#fic: once upon a time

[wingdingery]

for @anawrites3, the deleted intro from once upon a time (BruDick Cinderella AU ft. Slade as the fairy godmother)

__________

It’s not just that he can’t buy the dress.

Dick’s resourceful, and he has friends—he’s sure he could convince someone to help buy it for him, if he really wanted. So he can’t use that as an excuse for why he’s just standing there, staring at the dress instead of making a plan to purchase it.

The real issue is what he wants the dress for.

A carriage clatters down the street, and he jumps and hurries away from the dressmaker’s window before anyone notices him, only to slam face-first into someone solid enough to send him sprawling backward. Hands grab him and pull him up, and he finds himself face-to-face with the king of Defiance.

Slade raises an eyebrow, looking between Dick and the dress in the window, and Dick fights back his flush as he yanks himself out of Slade’s grip and marches off.

Slade catches up with him easily. “Not very polite of you.”

“Like you’ve ever been polite,” Dick says without stopping. “What are you doing here?”

“What is everyone else doing here?”

It’s a fair response—it’s only a few days before The Ball, after all.

That’s how Dick’s thought of it, since he first heard of it. The Ball. The one where King Bruce—thirty and five, this year—will finally choose someone to rule by his side.

Invitations were sent to nobility and royalty far and wide—within Gotham, to Kandor and Themyscira, even to Defiance and Nanda Parbat. In some ways, it’s more of a political event than anything else, bringing in powerful people from far and wide to make connections and strike agreements. One will make the most powerful connection of all.

Dick doesn’t need a crystal ball to know that it won’t possibly ever be him.

It doesn’t mean he can’t dream about it, though; doesn’t mean he can’t let his eyes catch on a shimmering flash of blue and look at it and think, what if.

“Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be interested,” Dick says. “It’s not as though it’s a tournament.”

“You think I would turn down the opportunity to become King Consort of Gotham?”

Dick gives him an unimpressed look. “Yes.”

He first encountered Slade three years ago on the battlefield, trying to finish the war his son started. It ended in a truce after his second son died. Dick thought, then, that Slade was more interested in having his son back than in power, and it seemed he was right—Defiance had been a quiet neighbor ever since.

Slade smirks slightly. “My daughter was interested in the ball. I was interested in what had become of you. But it seems you have your eyes on someone else.”

Dick scowls. “Shut up.”

“I could have your tongue for that,” Slade says idly.

“Not in Gotham, you can’t.”

“Perhaps not.” Slade’s eye flashes. “Are you intending the ball as a candidate?”

“You know I can’t.”

“But you want to.”

“What I want doesn’t matter.”

“And if I could make it happen?”

Dick’s steps stutter, and he looks sidelong at Slade, who seems serious. It’s… worth considering, honestly. Slade has access to money, and magic. He could get Dick into the ball as part of Defiance’s entourage. He could give Dick everything he needs to pull this off.

But he won’t do it for free.

“What would you ask in return?” Dick says.

Slade smiles. “I’ll do everything in my power to give you every advantage you’d like,” he says. “But if at the end of this, you still aren’t the future consort of Gotham—you’ll become the future consort of Defiance instead.”

[anto-pops]

Envy's Grip - Sylus x Female!Reader

Summary: There was no field guide on how to handle your best friend coming back to life. But in hindsight, maybe keeping it from your crime lord boyfriend wasn’t the best course of action. 

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, rough sex, miscommunication (kind of), a sprinkle of jealous Sylus (or as jealous as he can be, he knows he's fine)

Full fic can also be found here on Ao3

Sylus was perceptive. 

It wasn’t a new trait, by any means. He had always been annoyingly aware of everything. Sometimes it seemed like he knew your own thoughts before you voiced them– though he insisted you were just easy to read and that it had nothing to do with him using his Evol to his advantage. Now was one of those times where you could tell he was scrutinizing you from afar, having picked up on the influx of emotions that overwhelmed your mind and left your body tense. 

Caleb was alive. 

The revelation had left you breathless– utterly at a loss for words as you had stared at him standing before you whole and well. Well, almost whole. The mechanical arm had thrown you for a loop, but it was his eyes that had broken down the wall of doubt between the two of you. Those bright, violet irises silently conveyed a lifetime of emotion that told you then and there that somehow, someway, your childhood friend was back from the dead. 

How the hell were you supposed to go about your day after discovering something like that? 

When Sylus had asked you the day after what had you looking so dreary, you had waved off his concern with a lie. “There’s a mandatory work meeting next weekend. All my plans with Tara are ruined.” 

He had furrowed his brow at that statement, evidently confused as to why he hadn’t heard anything about your weekend plans up until that moment. You were terrible at lying, and it felt awful to do it– especially with Sylus. You had just prayed that he would overlook your nervous behavior and let you get away with it. 

That same day, Sylus’ eyes had narrowed during lunch while you’d chewed your own nails off in favor of the roast he had cooked for the two of you, but you had done your best to play off the anxious habit as something else work related. Then you had jumped– actually jumped– when he’d walked into the living room while you’d zoned out staring at a wall, his sudden presence jerking you back to the present with your heart hammering and your eyes wide. 

“You need to wear a bell,” was all you had said when he’d asked why you were so jumpy. His lips had pursed while he’d worked a muscle in his jaw, opting to keep his innermost thoughts to himself. 

Then there was right now; your form was sloppy, and your shoulder was aching from the lack of control you threw your punches with. The boxing bag hanging from the ceiling of Sylus’ home gym swayed towards you listlessly, the lack of power in your attacks barely causing the chain to rattle the way it normally would. Using your gloved hand, you halted the bag’s momentum, your chest heaving as you drew in deep, steadying breaths to ground yourself. The sweat that dripped down your temples chilled your otherwise heated skin, and you hastily wiped the moisture away using the back of your forearm before swallowing thickly. 

You were a mess.

