many times you'll wish you were in Hell with me."

Your breath hitched and the smirk that bloomed across his lips made you shiver. 

"Ahhhaha~ I see my hypothesis was right. You like that your boyfriend is a demon don't you? My precious little slut~"

You blushed and tried to deny his claims. 

"I-no that's not it! I just…" 

You squirmed clearly embarrassed and he chuckled darkly before leaving a trail of hot kisses up your neck until he reached your ear where he bit down. 

The hiss of pain you let out caused him to moan before he licked at the red area causing a sharp spike of pleasure to make you mewl.

"Naughty girl~ thinking you can lie to your boyfriend who can read like you a book...and hear your heartbeat."

The tickle of his breath on your ear and his fingers brushing ever so gently over your covered core made you finally cave as you nodded. 

"Okay okay fine!! You win! I find it really hot and I want you to make me beg!" .

You admitted in a rush. 

A muffled moan made your attention turn to the new fixture you'd completely forgotten about. 

Baekhyun looked wrecked. He was panting; clearly desperate for relief if the large bulge set to burst out of his pants was any question, eyes glassy with need. 

When you locked eyes with him you found yourself being drawn in, unable to look away. Maybe you could help him, get fucked by both boys at once-

You found your face being sharply turned back to Taehyung as well as your senses. 

"Don't make me blindfold you Baek. I want you to savor every second of her pleasure as I bring her to the peak mercilessly."

He spoke the words to Baekhyun but his eyes never left your own and you found yourself immediately complying as Taehyung ordered you.  

"On your back baby, knees apart."

You did as instructed and he helped you remove your jeans leaving you in nothing but your underwear and bra. Perhaps you might've been insecure with having Baekhyun watching you like this as well if you weren't so focused on Taehyung and his hands as they roamed from your neck down to your breasts as he lightly flicked his thumbs over the fabric, smirking as you keened and shivered, jolting a little as his fingers brushed across your nipples. 

"Ahh I almost forgot your little aphrodisiac trick increases sensitivity too. Makes the blood pump faster doesn't it…?"

He questioned innocently, knowing he wouldn't receive a response. 

"And unfortunately for you-"

He nuzzled your mound and relished your needy moan.

"That enhanced sensitivity is only gonna get more and more intense the more times I make you cum for me."

The gentle touches and playful teasing were quickly growing to be too much for you with how worked up you were. 

"B-Baby please! I'm sorry okay I'll never even think about Baekhyun or any other man but you again you know I only have eyes for you-!!"  

Taehyung's eyes darkened at the sound of your begging and you squealed as he shut you up by simply pulling your underwear down and off you too quickly for you to see before attacking your core like a man possessed. 

His tongue relentlessly lapped over your clit while also detouring to your lips now and again to keep you on the edge. 

"That's right. You belong to me. No-one else. Least of all that vile brat needing a tan." 

Even the feeling of his breath made you pant as you arched up- needing to feel his lips against you.  Ugh, you were so close!!

"Something wrong babygirl?" 

He taunted with a smirk, now skirting ever so slowly around your clit with his tongue. 

Tears of pleasure were starting to dot your vision and you felt your thighs trembling; a telltale sign of your impending orgasm.

"P-Please. Make me cum Tae. Please. I...nngh…can't bear it-!" 

You mumbled weakly. 

And then you were gasping as he easily brought you over the edge- attacking your clit viciously as his tongue lashed mercilessly over the over-sensitized bud. As your 2nd orgasm of many approached you clenched around nothing at the demonic hiss that left his lips. 

"Oh I'll make you cum alright. I thought you'd never ask."

Needless to say your night was filled with many more orgasms. Whether from his gifted tongue, his merciless fingers or his dick. And you were absolutely littered in marks by the end of the night. At one point he'd even broken the skin just to add an extra layer of torment to his little captive. You'd talked before about overstimulation but by the time he was done you were so tired he had to clean you up and tuck you into bed. 

As you slept soundly he smiled knowingly at Baekhyun, the poor Vampire having cum multiple times himself from the display. He leisurely made his way over to him, lifting the broken boys' hopes of being given the antidote to the venom. 

Instead, Taehyung pet his hair softly for a few moments with a gentle, kind smile on his face. Thankfully, the venom was slowly beginning to finally wear off on its own so he was barely able to speak. 

"Taehyung? What are you-hnn!" 

He yipped like a kicked puppy before moaning as Taehyung cupped his oversensitive crotch, shivering in fear as Taehyung's expression didn't change once even though his eyes were dead and completely devoid of emotion. 

"...Try and come near my girl again. Ever try to manipulate her like that again- and this will be child's play compared to what the succubi and incubi I throw you to will do to you. For a year. Got it?"

His voice was pure demon now, so growled and low the Vampire barely understood it as he rushed to voice his affirmation. 

"Y-Yes! Okay okay please just-"

The world tilted and he closed his eyes, only to find himself back at his apartment with the other boys. 

"The venom will wear off naturally. Pray it's Kai that finds you and that he's not in a mood."

Was all Taehyung called over his shoulder with a smirk before he disappeared, ignoring the vocalists call to let him free.

Taehyung sighed in relief as he snuggled into bed with you, taking off his jeans and placing the antidote in his drawer before crawling beside you and enveloping you in his warm arms. You cuddled into him as you always did- a small hum of contentment leaving your lips and making his eyes soften as he pecked the top of your head. 

Yeah. Maybe you finding out wasn't so bad after all. 

[fire-the-headcanons]

Follow the Beacon Raven—The Strong Live

[Link to Masterpost]

[TW: graphic depictions of violence, blood, abuse, underage drinking, medical trauma, drug use, mortal terror. It's less intense than the last one but there's still a TLDR at the end]

“Drink,” Vanta spat, almost throwing the wineskin at her—it nearly fell through Raven’s shaking hands, but she managed to open it.

The rest of the tribe surrounded them, passing around whiskey and moonshine to drown their fear and anger and bloodlust, mask their scent from the Grimm. Bandits had learned how to make sure the monsters drawn in by a raid didn’t follow them out again a long time ago.

Raven couldn’t afford that kind of calm. One of her anchors was dead, another dying, and the last looked angry enough to kill her. She pretended to take a large gulp of the liquor before passing it back, watching silent and wary as Vanta took her turn.

Qrow’s connection itched. He was badly hurt, but it hadn’t snapped yet—she knew how that would feel now. He’d never make it to camp on his own in that state, she had to get Vanta too drunk to stop her from helping him.

“I warned him,” Vanta hissed, handing the skin to her again. “I told him we should have wrung the little wretch’s neck if he didn’t learn to turn it off. We should have been free of him years ago!” Raven said nothing and feigned another drink, ready to run if she turned on her too.

“Now look at us.” Vanta twisted with a glare and Raven’s heart jumped into her throat—but she was only offering the liquor back again. “You’re better off without him.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Loud enough to hear, quiet enough to ignore.

By the time they reached camp, the wineskin was empty and Vanta was struggling to stay upright. Smoke still poured into the sky from the distant town, possibly the remains of Grimm slain by the survivors but more likely from the fires of the battle.

The link almost burned as they staggered through the gate and she had to grit her teeth against the near irresistible pull. He didn’t have much time. Finally, finally, they made it to the tent and Raven dumped the semi-conscious Vanta on her bedroll.

Outside, the revelry had begun, sending her dodging behind tents and hugging the makeshift wall to avoid the others. She only strayed from the fringes to grab another skin of moonshine and a vial of poppy. Everything reeked of blood and smoke and booze, and in the center of camp a half-dozen people were singing badly.

The tent she shared with Qrow did nothing to block out the sound but it still felt safer than anywhere else. Their connection seared now, like fire licking at the rear of her mind—when she finally tugged on the thread, the relief was just as intense. The portal spun into existence and she leapt through back into the burning village.