As you turned to make your way to the edge of the ring for your water bottle, Sylus tracked your movements with predatory-like precision. He didn’t blink, didn’t shift from his spot against the wall. It hardly looked like he was even breathing. The floor to ceiling mirrors that lined the entirety of the gym clued you in on the dark expression that crossed his face the second you turned your back to him, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the air vent overhead snaked its way down your spine. 

“How do I put this nicely…” Sylus’ deep, throaty timbre reverberated off the walls, and you did your best to ignore him as you brought your bottle to your lips. “The way you’re performing now, you’re on par to fight a toddler.” 

Prick. Water dribbled down your chin as you tightened the water cap and set the container down. “That’s what the practice ring is for. Practice. I’m not trying to show out.” 

“No, clearly you’re not. You’re trying to distract yourself.” 

Ever the discerning crime lord. “I’m working out, Sylus. Since when does that require perfect form?” Placing your hands on your hips, you glared at his reflection in the mirror. “More importantly, why are you just standing there watching? It’s weird.” 

He feigned disinterest by looking at his nails, a move that infuriated you as much as it intrigued you. Sylus always looked so effortlessly handsome. The sight of him posted up against the wall with his muscled arms crossed over his broad chest almost distracted you from the rampant thoughts about Caleb that had plagued your brain for the last two days. Almost. “You might be ‘practicing’, but you’re doing yourself a disservice by not utilizing your full potential. That stance is pathetic, and your punches couldn’t hurt a fly. To add insult to injury, you already know all of this.”

“And I really don’t care. Go find Kieran or Luke if you want to criticize someone, I’m not in the mood.”

Sylus went quiet behind you as you began unstrapping your gloves, and a few beats of silence passed before you lifted your gaze back to the mirror. He was staring at you intently, ruby red eyes flickering darkly and narrowing. It wasn’t exactly the expression he wore when he was angry– not when it still hid a sliver of possessive longing within his dark pupils. But even so, it was enough. You felt arousal curling hot in your gut at the sight, and Sylus’ eyes flicked up to your damp hair clinging to your forehead as a wicked smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. 

“Then what are you in the mood for?” Sylus purred the question, pushing off the wall to stalk over to the boxing platform. He shrugged off his jacket as he walked, tossing it haphazardly over the rope barrier before effortlessly hoisting himself up and stepping into the ring. “Want me to leave you alone? Completely? Back off and let you think about your long lost friend in peace?” 

Oh, shit. 

Your mouth fell open at the realization that he knew. How? When had he found out? Your mind whirred with the possibilities and your blood rushed to your cheeks, heating your skin and imbuing you with an overwhelming sense of guilt. It had never been like that with Caleb, but did Sylus know that? Did he think the worst? How much of the impromptu reunion was he aware of? 

“Cat got your tongue, kitten?” He goaded you further, prowling towards you without an ounce of hesitation. You held up your palms towards him as though to stop him, but he captured your smaller hands in his larger ones and threaded your fingers together, pulling you against his chest with a throaty chuckle devoid of any humor. “Did you really think I didn’t know why you’ve been so out of it lately?” 

“Sylus, I–” you stopped yourself, indignant anger taking root as you realized he had somehow invaded your privacy. “Did you follow me? You ass! How do you even know about that?”

He ignored your pointed line of questioning and pressed on with his brows furrowed. “Were you ever planning on telling me? Or would you have kept quiet and silently debated on whether or not rushing back to his side is a good plan?”

“What? Don’t you dare turn this back on me, you spied on me!” 

“I was in the city on business. Nothing special, but I wanted to stop by to see you once I was done. Imagine my surprise when I saw you in the park with him on the way to my meeting.” 

You tsk’d in annoyance, rolling your eyes in disbelief. “Business. It’s always business with you. Why does it matter that I didn’t immediately run to you to fess up about my friend not being dead?” 

“Because you lied to me.” The way he growled the blatant fact made your retort die in your throat. The anger that had burned hot in your veins cooled instantly, and you blanched as Sylus continued icily. “Taking your time to process it? That I can understand. But you looked me right in my eyes and came up with some half-assed excuse about work. You didn’t trust me with this, even though we agreed we would always be honest with one another.” 

You stammered, “Sylus, wait– I wasn’t–” 

He let go of one of your hands to capture your chin in his firm grip, forcing your eyes to meet his as he stared down at you. His hold wasn’t painful, but it was unrelenting, and the angle left you wholly at his mercy as he slipped his other hand around your back to hold you flush to him. “You weren’t what? Keeping secrets? Giving me unwarranted attitude?”

“None of this is your business!” You jerked your head out of his hold and wedged your hands between the two of you, shoving him away so abruptly that the tiniest grunt escaped his lips. Your eyes were frantic as you exclaimed, “I wouldn’t have left– I just– dammit! Just give me a minute here!”

He gave you ten seconds of uninterrupted silence. The tense kind that set your teeth on edge and made your skin crawl. Then you looked back at him, shocked to discover an icy cool expression painted across his sharp features. The unyielding wall that had existed between you both when you’d first met had been reconstructed in record time, the lack of warmth in his eyes speaking volumes of how he really felt. 

“Take all the time you need, Miss Hunter.” 

When he turned his back to you and started towards the ropes, your heart nearly gave out as your stomach plummeted into your feet. He couldn’t walk away from this– not after he had implied the worst without letting you explain. You had no clue how he even knew about Caleb, but clearly Sylus assumed your relationship with him was something more, and it scared you to think that your lover doubted you. Worse, that he doubted himself. 

Your body acted of its own accord, carrying you forward fast enough that you were able to coil your fingers around Sylus’ thick wrist. He stopped dead in his tracks, but he didn’t turn to look at you. On instinct, you darted around him so you were standing before him, then rose up onto the tips of your toes so you could crush your lips to his. 