Qrow lay in the mud at her feet, wheezing with his eyes half-closed. A Beowolf licked the blood from his shoulder, ignoring his weak attempts to shove it away.

Raven sprang forward, drawing her sword and swinging through the beast’s neck in a single motion and turning it to smoke that bit at her face. Qrow slumped, his arm splashing into the mud.

“Can you move?” she demanded.

It took a second for him to focus on her face and when he spoke it came out as a weak rasp, gravelly and cracking. “She’ll kill you too.”

“If you’re strong enough to get back to camp, you’re strong enough to live.” They didn’t have time for him to get himself together, keeping the portal open was much harder when she and her anchor were on the same side. She grabbed him under the arms and pulled—Qrow moaned in pain but didn’t speak again. Probably lacked the strength.

“Stay quiet,” she ordered, letting the portal close behind them as she dragged him onto his bedroll. It had taken more of her aura than she’d hoped.

She tipped the poppy solution down his throat, but they didn’t have time for it to work—he was losing too much blood. She shoved a corner of his blanket into his mouth and grabbed the moonshine.

He screamed as she cleaned his wounds, but with nothing to power his Semblance luck was with her and nobody heard over the makeshift gag and the bad singing. Someone, probably Sanguin, had taken a knife to his shoulder, leaving a half-dozen deep gashes that needed stitching.

Luckily again, Qrow passed out after about a minute and she could work without him thrashing.

By the time she had finished with the third cut it was hard to hold her hands steady. There should have been some sign of his aura returning by now, but his injuries stayed dark and empty.

If he died Vanta would still be furious, and she’d have nothing to show for it. She couldn’t return his body to the village, or even get it out of camp without being seen. Damn it, she needed him. He was always the only anchor she could control.

At last she saw it—a tiny ember, like a single spark from a fire but the color of blood, blinked into existence over his heart. She paused in her work as it traced its way over his skin, drifting toward the nearest cut before sinking into it.

Putting him back together took hours. She had to steal more bandages twice, and she wasn’t sure enough of the splint she made for his arm. The sparks grew more frequent, but still formed alarmingly slowly and his aura was being consumed by his injuries as quickly as his soul produced it. With so much damage, it would probably be weeks before he’d be able to build a reserve. 

If he survived at all. He still hadn’t regained consciousness.

The rest of the camp had fallen into a drunken stupor forever ago, but eventually she’d done all she could and collapsed onto her own bedroll. Vanta would find them in the morning, and hopefully she wouldn‘t kill them both.

She bit down on her tongue, trying to hold back exhausted, frustrated tears. Why? She just couldn’t understand. Qrow should have become the tribe’s leader, not Vanta, should have demanded that everyone else fall in line behind him the moment Bones fell. Couldn’t he see how afraid they were of him, of his Semblance?

Raven would give anything for that kind of power—her own did nothing but put her at the mercy of others.

Still, she supposed she should be grateful for her brother’s appalling weakness. If he ever decided to take his rightful place in the tribe, she’d be as likely to die as anyone else when he bent them to his will.

                                                      *          *          *

   “What did you do?!“

Raven jolted awake, seizing the handle of the knife under her mat.

“You brought that traitor back here?“ Vanta’s hand seized the back of her head, smashing her face down onto her arm and holding it there, bending her nose painfully.

“No, I didn’t!”

“Well, you certainly took care of him,” she spat, shoving her down harder before letting go.

Raven sat up while she had the chance, keeping the knife under the blanket. Vanta would still have extra aura from draining those Huntsmen, and her own reserves still felt drained.

It was hard to meet her eye—Vanta had never been this angry at her. Raven fought to keep her voice steady. “The strong live, the weak die. He lived, so he’s strong.”

It was the tribe’s custom. If an injured bandit made it back from a raid, they’d proven their strength. Even if they needed help with the bandages. Vanta may lead the tribe now, but if she threw away the old traditions she wouldn’t lead for long.

Of course, she might just kill them both and blame Qrow.

Vanta seized her neck, aura crackling around her hand, and Raven almost slashed at her face on reflex. “Then you’d better hope you’re the next one he kills, because if you aren’t, I’ll feed you to the Grimm myself.” She shoved her back to the ground before letting go of her throat and storming from their tent.

Raven slowly released the knife, forcing herself to breathe. They should probably kill Vanta sooner rather than later.

      [Vanta's name comes from the color Vantablack, which is worth looking up if you've never heard of it because the Semple/Kapoor feud is nothing if not entertaining. Also, black absorbs all color wavelengths, which is how I came up with her Semblance.]

[TLDR: Raven gets Vanta drunk, and once she's passed out, opens a portal to Qrow. She kills the Beowolf bothering him and takes him back through the portal to camp before taking care of his injuries as much as she can. When his aura doesn't seem to be returning at all, she panics because he might not live, but after a while she starts to see sparks in his injuries. She needs him alive because Vanta is the only other person she can portal to now that Bones is dead, and Vanta's abusive and scary.

The next morning Vanta is not pleased to see Qrow alive, but Raven reminds her of the tribe's tradition: if an injured bandit can make it back to camp they're entitled to medical attention. Vanta can't throw out tradition without weakening her control over the tribe, so she doesn't kill Qrow outright but scares Raven and leaves. Raven decides they probably have to kill her soon in order to stay alive.]

Next Chapter: Summer—Summertime

[alexandralyman]

Fic Update: Between Heaven and Hell 

Summary: A Hook/Emma angel/demon AU. They hide in plain sight, the servants of heaven and hell. The angels and the demons, who can save your soul or damn it. They stand on opposite sides, they are the bringers of light and the agents of darkness, they are enemies in an eternal war, but what happens when an angel and a demon are inexplicably drawn to each other?

Read this chapter on AO3 here or on ff.net here

                                        Part Twenty-Three

On any other evening the Jolly Roger would be in full swing by now, the lights turned down low and the music turned up, a sensual beat that made the blood rise and the pulse quicken. The liquor would be flowing in intoxicating rivers enough to drown a man and the dancers would be gyrating, all lithe, bare limbs and come-hither looks. It was a decadent playground of the rich and beautiful all watched over from above by a lone demon who was the sole captain of the ship, steering them on their pleasure cruise straight down to Hell while they partied on in blissful ignorance, unaware and heedless of the danger that lurked just below every polished surface.

They never saw what was truly coming until it was too late.

But tonight the club was virtually unrecognizable. All of the tables and chairs where the vastly overpaid bankers and stockbrokers sat and drank vastly overpriced cocktails with women young enough to be their daughters and granddaughters had been removed, leaving a large, empty space in the middle of the floor and revealing the symbol that was etched into the wood, normally concealed by the furniture. Not that anyone would have noticed it anyway, mortals were, for the most part, utterly blind to what was right in front of their own damn noses. There was no overlooking it now, the carved lines were stark under the overhead lights, turned up to full brightness and revealing everything that normally lay hidden for the first time, as harsh as the midday sun in the middle of the desert.

Killian stood with his arms folded across his chest and surveyed the room for a moment with a critical eye before giving a tiny nod. It wasn't ideal, but it would do. The Jolly Roger was much more than just a high-end strip club, it was the central hub of his operation in the city, the root from which everything else had grown. Illegal backroom casinos and sports betting, corrupt cops who answered to him and not the mayor's favourite pet, the chief of police, industrial espionage and blackmail, even a bit of his old, lucrative sideline, smuggling, this time in the form of knockoff sneakers and fake designer handbags that were sold out of the backs of nail shops and tattoo parlours. Captain Hook was long gone, just another forgotten legend in a dusty book, but Killian Jones was still that ruthless, cutthroat pirate at heart underneath his elegant, bespoke suits and perfectly pressed shirts.