Sylus’ reaction was slow; he inhaled sharply before his hands slowly came to the back of your neck, holding your mouth to his as an animalistic growl resonated from deep within his chest. He stepped closer to you, blindly leading you towards the edge of the ring until you felt your back press against the ropes, and Sylus used the newfound barrier to his advantage and rolled his hips against yours while his tongue delved deeper into your mouth. It was equal parts suffocating and exhilarating. Your every sense was overtaken by him– his heady scent, the muscular feeling of him, the guttural sounds he made as he devoured you. 

Sylus’ lips trailed away from yours to mouth wetly at your jaw, and your head fell back as a raspy moan escaped you when he ground his hips into you. The hard length of him was tangible through his dress pants, and the thin pair of leggings you wore did little to deter the feeling. Your hands drifted down his toned biceps and along his taut stomach before your fingers curled tellingly over his belt buckle. The tug you gave the leather material was ardent, your desires taking over your better judgement. Rational thinking had suggested you talk things out with Sylus like adults. To speak to him about loyalty and remind him that he had nothing to worry about as far as Caleb was concerned. 

But bringing up Caleb right now was the absolute last thing you wanted to do. Fucking like adults might also do the trick. 

An airy whimper sounded from you as Sylus roughly brushed your hands away from his belt, taking control of the situation and yanking your sweat-soaked t-shirt over your head. Your sports-bra went next, and the peaks of your breasts pebbled in response to the cold air surrounding you. When you blinked up at the man through hazy eyes, his own orbs were dark and hooded, and the way he licked his lips made you want to kiss him again badly. You weren’t far gone enough to think you deserved it yet, though– not even when Sylus leaned forward to start mouthing down your throat, his tongue trailing against your sweat-slick skin as he descended lower and lower. 

Just when you thought Sylus would end up on his knees in front of you, he was back to his full height. He wasted little time taking you by the hips and assertively guiding you down to the floor of the boxing ring. Dazed, you blinked up at the white haired man, staring at him long enough to catch sight of the strained expression he hid behind his calm facade. It almost looked like he was pained. It confused you, but questioning it wasn’t possible once Sylus shuffled down to settle between your legs. 

You felt his blunt nails scrape against your hip bones as he tugged your panties and leggings away, tossing both of them aside before laying flat between your bent knees. He wasn’t looking at you. He wasn’t talking with you the way he normally would when the two of you were intimate. In fact, there wasn’t anything that was intimate about this aside from you being fully exposed to him. There he was, fully clothed between your legs and inches away from your womanhood, and yet not a lick of warmth emanated from him. 

Suddenly, your morose thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of Sylus licking a broad, flat stripe up your slit, your breath catching as the man took care to add a sinful amount of pressure to your bundle of nerves. 

“Fuck,” you managed to wheeze, your hands flying to Sylus’ soft locs as he wrapped his lips around your clit, then sucked hard enough that your back arched off the floor. Another rough moan escaped you as Sylus splayed his fingers against the underside of your thigh and dug his nails into the tender flesh there. He did the same with your other leg, and the bruising strength he held your legs apart with was something that enticed you as much as it confused you. 

Make no mistake: rough sex with Sylus was always phenomenal, and it was most definitely something you enjoyed partaking in. But there was a missing puzzle piece here– something irregular that had your heart weighing heavy in your chest as you gazed breathlessly to the ceiling. 

You wished Sylus would say something. He hadn’t since you had grabbed for him just minutes prior, nor had he let you undress him like you’d wanted to. The disappointing memory of him crudely swatting your hands away from his belt returned to you then and imbued you with a lingering sense of remorse. Shit, you would settle for him just looking at you by this point. Anything other than the cold, rigid version of your lover before you now. 

Unbeknownst to your internal turmoil, Sylus sat back on his haunches and slid his hands to your waist, flipping you over onto your stomach and allowing for him to manhandle your legs apart. Part of you wanted to protest against the position, but then you felt your lover begin to mouth hotly down your spine and press chaste kisses to your warm skin, and your inhibitions started to melt. It was the first real show of Sylus’ softer side. The gentle press of his index finger against your entrance further derailed your train of thought, and as Sylus slowly breached your fluttering walls with the digit, you couldn’t help but breathe out a soft moan.  

The tenderness left you shaking– trembling–  for more. 

As Sylus started to pump his finger slowly, he took care to remain incredibly attentive to the way you wriggled and keened for more, your face half-buried in the crook of your arm. His free hand came to rub soothing circles against your hip as he gingerly added a second finger to join the first, and the tantalizing stretch had you gasping and squeezing your eyes shut. “F-Fuck, Sylus,” you mumbled, the words muffled slightly by your own arm pressed against your lips. 

You felt Sylus lean forward, his warm breath fanning across your ear as he asked, “Does it feel good?” 

You rocked your hips back onto the fingers easing you open, nodding and gasping breathlessly as the crime lord pressed against your inner walls incessantly in search of that one spot he knew would reduce you to a babbling mess. It didn’t take long for him to find it. Before long, Sylus slid his fingers deeper and curled them up, and the sudden jolt of pleasure that ran through you caused you to mewl your lover's name loudly. 

Taking your reactions as his cue, Sylus proceeded to work you with his fingers faster, brushing the pads of his digits over that magical spot within you every time without fail. The overwhelming sensations left your body quaking as fiery hot arousal coursed through your veins, the beginnings of your climax festering in your gut. As blissful as it was, you had no desire to end things like this; on your knees and with your back to Sylus while he used his damn hands to undo you. 

Blearily, you pushed yourself up with your arms, craning your head around to stare at the man through your lashes. “C-Come on, Sylus,” you implored him weakly. “Please?” 

Sylus met your gaze for the briefest of moments, his eyes dancing away before you could get a good look at him. He mercifully withdrew his fingers, trailing the appendages against your inner thighs and inducing a wave of goosebumps along your skin, then sat back to begin removing his clothing. It was methodical– swift, even. All you could do was watch in the reflection of the mirror as Sylus stripped himself bare without your aid, tossing his clothes off to the side of the boxing ring before returning to his kneeled position behind you. 

Sighing, you ran your hand through your hair dejectedly, accepting that Sylus’ colder nature was your own fault. How could you blame him? Beyond keeping the truth about Caleb from him, you had pushed him away when he’d tried to get close to you. It didn’t look good for you, and you found yourself lowering yourself back to the ground with your face buried in the crook of your arm. Whether you were hiding from Sylus or your own embarrassment, you didn’t know. 

As Sylus lined himself up with your wet entrance, the tiniest sigh escaped him when the blunt head of his cock rubbed softly against you. His firm, warm hands settled on your hips as he asked, “Ready?” 

You could sass him, or rush him along, or just generally be an ass to him in response to him being so closed off, but you didn’t. The air between the two of you was different than it was before, even though Sylus was keeping all his sweetness to himself. You told yourself that you didn’t deserve it anyways and nodded shakily. 

At your confirmation, Sylus sighed and squeezed your hips, then began to sink his thick, perfect cock deep inside of you with slow, gentle thrusts. You gasped and hid your face in your arms, rocking back onto the larger man as you muffled needy little noises against your skin. When Sylus bottomed out, he moaned and ran his hands up your sides, over your ribs, so gentle and so fucking nice that you kind of wished he would just rail you through the floor of the ring. How amazingly soft he was being while distancing himself was making your chest ache. 

It didn’t last long, thankfully. When Sylus gave an experimental roll of his hips and found you more than a little eager for his cock, he groaned and pulled back farther before ramming his dick into you, and the way you cried out for it covered the throaty moan that had escaped his lips. The crime lord set the pace just like that; hard and fast, impaling you and wringing gasping cries out of you easily. The arch of your back let Sylus’ cock slide along your sweet spot with every rough thrust, and the feeling had your eyes fucking crossing. 

It was too good. Your thoughts were crashing, noisy moans sounding from you freely. You were entirely sure you were drooling all over the padding of the ring’s floor, but you didn’t really care when Sylus was fucking you so thoroughly. The fingers digging into your hips pulled you back hard even as Sylus pounded his cock into your wet, tight heat, leaving you completely and utterly helpless for it. 

You didn’t know if Sylus had a cruel streak or a merciful one, because eventually he peeled one hand off of your hip and wound it immediately into your hair, and then you knew you were fucked. So very fucked. And not just by the cock driving you crazy. 

Sylus yanked your hair– just a little on the side of painful– and you couldn’t help the way you fucking wailed Sylus’ name, your thighs shaking and your hips slamming back into his fast thrusts. When he pulled again, you obediently scrambled up onto your weak hands, your shoulders trembling and your stomach churning with wanton pleasure. Sylus leaned down and moaned in your ear, his grip on your hair unrelenting as he urged, “Say my name, say my name for me, come on…” 

You didn’t even have to think about it. You leaned your head back against Sylus’ shoulder and gasped his name over and over, your voice pitched high and desperate from the way his cock owned you so perfectly. Sylus’ soft sounds were driving you mad for him, eager to hear his voice again, to hear the white haired man tell you how good you were. The hand pulling at your hair made it impossible to form words, though, save for the increasingly needy cries of Sylus’ name and shaky iterations of please, please, please. 

The floor of the boxing ring creaked as Sylus pressed the two of you back down against its surface to speed up, his hips slapping against your ass so aggressively that you couldn’t help but scream for him, the pleas coming in shaking sobs. 

Even though Sylus was so thoroughly possessing you and fucking his cock straight into your cervix, something was still keeping you from getting close. It felt so good, absolutely amazing, but you couldn’t finish like this. Not when Sylus was biting his lip against his own noisy moans. Not when Sylus hadn’t said your name once this entire time. Not when Sylus had yet to look you in the eyes. 

Whining, you turned your head forward so you could look at him in the reflection of the mirror straight ahead. The muscles of his back rippled with effort as he continued pumping his hips, and his own forehead was pressed into your shoulder so he didn’t have to look at you. The change in your breathy sounds caught his attention, however, and Sylus slowed his hips to a rough grind to give the two of you a damn break. He finally lifted his dark, fucked-out gaze to yours, and proceeded to finally made eye contact with you in the mirror. Even hazy with lust, you could still pick out the hurt in Sylus’ eyes. 

You had put that there. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you whimpered and spread your fingers out against the padded floor, an unspoken invitation. After a long moment of consideration, Sylus mouthed at your sweat-slick shoulder and carefully unwound his fingers from your tangled hair to twine them together with yours. You gripped his hand tight and shivered for him, rocking back into now-gentle thrusts with a soft moan of his name. 

“I’m s-sorry,” you breathed, looking back at Sylus from over your shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sylus.” 

He stilled then, his free hand moving to tenderly brush your sweaty bangs out of your eyes. He didn’t respond yet, though, instead pulling out entirely to ease you over onto your back. 

Winding your violently trembling legs loosely around his waist, you wiggled as Sylus leaned back over you and aligned himself with your throbbing center once again. When he slid home, it was slow and easy, leaving the two of you gasping. To make things even better, Sylus reached over to grab both of your hands before lacing your fingers together again, balancing easily on his elbows so his chest was nearly flush to yours. It was so close, so damn intimate, and so much better than you deserved that you couldn’t even begin to hope for anything more. 

Sylus was so kind, though. He was thoughtful and courteous and so damn sweet, and he nudged your nose with his own before he finally kissed you again, thank god. You whimpered pitifully, squeezing his hands while he slid his tongue easily between your lips, deepening the kiss and drawing a keening moan from your sore throat. 

This time, Sylus’ thrusts were steady and slow, following an even tempo that left you sputtering against his lips. 

It was a world apart from earlier. Before, Sylus had been fucking you, marking you like you were his territory, holding back even as he let loose some wild, animalistic part of himself brought on by you pushing him away. 