A pirate with a secret treasure that must be kept hidden and protected at all costs.

His club served a dual purpose, it was a business, and a highly profitable one at that, he could have lived like a king on the revenue from it alone and not wanted for anything (except the one thing he wanted more than everything else, the one thing no amount of money would buy or he would have already spent every last cent of it to obtain his heart's desire and done so gladly) but it was also a literal den of sin, where countless men and women had all given in to temptation and damned their immortal souls forever under his corrupting influence. Lust, greed, wrath, gluttony, pride, they had all left their mark behind just as he marked the ones who fell with his demonic brand and the sins permeated everything around him as if the building itself had been soaked in gasoline, ready to alight with just a single spark. His power was strongest at the Jolly Roger, where the deep leather banquettes served as the pews facing the altar of the stage, the raised DJ booth housed the choir, and an unholy Communion of body and blood was served nightly in the nubile flesh of the dancers and the liquor poured from behind the bar to those who came to worship in his name instead of His. Killian could feel it under his skin, moving through his veins quicker than any drug with a burn that was a dark, addictive ecstasy. He cracked his neck, the pop and hiss echoing loud in the silent room while pleasure and pain coiled and twisted along every nerve, making the cords stand out as he drank deep from the unseen chalice and drew on the reserve of wickedness and vice. The one thing he'd always had was time, centuries to carefully plot and plan, but the ticking clock was now his enemy and he needed to be at full strength as fast as possible before facing him.

Rumpelstiltskin

Killian hadn't told Emma the full truth, that he'd tangled with the Dark One more than once in the past and long after their encounter in Paris. The animosity between them ran deep, and no one could hold a grudge longer than a demon, immortal and immoral as they were. Years had passed, decades, but it was no matter. They would face each other again, and this time only one of them would walk away, Killian was certain of that.

He still had his old iron knife, the same one that had spilled the cackling succubus Zelena's infernal blood onto the Parisian cobblestones when she'd learned his secret and dared to threaten his angel. Iron could both repel and harm demons, hence the old custom of nailing an iron horseshoe over a doorway. It wasn't originally done for luck, it was to prevent malevolent creatures from entering the house and gaining a foothold among the souls. Freshly sharpened, the blade was pitch-black without a speck of tarnish and gleamed like a pool of oil. A few other supplies were ready and waiting, both esoteric and humble in nature, but he didn't need much. Killian couldn't summon Rumpelstiltskin directly himself, their master could as he could with all demons, but he wasn't going to bring the Fallen One into this squabble to play mediator. If anyone would recognize the faintest whiff of the divine about him, it would be Lucifer, born of Heaven before he was bound to Hell. He needed a sinner to do the summoning for him and for that he had Jacqueline, the thieving bartender who was about to learn exactly what the "perform other duties as needed" clause in her employment contract really meant. The summoning itself would be done at the Jolly Roger, his own private house of worship to the many vices of man. Emma would remain safely removed from the whole event, and once Rumpelstiltskin was dealt with there would be nothing keeping them apart and Killian could resume his seduction, finish what had begun the night he'd first caught a glimpse of that single light in the midst of the darkness.

The harsh, artificial light that filled his club now was a miracle of science but it was nothing compared to that golden glow, mesmerizing enough to tempt even one who knew better than to fall for something shiny to get closer and try to get a better look.

Funny that. He was the corruptor, the one who offered the poisoned apple, so sweet and juicy and irresistible, and yet she had drawn him in first and before he could stop himself he was turning his back on the delights of a rampaging army let loose like a swarm of locusts to destroy and defile everything in their path and heading away from the delectable feast instead with an angel and a group of frightened nuns all following behind that reminded him later of a regal, unruffled swan leading a clutch of confused, orphaned ducklings. Their innocence grated on him during the whole of the brief journey, pure souls that were too naive, too trusting. So trusting that they had all placed their faith in him to see them to safety, even as they visibly shied away from what they glimpsed behind his eyes.

Except her.

His phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. The one he'd thrown against the wall in a rage had been completely destroyed but he had backups stashed in his office, just in case. It wasn't the first time his literally demonic temper had gotten the better of him and the cost of a few spare phones kept in a drawer along with all the jewelry Emma wouldn't accept from him was nothing. Killian's heart leapt into his throat as he fumbled in his pocket with uncharacteristic clumsiness, hoping against hope that it was Emma calling him again, despite the risk. If he had the chance to explain why he had taken up with Caroline Spencer when he was supposed to be dealing with the Dark One and made it look like he was more interested in sporting with a married woman and satisfying his lust than in doing what he'd promised then maybe she would forgive him for his infidelity and he would offer her anything she wanted, anything. But it was Jefferson's number that popped up on the screen instead and he grit his teeth in frustration. Still, the dealer wouldn't be calling him unless he had something important to share, he knew better than to bother his best customer, the infamous Mr. Jones with anything inconsequential and Killian needed all the information he could get so he answered on the second ring.

"Jefferson. What have you found out?"

"This shit is seriously fucked up."

He'd sent a sample of the Heaven's Gate heroin to Jefferson for testing and analysis since he wasn't just some low-level dealer, he was a brilliant chemist who had funded his entire degree at a prestigious, pricey college by selling his illegal concoctions in the dorms to his well-to-do classmates living it up on mom and dad's dime. Jefferson had been courted by several large

pharmaceutical companies even before graduation and could have had a storied career developing new treatments for modern plagues like HIV, Zika, bird flu, but he had fallen down a rabbit hole of uppers and downers and now made colourful pills with "Eat Me" inscribed on them instead. He hadn't completely fried his Ivy League brain though and he sounded dead serious.

"Explain," Killian demanded.

Jefferson immediately launched into what sounded like a textbook description of heroin, dry and clinical and peppered with very long words that Killian mostly recognized for their Latin origins and not for whatever the hell it was Jefferson was actually trying to say.

"Spare me the chemistry lecture," he interrupted when he could finally get a word in edgewise, "And get to the bloody point, Jefferson."

There was a loud huff on the other end. "Okay, okay...look, you know where heroin actually comes from, right?"

That he did know. "Poppies."

The bright red flowers had been used since antiquity to produce medicines and narcotics, it was the origin of both morphine, a miracle drug for pain relief to untold multitudes, and heroin, a hellaciously addicting destroyer of lives. As the forbidden fruit in the Garden contained the knowledge of both Good and Evil linked together in a single bite, so too did the poppy flower contain two opposing forces locked together for eternity in their innocuous-looking seeds. Killian had sent Emma many different flowers over the years, endless bouquets of roses, tulips, buttercups, forget-me-nots, orchids, gardenias, but he had never sent her poppies. As beautiful as they were, they meant death, the eternal sleep, and while he wanted eternity with a burning desire that had never abated, he didn't mean it like that.

"That's right," Jefferson agreed, and Killian could practically see him nodding over the phone. "Poppies, mostly from Afghanistan, but also China, Mexico, Columbia and Burma."

The mention of Burma reminded Killian of something else, but he pushed the thought away. Now was not the time for that.

"Usually the country of origin doesn't really matter, though, they're all the same flower anyway."

Killian picked up on that immediately and his tone sharpened, "Usually doesn't matter. But this strain is different, isn't it?"

"Yes," Jefferson sighed. "Heroin comes from the Papaver somniferum variety of poppy, the opium poppy. But poppies are like any other plant, there's more than just one kind. Most of the others are inert, they can't be used to produce opium and therefore heroin, but there's a few, rare subspecies of the common opium poppy that yield a stronger, more potent product. They've never been cultivated to the same degree because they're much more temperament, difficult to grow, harder to refine and your average illiterate Afghani poppy farmer isn't going to bother with it, if he could even get enough seeds to try, which he probably couldn't, not to turn a profit, at least. But if someone figured out a way to get a viable crop from one of these subspecies, then, well."

He thought of the list of names given to Emma by the Angel of Death herself, dozens of fatal overdoses fallen victim to a drug that promised Heaven and delivered Hell.

"And that's where the Heaven's Gate heroin comes from? One of these rare subspecies?"

Pieces were starting to click into place, a more potent strain explained why the high from the drug was reported to be much stronger and why it was so much easier to OD on it.

"I believe so, yes. But the real question is how. When I say these subspecies are rare, I don't mean they're unusual, I mean rare. They're nearly impossible to get outside of a few specimens in botanical gardens and university collections, it must have cost a fortune to establish, there's no supply chain in place, the usual importers have been completely bypassed, none of my contacts can even get their hands on a full brick. No one's wholesaling, which makes no goddamn sense, it's like it just appeared out of thin air one day already on the streets."

Killian gripped the phone a little tighter. Nothing Jefferson had said contradicted his theory that Rumpelstiltskin was somehow behind the trendy new drug, but neither was it definitive proof. The imp still chained up in his basement could have gotten it from someone else, they were naturally attracted to chaos, after all.

"Was there anything else? Anything at all, no matter how far fetched it might seem?"

There was a pause on the other end that told Killian there was something, his own instincts sensing that the dealer was holding back information. He felt his eyes flash crimson and when he spoke his voice was a dark, slithering growl.

"Tell me."

Jefferson answered with clear hesitation, "It's probably nothing, I mean, it's just something I found when I was doing a bit of research, trying to trace it back to the origin. Apparently the Nazis did some experiments with opium poppies, hell, the Germans were the ones who basically invented heroin in the first place anyway. Afghanistan and Germany had close ties even before the war, and I found some references to diplomats bringing poppy plants back to Berlin, including the rare varieties that the Nazis later used to try to crossbreed with the common opium poppy to create a hybrid strain that had the heightened potency combined with the ease of cultivation. They called it Himmelstür, which means-"

"Heaven's Door," Killian interrupted. He hadn't spoken German in years, but he was still as fluent in the language as he was in English and he knew what the word meant as soon as Jefferson said it. Heaven's Gate and Heaven's Door, the names were too similar for it to be a coincidence. Not to mention that the last time he had seen the Dark One in person had been right smack dab in the thick of World War II. As in all times of chaos and sin, the damned of Hell were there to enjoy the feast and the war that had engulfed the entire globe had practically been an all you can eat buffet.

"I know, I noticed it too. But that was what, seventy years ago? Anyway, the estate in Bavaria where they were actually growing the hybrids was bombed by the Allies near the end of the war and the plants themselves were all destroyed."

Seventy years was a long time to a mortal who could live out his entire lifespan in less than that, but to a demon, it was a blink of the eye. Heroin usage was rampant in the German army during the war and now it was on the rise again, had the Dark One planted seeds more than seventy years ago that were now bearing new fruit? Killian had been too focused on his own interests back then to pay much attention to what Rumpelstiltskin was up to, especially when he had come so close to…

"Mr. Jones?"

Jefferson's voice pulled him back to the present. "Right," Killian said, trying to put all the pieces together even though some were still missing. "A hybrid strain, possibly the same one the Nazis cultivated, but there's no proof, and no leads on who's behind it. Anything else?"

"No, at least, not about that. Look, if you take over the business I can definitely run the distribution for you and probably triple what it's doing now within six months, there'd be no competition for this and with my network already in place, you'd make a fucking fortune."

Killian had more money now than he could even spend despite his very expensive tastes and his secret contributions to Emma's charity, but that had never stopped him from greedily wanting more and he felt a surge at the prospect of doing exactly what Jefferson proposed. Cut the Dark One down and take everything for himself, make it his. It was a tempting idea, very tempting, he could even revive his old Hook persona and keep the drugs separate from his other business, just as he'd done with smuggling rum and other spirits as a pirate once upon a time.

"And…" Jefferson added, sounding a bit hesitant for a moment before he plowed on. "I just wanted to thank you for whatever strings you pulled with CPS, I get to see Grace twice a week now unsupervised and they said I can start overnight visits next month so long as my next two tests come back clean, I've already rented another house so there's no chance of her getting anywhere near anything again, it's even in a gated community and everything. I'm getting my daughter back, and I owe it all to you Mr. Jones, so if there's anything else you need-"

"I'll call you if there is."

Killian hung up, not bothering with goodbyes. The reminder that he'd done more than he was strictly obligated to under his deal with Jefferson made his shoulders tight and he grimaced as he dropped the phone back down on the bar. He'd only promised the dealer one afternoon with his beloved daughter, but it had been easy enough to get the paperwork approved for ongoing visits with a few well-chosen bribes and a bit of blackmail (everyone had skeletons in the closet, even social workers) and it kept Jefferson both compliant and in his debt. At least that's what Killian told himself.

He ignored the fact that there were other ways he could have made Jefferson much more permanently beholden to him that had nothing to do with the man's only child and focused on the new bits of information instead. Heaven's Gate and Heaven's Door. On the streets it was said that the name came from the euphoric high the drug produced, but Killian wasn't so certain now. He understood the "heaven" part, but the reference to gates and doors gave him pause. Both were barriers, boundaries, where one could go no further unless passage was granted. A damned sinner could reach the Gates of Paradise, but they would never open and grant admittance to what lay beyond, pure heavenly ecstasy unlike anything else.

Killian had a sense of what that was like. It was why he had never bothered trying the heroin himself, why he had told the succubus Zelena all those centuries ago when she tried to tempt him with Emma's face that he wouldn't settle for a false idol. Everything else was nothing but a pale imitation of what he really wanted, and he was far too greedy to stop trying to obtain the one thing he coveted above all else. It had taken years, but he had carefully arranged an almost perfect situation to bide his time until Emma fell at last. Her charity bound her to the city, giving her more incentive to stay and nurture it like a garden, not just answering individual prayers, but overseeing the soup kitchen and food pantry and other programs that his money went to fund every month. Her apartment and his condo were only a short drive apart, perfect for late night trysts and in an increasingly secular world there were very few gates left to bar him entry, no doors shut in his face as Damnate Infernum, Demon of Hell. Heaven was so close that he could touch it.

"Just let go and fall right into my arms, I'll be there to catch you, Emma, you know I will."

He couldn't afford any more indulgences now like Jefferson's daughter or the night he could have had everything but hesitated at the last second, unwilling to press his advantage and take what she was so close to offering at last. All she'd needed was the tiniest push...

Emma might forgive him for his other sins, but he couldn't be sure she would have forgiven him for that.

Killian wasn't sure if he would have forgiven himself for it.

The phone buzzed again an hour or so later, after he'd relived that night in his mind again a dozen times or more, cursing himself for his moment of weakness. It lit up on the bar, flashing like a beacon and he crossed the empty room faster than mortal eyes would have been able to follow to snatch it up. He moved like a shadow, casting himself in a whirl that briefly revealed his true form in his haste before it was hidden back under the handsome face and sea-blue eyes once more. A quick glance at the screen showed it was Scarlet calling now, hopefully with useful information or Killian was probably going to end up destroying another phone. He hadn't bothered to personalize the settings yet and with the way his night was going he didn't expect he was going to be setting the wallpaper or assigning ringtones anytime soon.

"Uh, Mr. Jones?"

Scarlet had found something, Killian could sense it with demonic instinct, keen as the blade on his iron knife. He rested his free hand on one of the tables shoved next to the bar, ruby ring as dark as a drop of blood heavy on his finger.

Dark as a demon's blood at least. Angelic blood was gold.