Now, by some grace from god or by virtue of Sylus’ incredible capacity for dealing with your shit, it was like he was making love to you, his cock continuing to fill you up so good but just slow enough that you had time to understand how amazing he made you feel. Sort of. As much as you could understand when you were whispering Sylus’ name against his lips, your voice still rough from screaming and hitching audibly when he thrusted into you. 

You swallowed thickly to coat your dry throat, then opened your eyes to stare up at him again. 

Sylus had pulled back enough that he could see the faces you were making perfectly, how flushed your cheeks were, and how watery your eyes were. Being watched so intimately caused you to flush darker, and you closed your eyes again and arched your back with a broken groan when Sylus’ cock slid over your sweet spot once again. 

“Sylus,” you moaned, sliding your thighs further up his sides and spreading them wider. “Sylus, you’re so good…”

You felt as Sylus bumped your noses together again, squeezing your hands with a contented sigh. You were more than okay with the pace things were moving at, especially once your lover brushed his lips against your cheeks so incredibly tenderly and thrust deeper into you. Spine rounding again, you let loose a shuddering gasp before your mouth fell open with an airy whisper of Sylus’ name. 

“You look so good like this,” Sylus purred, the sound of his voice sending you reeling once again. It was beyond unfair how Sylus had you wrapped around his finger. You instinctively tightened around his cock, and the lecherous moan the action pulled from him made your stomach flip. He chuckled softly shortly thereafter and squeezed your hands again, “So pretty, you know that, kitten? And you take me so well, with the prettiest little noises. God, the noises you make…” 

You were losing your fucking mind. You rolled your head to the side with a bitten-back whimper, your body rocking perfectly into Sylus’ thrusts. There was no way you could have known that the way Sylus whispered to you would set you so on edge, but you had missed it so badly in the seemingly endless period of time you’d had to go without it. Sylus’ praises made you so hot, so damn brainless that you didn’t know what to do with yourself, and the bastard knew it. When Sylus sped up, you were still helpless– still unable to do anything other than gasp your lover’s name into the humid air between you both. 

Even as he smiled down at you and chuckled at the way you fell apart, Sylus’ own voice was growing breathier, his moans louder. Apparently you weren’t the only one so deeply affected. 

“I can feel you getting close, kitten,” Sylus moaned against you, his hips moving in deep, quick thrusts that filled you up easily. You licked your lips and cracked open your bleary eyes to watch as Sylus’ brows pinched together in response to your walls clamping down on his cock harder. With a stammered moan of your name, Sylus’ head drooped between his shoulders as he murmured, “You feel incredible. You’re so good for me.” 

That was what you needed more than anything. Sylus moaning your name while his thrusts picked up with more force, his teeth worrying his lip as he fought against his bone-deep urge to finish. Your name spoken by Sylus would forever be your favorite sound, and hearing it now was driving you straight to the edge and building your orgasm up quickly in your gut. Your moans spiked into breathy cries, your muscles tensing and twitching in earnest. Unable to stop yourself, you started to beg, “S-Sylus, Sylus, I’m almost– I’m– please, Sylus–”

Sylus obliged your senseless word babble. He untangled your fingers from his so he could sit up on his heels, looping his arms under your back to bring you with him. With you balanced easily in his lap, Sylus kept one arm around your midsection while the other came to grip your hip before he started thrusting again, his cock angling up and hitting you so deep and so perfect that you were certain you were seeing stars. Your hands flew frantically to Sylus’ toned shoulders, your nails digging in for purchase as that telltale sensation in the pit of your stomach grew stronger and more potent. 

Once Sylus breathed your name again, his voice trailing off into a raspy, rumbling moan, it was more than enough to carry you over the edge. 

Your breasts pressed into Sylus’ chest as your spine arched, your climax crashing over you violently and rendering your brain useless. Sylus groaned long and loud as you clenched impossibly further around his cock, and as you clung desperately to him and buried your face into the crook of his neck, he managed to thrust once, then twice, before he came with a shuddering groan. 

Sylus curled around you possessively and ground against you mindlessly, his large hands gripping you so tightly that you were certain they would leave bruises in their wake. He continued to mumble your name breathlessly into your ear as the two of you came down together, and eventually you were able to think through the pleasured fog that still tinged your vision. 

You continued to breathe heavily, your limbs shaking and twitching as you clenched your eyes shut and continued to hide your looming shame in the crook of Sylus’ neck. The only thing that pulled you out of your makeshift cocoon was the feeling of the larger man’s lips pressing against the top of your head, and you jolted almost violently at the attention. 

“Damn, sweetie,” Sylus said roughly, his hand trailing up your bare back to hold the nape of your neck. “You’re still shaking an awful lot. Are you alright?” 

You were silent for a long time, trying and failing to get your breathing under control again while Sylus simply cradled you. There was nothing you wanted more than to keep holding him, to keep him from leaving you and walking away, but as the dust settled around the two of you, you remembered how bad you had actually fucked up. So you waited for Sylus to release you, to stop mumbling sweet nothings into the top of your head, to banish you from his home entirely and send you back to Linkon City. 

But he didn’t do any of those things. He surprised you by lowering his own head so it was right beside yours, using his chin to gently nudge you out of your hiding spot in his shoulder so he could look at you. “I’m going to need an answer, sweetie, because I’m becoming increasingly worried that I hurt you.” 

“I’m sorry, Sylus,” you mumbled, avoiding meeting his gaze in favor of directing your words to his chest. Your voice was meek and pitiful, and your lower lip trembled as you tried and failed to fight the influx of tears that welled in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

At first, Sylus was quiet. You felt his arms slide away from your back, and for a split second you were convinced that he was going to shove you away and end things with you then and there. But then his hands reappeared between the two of you, tentatively cupping your jaw to angle your face up at him. He looked at you curiously, sweeping his thumb under your eyes to catch the stray tears that slipped down your cheeks. His voice was calm and gentle when he finally asked, “What exactly are you apologizing for?” 

“For lying to you. For saying those hurtful things. I know I was overwhelmed by Caleb just… showing up the way he did, but that was no excuse for being so cruel to you.” You swallowed, your brow furrowing as you stared up at the literal love of your life and became overtaken by a fresh dose of remorse. “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want Caleb. I don’t want you to think that you’ve been some replacement for him this entire time because I never had feelings like that for him. I should have been honest from the jump instead of getting so defensive. I’m really, really sorry, Sylus.” 

Sylus seemed to mull your confession over– always so careful about picking his words. It was a trait that you could certainly stand to learn from, if only you could manage to stop talking out of your ass for five seconds. 

“I didn’t exactly broach the subject with you delicately,” he admonished with a grimace. “I didn’t stop to consider that your childhood friend was back from the dead. I just assumed the worst and jumped head first into the conversation with that thought driving me. So for that, I’m sorry.” 

A watery smile stretched across your face, and you wrapped your arms around Sylus’ waist with your ear pressed against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat soothing your previously frayed nerves. “So does this mean you forgive me?” 

To your mild surprise, Sylus laughed. Softly, and far from the mean-spirited kind. He returned your embrace eagerly, tracing small circles against your back with his fingers as he shook his head to himself. “There’s hardly that much to forgive. You’ve said worse things to me in the past, remember?” 

“Don’t make me beg. Just answer the question.” 

“Yes, kitten. I forgive you.” 

Sighing contentedly, you felt Sylus press a quick kiss to your forehead before holding you tighter to him, then he rose swiftly and easily, not at all slowed down by hoisting you up along with him. You yelped a little in alarm and wrapped your legs around his waist, entirely at his mercy as he somehow managed to duck under the ropes of the boxing ring with you coiled around him like a baby monkey. “Where are we going?” 

“To shower. I have every intention of making the most of your apologetic mood. And I think I might like to see you beg a little.” 

You sat upright in his firm hold, placing your hand on his chest to put a modicum of space between the two of you. “But you said you forgave me! What about Luke and Kieran?! Your room is on the other side of the house– Sylus, we’re naked!” 

Undeterred, Sylus flashed you his trademark smirk– the one that never failed to lower your inhibitions. “Oh, I forgive you. But since I have heard worse things from you before, the way I see it is you can go ahead and earn some more forgiveness while you’re at it.” 

Anxious beyond belief at the prospect of the twins seeing you in the nude, you shoved at Sylus more and scrambled to get out of his hold. He was having none of it, however, and swiftly readjusted his grip so he could toss you over his shoulder, your rear on full display in the event anyone crossed paths with the two of you. When you frantically started kicking your legs and hitting his back, he returned the motion with a playful slap to your ass that pulled a loud yelp from your lips. 

You loved the man with all your heart. You truly couldn’t fathom yourself ever leaving him, nor could you imagine your life without him. He brought a certain excitement to your otherwise dull day-to-day that you treasured and valued endlessly. 

But be that as it may, you were so, so going to kill him for this. 

[crowliphale]

Taking note of moments in time

[reegis]

✨mechanisms character designs!!✨

lyf gets to be blue because i said so

who else should i draw!!!!

[esouliie]

guys i’ve fallen down such a big once upon a time hole. i’m obsessed with regina mills and zelena and emma swan, how weren’t these women gay in the show?!

[scrawnyghstts]

do any of you ever lay awake at night thinking about how Kremy gifted Gideon a comb even though, obviously, lizardfolk don't have any hair.

because that means that Kremy went out of his way to get Gid this gift. A comb isn't just something an alligator would have or just collect somewhere to have it for later, Kremy likely never needed or thought of having anything of the sort.

But Kremy noticed how roughed up Gideon was, how he didn't have anything on him to take care of himself and Kremy came up with the idea and then spent time and possibly money (or he just swiped it but still) to find a nice comb just for Gideon and then gave it to him.

Nikkie described it so beautifully that it was the first time someone saw Gideom as his own man and that also makes my heart ache so much. But I just can't stop thinking about how freaking Kremy Lecroux, went out of his way, to get a thing he likely never even thought of getting, just to give it to his partner (in crime). Like yeah sure we can talk about how Kremy wouldn't want to travel with someone unkept but I don't think it's that. He'd get Gideom a bath and a haircut or something at an inn and done, issue solved. But no, Kremy specifically wanted to get a thing for Gideon, he wanted him to have something that's just for him, something to help him get his sense of self back, his looks and help him find his confidence.

It was thoughtful gift from Kremy who probably is the last person to do thoughtful gifts to just some people. But he made that gesture for Gideon.

like do you ever just lay there and think about all that and how they both must have felt almost an instant bond forming between them, doesn't matter if it's platonic or romantic, like do you just-- yeah.

[ricky-mortis]

Curtwen Week Day 6: Happy Ending

[goblinontour]

Dublin In Ecstasy

you meet him in a pub…you end up painted by him

series masterlist

warnings: dom!al, smut, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, semi-public, piv, spanking (a bit), the word ‘daddy’ (once), alcohol, weed, blood, drool

word count: 5k

Dublin, 2018

The Dublin air was thick with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses as you stepped into the pub. It was the third one of the night, and already it felt like the right place to be. The interior was a mix of all different voices, the kind of comforting chaos that only a place like this could offer. You walked through the groups of people, each step filling you with a sense of excitement. It was nights like these that made your impromptu trip worth every penny.

Reaching the bar, you leaned in, trying to catch the bartender’s eye when a figure suddenly crashed into your peripheral vision. He almost collided with you, stopping himself just in time with his arms braced on the bar’s edge. His breath came in heavy, excited bursts, clearly having indulged in what a night like this had to offer. He ordered a round of drinks in a voice that cut through the noise, confident and commanding. Your eyes widened slightly as you took him in.