"William Scarlet," Killian drawled, slow and deliberate. Names were as important as the soul within the mortal vessel. Names, true names, were power, the only thing he had ever asked of Emma in exchange for his assistance was her name, something that, once given, could never be taken back. His invocation of Scarlet's name was followed by a single command, "Tell me what you know."

If Scarlet's soul had been his then it would have been impossible for the man not to answer, he would have been literally hellbound to obey. But while Scarlet was a sinner like everyone else who worked for him, he hadn't completely signed away that most valuable part of himself and there was no immediate reply to Killian's order.

"Okay look," Scarlet breathed, clearly flustered by what to him probably felt like a sudden compulsion to spill his guts. "I went to the hotel like you said and poked around, and I've got something, something pretty major, but before I tell you what it is I have one condition."

Killian's eyebrows raised at Scarlet's daring while the demon within began to salivate, awakened even more by a word that could only mean one thing. "You think you're in any position right now to impose conditions on me, Scarlet? You want to make a deal?"

The offer was like a stone dropped in a still pond, rippling out in waves much further than the initial fall. A single, seemingly small act, appearing no more significant than biting into an apple had, once upon a time, but everything came with a price. Killian wondered what it was that Scarlet wanted, money, probably. He was a thief, although he wasn't as stupid and reckless as Jacqueline and had never stolen anything from Killian directly like she had, or he might have been the one locked up in the basement.

"Yeah, I guess, just...no matter what happens, Anastasia is out. Completely. She walks away from the club, from everything and you guarantee that you won't go after her in any way, she's a hundred percent off limits. Deal?"

So it wasn't money, it was sex. He knew Scarlet's jealousy when it came to Anastasia would get the best of him eventually in the sadistic game Killian had been playing with the both of them, playing off Ana's lust for jewelry and designer clothes against Scarlet's white knight fantasies and there was a swell of dark satisfaction that made the air around him seem to shimmer with a smoky haze. "You want to make a deal for her? Your own private dancer, is that it? She only sucks your dick from now on?"

He was being deliberately crude because he wanted to hear Scarlet say it, to admit that he really wanted to own Anastasia and was giving in to his most selfish desires to acquire her, that deep down he was no different than the other men who came to the Jolly Roger and thought that their money could buy them not just a dance or a fuck, but that it gave them possession over the girls to use and abuse however they wanted.

"There is no greater sin than this."

"No, that's not-" Scarlet's voice rose with anger that only fueled Killian's glee even more, he relished these moments when the sinner finally gave into temptation and fell over the edge. Greed, lust and wrath, it was all oh so predictable but it didn't lessen the delightful anticipation of the damning confession that was about to come. There was a sound of a deep breath over the line as he clearly tried to get himself back under control and then he continued, sounding like he was talking through gritted teeth. "Look, I'm not asking you to give her to me like she's some kind of fucking trophy or prize, she's not, it's not like that, OK? I just...I just need her to be free of all this bullshit, she doesn't have to be with me. I know I fucked that up and it's my own fault."

Demonic glee was replaced by surprise, he hadn't expected that. Still, he recovered quickly, Anastasia must have promised Scarlet something, manipulated him into asking, wrapped him neatly back around her manicured finger. He let out an annoyed huff, he didn't really have time for this but he was still a corrupter of mortal souls and that side of him would not be so easily dissuaded from teasing out the real reason behind Scarlet's request. "That's what you want in exchange for this supposedly valuable information that you owe me anyway? Why?"

He could hear the discomfort in Scarlet's voice when he answered. "Does it matter?"

It did, but not for a reason Killian was about to explain to the man. He tapped his finger against the tabletop, making the ruby flash like a tiny flame. "If you want to make a deal with me, Mr. Scarlet, then you'll answer my question and tell my why Anastasia Tremaine's well-being is suddenly so damn important to you."

There was a long beat before he answered, mere seconds passed, but it was an eternity when standing on that precipice, the space between the decision to jump and the fall itself.

Scarlet decided to jump.

"Fine. Because I love her. That's why it's so damn important."

Killian literally pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it in utter disbelief. Scarlet was in love with Anastasia? And more than that, he was willing to make a deal for her? For a woman who had flaunted and fucked other men right under his nose and by Scarlet's own admission, was unwilling to take him back?

"You love her," Killian repeated his voice practically dripping with his contempt. "Really. Under that thin veneer of elegance and class you know exactly what she really is by now, don't you, Scarlet? She's a cold-hearted bitch, a grasping, gold-digging slut who only cares about one thing you don't have, money, no matter what convincing lies she's spun to tell you otherwise. Do you think she's capable of being just your girlfriend or your wife or is she going to drop you like a hot potato the second she gets what she wants from you and go running after the next CEO who walks through the Jolly Roger's door? You can't rescue her from the life she chose, you can't save her, she's...she's not worth it! That pretty face might be nice to look at but underneath it all is nothing good, nothing but the ugly truth that she'll never be more than an albatross around your neck, dragging you down to her level and mark my words, you'll end up despising her for it. How can you possibly claim to love...someone...like..that?"

He was breathing hard by the time he was finished, nostrils flaring and the temperature rising with each exhale as the hot puffs of air filled the room. Unseen flames licked down his spine and he was hot enough to scorch, to burn, to brand. The words had spilled out of their own accord, cracking like the lash of a whip and ready to leave scars.

"Yeah, well," Scarlet sighed, sounding resigned instead of angry, all of his wrath had leaked away. "Never said it made sense, did I? But I do love her, no matter what your opinion on the matter is, Mr. Jones. Do we have a deal or not?"

"It's going to cost you a lot more than just the information, which better be fucking good, by the way but yes, we have a deal."

There was another ripple in the air, pulsing like the beating of a heart as the word fell from his lips, sealing the agreement between them and fanning the fire even more. Scarlet was too stubborn for his own good, and his honourable streak would be his downfall in the end, just as it had for another man in another time, another place.

"Jones?"

"It was as good a name as any."

Not quite a lie, but not yet the truth. She would hear his confession if he chose to make it, he knew, but what absolution could there be for the damned of Hell? There was no point in unburdening himself and he put the smile back on his face while he reached again for the rum.

"I found the heroin dealers."

Killian's surprise that Scarlet had somehow managed to pull that off melted into something far more sinister as the man continued in a fast clip, talking about someone named "R. Gold" from London and his associates, a woman and the dealers Killian had fruitlessly been combing the city for, two young, clean-cut looking men, one of whom was named Mike. He filed the name and the descriptions away in his mind and listened to the rest of Scarlet's report with growing alarm, that the dealers had some kind of arrangement with this R. Gold to take out both Caroline Spencer and himself and he had unintentionally thwarted them by leaving the hotel early, not wanting to linger after the adultery was done.

He felt a pang of something he couldn't place at the thought of Caroline left alone to get caught in the crossfire of an ancient feud. She was a sinner, guilty of the crime of laying with a man not her husband, but she wasn't past redemption and Killian preferred to fight his own battles head on, not flee like a coward. If he had been there when the two dealers had come knocking...but he stopped that train of thought right in its tracks once he heard Scarlet's next words.

"Phase two? Twice as pure?"

Jefferson's talk of Nazi experiments with crossbreeds and hybrids immediately sprung to mind, along with the image of a pale, redheaded dancer with a needle in her arm and two grinning imps, feeding off the chaos they had caused and delighting in her overdose, one of many according to the Angel of Death herself, Elsa.

Had that merely been phase one?

"They're going to flood the streets with it...and boss, these people are freaks. They want to cause some serious damage with this stuff, deliberately and they think you're in their way."