He was dressed pretty simple, but he didn’t need any more than that. A tight shirt, unbuttoned scandalously low, revealing glimpses of a chiselled chest. A black leather jacket hung casually over his shoulders, and his tight-fitting pants left little to the imagination. But it was his face that truly captivated you. The buzzcut he sported highlighted his sharp features, his cheekbones catching the dim, ambient light. A slight sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, giving him an effortless perfection. He was hot. Really hot.

You couldn't help but stare, your gaze tracing the angles of his face, the curve of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes as he surveyed the crowd, completely oblivious to your presence. It felt like time had slowed, every detail of his face imprinting itself in your mind.

Eventually, he glanced over, catching you in the act, red-handed. There was no denying as to what you were doing. A smirk played on his lips, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked, his voice smooth and laced with slight amusement.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks but met his gaze steadily. “Just admiring the scenery.” you replied, matching his playful challenge.

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that seemed to resonate through the chaos around you. “Alex.” he introduced himself, extending a hand.

You took it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. “Nice to meet you, Alex.”

“Sooo…” he started, his voice turning like a singsong, clearly enjoying the state of his intoxication at the moment, “What brings you to Dublin?”

“Exploring, meeting new people, trying out all the different pubs…getting drunk.” you said with a shrug. “And you?”

“Same.” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Though I suppose I’m a bit more familiar with the scene.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Is that so? Any recommendations?”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke over the din of the pub. “Stick with me, and I’ll make sure you have a great night.”

The night was young, he was hot, and the promise in his words was just too tempting to resist. You nodded, a smile playing on your lips. “Lead the way, Alex.”

With a nod, he grabbed the tray of drinks he had ordered and gestured for you to follow. You wove through the crowd, following the leather-clad figure like a beacon. He led you to a booth crowded with people, all of whom greeted him enthusiastically. Him or the drinks. Probably the drinks. But it was clear he was well-known and well-liked here. He introduced you to his friends, who welcomed you warmly, their laughter infectious.

For a while, you simply enjoyed the company, the drinks, and the easy banter that flowed around the table. Alex, ever the charmer, kept the conversation lively, his sharp wit and roguish smile captivating not just you, but everyone in the group. It wasn’t long before one of the guys showed up with a whole bottle of champagne.

“It’s time to celebrate, come on!” Alex declared, grabbing you up with him from the booth and snatching the bottle from the hand extended towards him.

“What are we celebrating?” you asked, laughing as you stumbled along with him. But he didn't bother giving any more details, and you didn't care to ask.

He led you to a slightly clearer spot near the edge of the room, his grip firm and confident. With a flourish, he began to open the champagne, the cork popping free with a satisfying sound. He held the bottle at the level of his groin, the fizzing liquid bubbling out. The sight of him there, hands positioned just so, made your mind wander. You couldn't help but imagine him right in that position, his hands in the same place but while coming all over your face.

You must have given away your thoughts, because Alex's eyes flickered with a knowing glint. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear, and whispered, “I’ll do just that as soon as we’re alone.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. Oh, you knew you were in for more than just a good night.

After a little while, he suggested moving to another pub, and you found yourself agreeing without hesitation.

The streets of Dublin were alive with energy as you moved alongside him, each stop offering a new flavour of the city's vibrant nightlife. Alex’s presence was magnetic. He knew all the best places, all the hidden gems that you never would have found on your own.

At the particularly cosy pub you settled on, with dim lighting and just the right music playing in the background, you found yourselves sitting close, his arm draped over the back of your chair. The conversation turned slightly more personal, but he didn’t give away too much. Maybe that’s what made him so appealing in this moment.

“You’re quite the enigma yourself, you know.” Alex said, his eyes never leaving yours. “What made you decide to come here all alone?”

You smiled, taking a sip of your drink. “I wanted an adventure. Sometimes you just have to step out of your comfort zone, right?”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I get that. I’ve spent most of my life chasing that feeling. It’s what keeps things interesting.”

“And does it work?” you asked, genuinely curious.

He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours. “Meeting you certainly has.”

The words hung in the air between you, charged with the knowing thoughts that something more would eventually happen. You both knew it from the first moment you laid eyes on each other. The night was winding down, but you felt like it was just beginning. With a daring smile, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, and kissed him. Maybe it was a bold move, but the way he responded, his lips meeting yours with equal fervour, told you it was just right.

You could feel him smile into the kiss, the curve of his lips pressing warmly against yours. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you off your barstool and guiding you to stand between his spread thighs. His grip was firm, possessive, his fingers digging slightly into your hips.

He broke the kiss before it could get any deeper, his breath hot against your lips. “I think I’m gonna head back to my hotel.” he said, his voice low and rough. And so fucking sexy.

Confusion flickered in your eyes as he got off the stool and shrugged on his leather jacket, the piece settling perfectly over his broad shoulders. He took a step back, leaving you standing there, feeling the chill of his absence. But before you could question it, he reached out, his hand finding the small of your back. “You’re coming too.” he continued, his eyes locking onto yours with a promise that sent a shiver down your spine.

His hand on your back, almost too low, guided you through the pub and out into the cool night air. The pressure of his palm was tantalising, teasing, and you found yourself wishing it would slide just a little lower.

The walk to his hotel went by in a blur. Alex kept making teasing comments and giving you compliments that would have been way too forward from anyone else, but he pulled it off effortlessly. His confidence was intoxicating, each word making you smile and blush, adding to the excitement flowing through your veins. His hand stayed on your back, his fingers occasionally brushing against your skin, peeking between your top and skirt.

In the elevator, the atmosphere grew even more charged. Alex turned to you and, before you could react, he pinned you between his arms. The sound of his hands hitting the mirror on either side of you made you gasp, and then his lips were on yours, hot and demanding. The kiss was hungry, his tongue exploring your mouth with an eagerness that left you breathless. Your hands instinctively reached up, clutching at his shoulders, feeling the strength beneath his leather jacket. When he finally pulled away, you were left panting, your heart pounding as the elevator doors opened with a soft chime.