Rumpelstiltskin must be smarting over the loss of his imp lackey, but leave it to the so called "Dark One" to rely on others to do his dirty work for him. Always the unnamed figure in the shadows, silently slipping between the pages of history and myth to sink back down unseen like a crocodile, hiding just below the surface until his next victim wandered too close to the water.

Scarlet was still talking while Killian listened with half an ear, at least until he said something that made him go still as a statue while the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

"And I think they're planning to kidnap some woman too, someone named Angela."

Angela.

Angela.

There was complete and utter silence for a moment, even his heart stopped beating and then started again with a rush of blood that Killian heard as a loud roaring in his ears as if a bonfire had just blazed to life. Only it was no ordinary fire, it was Hellfire, kindled in the very bowels of Infernum itself and fueled solely by his rapidly growing rage. If what he suspected was true...

"Angela," he repeated, pronouncing it the way Scarlet had, the modern name given to many women who probably gave little thought to the actual origin of it. In Latin, the pronunciation was different, the second syllable stressed slightly more than the first, the "G" sound was changed. A minor difference, almost unnoticeable. Almost.

"Was it Angela...or Angela?"

Beata Angela

Blessed Angel

Emma

"Yeah, that was it," Scarlet said carelessly, unaware of the real meaning. "Angela. Said she'd be theirs at last, their very own, blah blah blah. Like I said, freaks."

His eyes were no longer blue like the sea and the sky and his vision had gone completely red, as if everything around him was burning. Everything would burn, he'd turn the entire city right to ash to destroy the Dark One and damn the consequences.

"Boss?"

Scarlet was waiting for his orders. He would learn the full truth soon enough about just who Killian Jones was and what he had agreed to, for now he would remain in the dark. But he could still be of use this way.

"Find out everything else you can, I want names, pictures, license plates, addresses, everything. We have a deal, Anastasia is free to leave immediately. But you're not. Get me what I want, Scarlet or there will be literal Hell to pay."

It echoed in the room even after the call ended and stirred the curtains next to the stage while the empty glasses rattled with a loud clink that Killian scarcely heard. His shadow stretched and lengthened unnaturally across the floor, no longer the form of a man, hand snaking into the curved shape of a serpent. Or a hook. He slashed out violently with his arm and the shadow on the floor followed suit, scoring a line into the wood and completing the graven image that was etched there. Above him the lights flickered, liquor ignited into flame in their bottles behind the bar, the polished surfaces rippled like quicksilver and Killian stood in the middle of it all with his arms outstretched, letting it all soak in, every last sin that had been committed in the Jolly Roger, sins of adultery, greed, vanity, gluttony, theft and dozens more.

Rumpelstiltskin was R. Gold from London, the same city that the imp he had marked had immediately fled back to upon orders to deliver a message to its master. Rumpelstiltskin was behind the heroin, named for the impenetrable Gates of Paradise, through which a demon could never pass. Rumpelstiltskin would be responsible for untold misery if the next, more powerful batch was released on the streets, the cause of the inevitable violence and death that would follow and could turn the city from peaceful to a state of war practically overnight. He'd seen it happen dozens, hundreds of times before throughout history.

Rumpelstiltskin was after Emma.

Killian called her on his phone. It went straight to voicemail. He texted her. It stayed unread. There was one other surefire way he could reach her, but it was a method of last resort now. He couldn't risk her answering him in that way before he faced the Dark One, appearing in a blaze of heavenly light like she had in the Inquisition's prison. Zelena had tricked his secret out of him once and he wouldn't, couldn't, chance it happening again.

Unless….

The thought was as insidious as a spill of ink, sinking and spreading into every nook and cranny inside of him that it could find, a seductive whisper in his ear that was both terrible and wonderful at the same time. Pure sin coursed through his veins, not the ecstatic high promised by the drug he refused to touch but a siren's song he heard in her voice, trying to lure him towards the edge with a promise that he could finally have what he'd always wanted most of all.

Rumpelstiltskin coveted power, always had, he was drawn to talented souls full of potential like Maleficent's in Paris and he bargained and twisted and took that power for his own. Killian was not without his own abilities, but he knew he hadn't done nearly enough to reach the same level as the Dark One. The contract that lay ready and waiting with the silver pen for Scarlet to sign, the adultery with a married woman, the sins that took place in his club, it all served to enhance his true form and made him a more formidable opponent, but there was one thing that he could do and Rumpelstiltskin never could that would utterly guarantee his victory. He had sworn that he wouldn't, he hadn't wanted to win this way...but with everything on the line, what choice did he have now?

Killian closed his eyes against the lights that continued to burn overhead, harsh and unyielding, the light that revealed what had been hidden away in the dark under the shiny gloss of decadence and excess. Her voice echoed from the past, a memory of a night when he'd made a choice that was coming back now to haunt him.

"Don't look into the light!"

She had said that she always heard him. Was she listening, now?

"Forgive me, angel."

"Forgive me."

So long as she forgave him then it didn't matter if he never forgave himself. But there was no answer and he stood alone in the middle of his empty nightclub, turned away from the light and contemplating the greatest of sins.

[richincolor]

Need a Little Comic Relief?

When stress levels rise, humor can be an excellent way to ease the tension. Perhaps you’re ready to reach for some fun reading that could bring a smile to your face. Here are a few books I’ve read this year that have inspired laughter just when I need it.

The Epic Crush of Genie Lo by F.C. Yee Amulet Books [Jessica's review]

The struggle to get into a top-tier college consumes sixteen-year-old Genie Lo’s every waking thought. But when her sleepy Bay Area town comes under siege from hell-spawn straight out of Chinese folklore, her priorities are suddenly and forcefully rearranged.

Her only guide to the demonic chaos breaking out around her is Quentin Sun, a beguiling, maddening new transfer student from overseas. Quentin assures Genie she is strong enough to fight these monsters, for she unknowingly harbors an inner power that can level the very gates of Heaven.

Genie will have to dig deep within herself to summon the otherworldly strength that Quentin keeps talking about. But as she does, she finds the secret of her true nature is entwined with his, in a way she could never have imagined…

Always and Forever, Lara Jean (To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before #3) by Jenny Han Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

Lara Jean’s letter-writing days aren’t over in this surprise follow-up to the New York Times bestselling To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before and P.S. I Still Love You.

Lara Jean is having the best senior year a girl could ever hope for. She is head over heels in love with her boyfriend, Peter; her dad’s finally getting remarried to their next door neighbor, Ms. Rothschild; and Margot’s coming home for the summer just in time for the wedding.

But change is looming on the horizon. And while Lara Jean is having fun and keeping busy helping plan her father’s wedding, she can’t ignore the big life decisions she has to make. Most pressingly, where she wants to go to college and what that means for her relationship with Peter. She watched her sister Margot go through these growing pains. Now Lara Jean’s the one who’ll be graduating high school and leaving for college and leaving her family—and possibly the boy she loves—behind.

When your heart and your head are saying two different things, which one should you listen to?

American Panda by Gloria Chao Simon Pulse [Author interview]

At seventeen, Mei Lu should be in high school, but skipping fourth grade was part of her parents’ master plan. Now a freshman at MIT, she is on track to fulfill the rest of this predetermined future: become a doctor, marry a preapproved Taiwanese Ivy Leaguer, produce a litter of babies.

With everything her parents have sacrificed to make her cushy life a reality, Mei can’t bring herself to tell them the truth—that she (1) hates germs, (2) falls asleep in biology lectures, and (3) has a crush on her classmate Darren Takahashi, who is decidedly not Taiwanese.

But when she reconnects with her brother, Xing, who is estranged from the family for dating the wrong woman, Mei starts to wonder if all the secrets are truly worth it. Can she find a way to be herself, whoever that is, before her web of lies unravels?

From debut author Gloria Chao comes a hilarious, heartfelt tale of how unlike the panda, life isn’t always so black and white.

From Twinkle, With Love by Sandhya Menon Simon Pulse [Audrey's review]

spiring filmmaker and wallflower Twinkle Mehra has stories she wants to tell and universes she wants to explore, if only the world would listen. So when fellow film geek Sahil Roy approaches her to direct a movie for the upcoming Summer Festival, Twinkle is all over it. The chance to publicly showcase her voice as a director? Dream come true. The fact that it gets her closer to her longtime crush, Neil Roy—a.k.a. Sahil’s twin brother? Dream come true x 2.

When mystery man “N” begins emailing her, Twinkle is sure it’s Neil, finally ready to begin their happily-ever-after. The only slightly inconvenient problem is that, in the course of movie-making, she’s fallen madly in love with the irresistibly adorkable Sahil.

Twinkle soon realizes that resistance is futile: The romance she’s got is not the one she’s scripted. But will it be enough?

Told through the letters Twinkle writes to her favorite female filmmakers, From Twinkle, with Love navigates big truths about friendship, family, and the unexpected places love can find you.

Hearts Unbroken by Cynthia Leitich Smith Candlewick Press [Crystal's review]

When Louise Wolfe’s first real boyfriend mocks and disrespects Native people in front of her, she breaks things off immediately and dumps him.

It’s her senior year, anyway, and she’d rather spend her time on her family and friends and working on the school newspaper.

The editors pair her up with Joey Kairouz, the ambitious new photojournalist, and in no time the paper’s staff find themselves with a major story to cover: the school musical director’s inclusive approach to casting “The Wizard of Oz” has been provoking backlash in their mostly white, middle-class Kansas town.

From the newly formed “Parents Against Revisionist Theater” to anonymous threats, long-held prejudices are being laid bare and hostilities are spreading against teachers, parents, and students—especially the cast members at the center of the controversy, including Lou’s little brother, who’s playing the Tin Man.

As tensions heighten at school, so does a romance between Lou and Joey—but as she’s learned, “dating while Native” can be difficult. In trying to protect her own heart, will Lou break Joey’s?

The Way You Make Me Feel by Maurene Goo Farrar, Straus and Giroux [Jessica's review]

Clara Shin lives for pranks and disruption. When she takes one joke too far, her dad sentences her to a summer working on his food truck, the KoBra, alongside her uptight classmate Rose Carver. Not the carefree summer Clara had imagined. But maybe Rose isn’t so bad. Maybe the boy named Hamlet (yes, Hamlet) crushing on her is pretty cute. Maybe Clara actually feels invested in her dad’s business. What if taking this summer seriously means that Clara has to leave her old self behind?

Down and Across by Arvin Ahmadi Viking Books for Young Readers [Crystal's review]

Scott Ferdowsi has a track record of quitting. Writing the Great American Novel? Three chapters. His summer internship? One week. His best friends know exactly what they want to do with the rest of their lives, but Scott can hardly commit to a breakfast cereal, let alone a passion.

With college applications looming, Scott’s parents pressure him to get serious and settle on a career path like engineering or medicine. Desperate for help, he sneaks off to Washington, DC, to seek guidance from a famous professor who specializes in grit, the psychology of success.

He never expects an adventure to unfold out of what was supposed to be a one-day visit. But that’s what Scott gets when he meets Fiora Buchanan, a ballsy college student whose life ambition is to write crossword puzzles. When the bicycle she lends him gets Scott into a high-speed chase, he knows he’s in for the ride of his life. Soon, Scott finds himself sneaking into bars, attempting to pick up girls at the National Zoo, and even giving the crossword thing a try—all while opening his eyes to fundamental truths about who he is and who he wants to be.

Not Your Villain by CB Lee Duet Books [Jessica's review]

Bells Broussard thought he had it made when his superpowers manifested early. Being a shapeshifter is awesome. He can change his hair whenever he wants, and if putting on a binder for the day is too much, he’s got it covered. But that was before he became the country’s most-wanted villain.

After discovering a massive cover-up by the Heroes’ League of Heroes, Bells and his friends Jess, Emma, and Abby set off on a secret mission to find the Resistance. Meanwhile, power-hungry former hero Captain Orion is on the loose with a dangerous serum that renders meta-humans powerless, and a new militarized robotic threat emerges. Everyone is in danger. Between college applications and crushing on his best friend, will Bells have time to take down a corrupt government? Sometimes, to do a hero’s job, you need to be a villain.

[winsister91]

Make Amends

Part Fourteen - No

This series is a sequel to Breaking A Promise.

Characters: Dean x reader, Sam, Cas

Warnings: Language, ANGST, violence and gore, sad boys, one fucked up reader

Word Count: 2200~

A/N: This...for some reason hurt.

Series Masterlist Full Masterlist

~ Series and forever tags are open! ~

You watch Dean, Sam, and Cas looking up at you. Sam and Cas’ eyes are wide as they scan the destruction around, the bodies, the ceiling still engulfed in fire. Dean’s eyes are firmly on you, narrowed and his jaw clenched sternly. Your jaw trembles, still clutching the Bartender Demon in your grasp and not knowing what the fuck to do.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stutter with a choked voice, “I can’t stop it.”

“We’re going to help you,” Sam urges desperately, weary as the building groaned threateningly, “Just stop and come back with us.”

You exhale shakily, your heart thumping erratically, “She won’t let me.”

“She?” Dean questions, taking a daring step forward.

The Demon in your hold squirms, trying to wriggle free. You keep a tight hold on him while your heart thuds erratically against your rib cage, “Dean,” you look to him with wide, pleading eyes, “I don’t know what to do.”

A sharp pain floods your head and you cry out, dropping the demon and clutching at your temple.

“No!” you scream, the pain seers white hot, a sharp ringing attacking your eardrums.

S’not my fault you wasted your moment.

With another cry of agony, you notice your limbs moving against your will. A smile spreading on your face that you didn’t want. You got back up to your feet, turning back to the Demon who was now trying to scramble away. Your hand raises and he freezes on the spot, an aura of blue light surrounding him. Clenching your palm into a fist, you hear yourself giggle as his head literally pops into a bloody mush on the ground.

“Oh I do love magic tricks,” you hear yourself giggle, your heart thumps with panic as you try to fight back for control.

“Y/N,” Dean starts, his face flinching slightly at the gory mess you created, “Whatever is going on, we’re going to fix it, okay?”

“That isn’t Y/N,” Cas intervenes, scanning you up and down with suspicion, “She’s...changed…”

“Oh I think you’ll find it is Y/N,” you taunt, shrugging and folding your arms on the stage, looking down at the trio, “Think of me as...an upgrade.”

The building groans again, larger chunks of burning debris crashing to the floor, prompting a giggle from your lips.

You are not me.

“I’m the part of her with no filter,” your eyes glow and the fire across the ceiling burns brighter and fiercer, “The part of her that loves the power…” you look at Dean, poking your tongue between your teeth in a tease, “The part that ‘likes the disease’.”

A small growl rumbles from Dean's throat as he scowls. Seeing him look up at you with such disgust like he is now, makes your heart clench before it breaks.

“The part of her that will do anything to reach that endgame,” you continue, moving your gaze to the younger Winchester, “Even though she knows it’s wrong and addictive.”

Sam breathes out heavily, his chest heaving and the corner of his lip twitching as he furrows his brow.

“That rebellious anger she constantly buries,” you sigh, now dropping to sit on the edge of the stage, picking up a discarded blade and balancing the handle perfectly on your fingertip, smiling at the blue aura that kept it stable, “Go against her family and use this amazing power to…” you giggle, now winking at Cas, “Become a God in her own right.”

“You are not a God,” Castiel’s shoulders bunch up as he glares back at you, “You are human, and the human body can’t take this much power, at this rate you’ll burn out.”

“And what do you know huh!?” you snap, the blade on your fingertip suddenly flying through the air and hovering in front of the angel’s unflinching face, “How many people like me have even existed huh!? I’m a freaking powerhouse!”

Stop it. Please.

“Y/N that’s enough!” Dean bellows, his eyes burning angrily straight to your soul, “I know you’re still in there somewhere and I am not losing you!”

“Sweet Prince…” you pout and hold your heart overdramatically, “You’re making my heart all fluttery.”

Your eyes drop to your palm holding your chest, it’s trembling involuntarily and your head tilts in surprise.

“Oh ho!” you cheer in shock, holding the shaking hand out, “What do you know? Humanity can muster up some strength occasionally.”

“Y/N!” Dean shouts again, and your hand shakes more violently, “Come back to me Baby, fight it!”

“I’m bored of this now,” you tut, dropping from the stage onto the floor and idly strolling towards the boys who all arch up defensively in sync, “This is me now boys, you don’t like it? You’ll have to kill me.”

Your eyes flit to black, and a simple flick of your wrists send Sam and Cas hurtling through the air and into the walls behind them. You giggle as Dean charges forward, and you effortlessly stop him in his tracks, holding him still on the spot with your powers.

Stop it!!

You sidle up to Dean, hovering your lips over his and smirking. You can see him shaking with an uncontrollable rage, the mark on his arm suddenly glowing brightly as he struggled to fight against your magic.

“Hey…” you coo, biting your lip and summoning the still floating blade into your grasp, “D’ya think if I go ahead and slice that pretty little throat of yours, the irresistible Demon Dean comes back to play? I liked him, so….wicked.”

“Y/N, please, fight this,” he growls through gritted teeth.

You so much as lay a fucking finger on him...

“You’ll do what huh!?” you shout out loud at yourself. Dean’s brow furrows again as he watches you, “So many empty threats girl! You want this to stop then, by all means, stop me!”

There’s a moment’s silence. Dean watches you, internally pleading for anything to happen. Something to end this fucking torture. He couldn’t watch you turn into this monster, if it came down to it, he knew what had to be done.

Your ears prick up to the sound of shuffling. Sam and Cas coming around.

“Well, time’s up,” you shrug, shooting Dean a mock look of sympathy, “Sorry, Prince. I was going to keep you alive and slowly tap that fucking wonderful nectar that pumps through your veins. But if I just end you, she might shut up and cower into some dark quiet corner of this over-crowded head.”

Twirling the blade in your hand, you swing, aiming for a direct jab at his throat.

The sound of Sam and Cas’ cries flood your ears. You can hear them scrambling, running to stop you. There was no doubt in your mind they were ready to take you down, you kind of wanted to let them, but you weren’t going down without mustering every last ounce of fight in you.

“No!!” you scream harshly, and your swing stops mere centimeters away from Dean’s jugular.

The flames that licked at the ceiling melted away into nothing. Whatever hold you had on Dean was suddenly gone, and he was quick to realize it. A half-moment passes before you feel the knife slapped from your wrist and it clatters to the ground. You gasp heavily, looking up into his eyes as he watched yours turn back to normal.

“Y/N?” he breathes.

“Dean…” you whisper shakily, your entire body trembling, “I...I’m-”

Oh please, you caught me off guard. That’s all.

You feel your head instantly begin to throb like before. You pull at your hair, grimacing at the pain and pressure already began to build back up.

“S-she’s fighting back,” you panic, losing your balance and stumbling into a nearby table, “I- I can’t…”

“Baby,” Dean grabs your arms, holding you firm and steady as he looks intently into your eyes, “You can. Stay with me.”

You whimper in pain. Before you can speak another word you feel his lips on yours. You melt into him, your heart stopping for a moment in shock. You couldn’t believe after everything he still refuses to give up on you. Clutching him back, you let his kiss keep you at the helm.

Do you hear that?

You notice a thumping sound. Rhythmic like a heartbeat. It pounds in your eardrums, louder with each thump. Something stirs in your guts. A hunger. A too familiar hunger.

You hear that sweet blood coursing in his veins? The Mark’s blood. So much power you can taste it. You could so easily just take it.

The pain in your head reignites with ferocity, making you whine and shove Dean back.

“No,” you mumble, shaking your head and repeating the word over and over again as again you clutched at your hair, “No. I won’t!”

“Y/N?” Dean looks at your, his eyes full of pain and worry. You can still hear his pulse, thudding endlessly in your ear drums no matter how much distance you put between the two of you.

“No!” you shout, dropping to your knees and hunching over.

“What do we do?” Sam questions aloud, at a total loss at the entire situation.

Cas approaches you, trying to get close and see if he could help but every time you shook him off as the Demon voice in your head continued to taunt.

Man, you are so fucked up. What even are you anymore? So much hunger and you really don’t want to feed it? Look at this buffet! We got Mark of Cain blood, Angel grace...Hey! Maybe even some Azazel tainted blood huh? Three perfectly good sources to feed and you really think you won’t succumb eventually? C’mon now. You’re a freaking monster, start acting like one.

“I don’t know,” Dean growls, his shoulders dropping hopelessly and frustration evident in his voice, “Fucking knock her out or something!?”

Your eyes widen, an idea striking you. Risky, but...doable.

“Dean,” you strain to speak through the pain, “G-get some dream root.”

“What?” he narrows his eyes at you in bewilderment.

“Why do we need dream root?” Sam lowers himself to meet your eye level, “You’re not making sense.”

“I tried to finish it, the-” you stop and wince in pain, hastily trying to explain while your head screams, “I-I haven’t tested it yet…” A hot sticky sensation covers just above your top lip as your nose begins to bleed from all the pressure building. Time was nearly out, you had to do it now before you lost control again.

You quickly mumble an incantation you never thought you’d ever speak, and the boys watch as your body suddenly becomes limp and falls the floor.

“Y/N!!” Dean cries, dropping to your side and lifting you into his lap. He brushes the hair from your face, holding you tightly as his eyes began to burn, “Y/N!?”

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

The Bunker was eerily quiet. Dean was at your bedside, refusing to leave. You’d been completely KO the entire drive back. Not even the smallest sound passed your lips. Cas had tried to bring you out of it to no avail, he had no clue what was wrong or what you had done, but you were alive.

Dean held your hand tightly, the iron shackles around your wrist cold against his skin. They weren’t taking any chances that you’d still be you if and when you awake. It had been an entire day now, and Dean stayed by you. He hadn’t slept or eaten, he couldn’t bring himself to. Much to Sam and Cas’ protest.

“C’mon Sweetheart,” Dean wiped a hand down his face, groaning as his eyes were painfully heavy, “I need you. Fucking, yell at me for not sleeping or eating or something. I can’t handle another day of this..”

As expected, you don’t react or stir. Just like the past numerous times he’d helplessly tried to talk you out of this apparent coma.

“How did we end up back like this…?” Dean sighs, his face grimacing while his heart wrenches painfully, “I thought we were finally past all this...potion crap. Then the whole Angel Radio stuff started happening…”

His words trail off into a deep sigh. Every fiber of his being wanted you to be able to hear him, but he knew the reality that you couldn’t. Your face blank and eyes firmly shut. He could see your eyelids twitching with movement constantly, like you were having some kind of endless vivid dream.

He feels his eyes beginning to burn again and he fights to hold it back. He kisses firmly on the back of your palm that he held and then sucks in a deep breath. His foot taps on the floor anxiously, the click from the sole of his shoe hitting the hard floor becoming the only audible noise.

“It’ll be okay Baby,” he mutters, more to try and convince himself, “We’ll get through this. We always do.”

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