The room he led you into was huge and absolutely gorgeous, with panoramic windows lining the whole back wall, offering a breathtaking view of the city. The lights of Dublin spread out before you, mixing with the dazzling array of stars in the sky. It felt surreal, like stepping into a dream.

Alex walked over to the sofa in the sitting room area and sat down, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I wanna smoke, love, do you mind?”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t mind.”

He asked again, waving a joint in the air so you could see it. “You sure?”

“Go ahead.” you replied, your voice soft but certain.

For a few moments, you stood by the window, taking in the stunning view. The city lights cast a soft, ambient glow into the room, but soon, your attention shifted back to him, the real view you wanted to admire. Alex took off his jacket and threw it over the back of the sofa, the movement making his muscles flex. He stretched his arms up, showing just how big and defined they were, the motion pulling his shirt tighter against his chest and highlighting every contour of his physique.

The sight of him turned you on more and more with each passing second. He bent forward to grab the ashtray and brought it closer, his movements fluid. He grabbed his lighter and lit the joint, taking a long drag and inhaling deeply. He leaned back on the seat, throwing his head back over the edge as he exhaled the smoke into the room. The tendrils of smoke curled in the air, the scent mixing with the faint cologne he wore, a heady combination that made your pulse quicken.

“Come sit.” he told you, not even looking at you, just calling you over with an air of command.

You moved to sit next to him, but he tsked softly, shaking his head. With a gentle but firm touch, he guided you to sit on your knees in front of him, right in between his legs. You followed his lead, his forwardness. His eyes roamed over you, dark and precise, like he was trying to decide what he was going to do to you. He took another drag of the joint, his gaze never leaving yours, and you could feel the heat of his attention as it travelled over your body.

As he leaned forward, his free hand cupped your chin, tilting your head up slightly. “You look incredible down there.” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, and you instinctively parted your lips and welcomed it in your mouth.

He exhaled another plume of smoke, the scent intoxicating, before setting the joint aside for a moment. His hands moved to your shoulders, squeezing gently before sliding down your arms, leaving a trail of warmth and goosebumps in their wake.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice soft but commanding, “How far out of your comfort zone are you willing to go tonight?”

Your answer was a breathless whisper, your eyes locked on his. “As far as you want to take me.”

His smile widened, an almost predatory glint in his eyes. “Good.” he said, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you closer until you were pressed against him. “I’ll make sure your night is unforgettable.”

With that, he leaned in, capturing your lips once more in a kiss that was both possessive and tender. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a blazing path in their wake. He bit at your flesh, each nip sending waves of arousal coursing through you. His hands roamed your body, groping and squeezing in just the right places, his touch both possessive and teasing.

He pulled away for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and tugged at the tied straps holding your top up. The material loosened and slid down, exposing your bare chest to him. His gaze filled with desire as he took in the sight of you, his hands moving to cup your breasts.

His touch was firm, kneading your breasts in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. You could feel him getting hard beneath you, his bulge pressing insistently against you through his pants and your underwear.

With a wicked smile, he took one of your nipples between his fingers and twisted it harshly, making you gasp at the sudden intense sensation. The pain was sharp but quickly dissolved into pleasure, your body arching into his touch.

Then he slapped your both breasts from underneath, making them bounce, the motion drawing a low moan from your lips. He watched your reaction with a satisfied smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. His hands guided you back down onto your knees before him, his gaze never leaving yours.

“You know what to do.” he murmured, his voice a sort of command. His hand moved to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. “Let’s see what can get me higher.” he said as he grabbed the joint, lighting the end of it again.

You reached up to undo his pants, your fingers deftly working the button and zipper. Alex slumped lower onto the sofa, his body relaxing, a cloud of smoke curling around his head as he took another drag. You pulled his pants down, and he helped get them lower by raising his hips, allowing you to slip them down to his ankles. The sight of him sprawled out, so confident and at ease, made your heart race.

With a slow, deliberate motion, you unbuttoned the last couple of buttons holding his shirt together and pushed it to either side, exposing his entire chest. His body was a work of art, lean and muscular, each contour highlighted by the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the windows. His abdomen was taut, the muscles rippling slightly as he breathed. There was a slight patch of hair in the middle of his chest, a detail that had driven you crazy ever since you noticed it back at the first pub.

Your eyes travelled lower, taking in the clear shape of his cock through his boxers. He was hard, the outline of his length straining against the material, the sight of it making your mouth water. You reached out, running your fingers along the bulge, feeling the heat and hardness beneath the fabric.

Alex exhaled another plume of smoke, his head leaning back against the sofa, eyes half-closed in anticipation. His body was the perfect picture sensuality in that moment, everything defined and perfectly proportioned. His chest heaved slightly with each breath, and you could see the slight sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, adding to the raw allure of him.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, now heavy-lidded and filled with lust. “Don’t keep me waiting, love.” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

With trembling hands, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulled them down, freeing his cock. It sprang free, hard and throbbing, the sight of it making your breath catch. You looked back up at him, your eyes meeting his, and he gave you a slow, wicked smile.

“Good girl.” he said, his voice a soft purr. “Give me your best.”

You pulled your legs together, seeking some relief from the ache building between them as his words drove you crazy. He noticed, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he continued to smoke, letting you get to work.

Your hands wrapped around his cock, feeling the weight of it in your palms as you began to stroke him. With a gentle tug, you pulled down on his foreskin, revealing the pinkish head, and leaned in to lick right at the slit, savouring the taste of the beads of precum leaking from it.

Taking him deeper into your mouth, you worked your tongue around the tip, circling it while your hands continued to stroke the rest. You kept a slow pace, building the tension and relishing the low groans of pleasure escaping from him.

After a while, you pulled off to spit on his cock, the sight earning a satisfied “Mhmm” from him.

A thought came back to your mind, so you decided to go ahead and ask. “What were you celebrating back there?”

He took a moment to reply, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as your hands still stroked his dick. “That I broke up with my bitch ex-girlfriend.”

Oh. “So, am I your rebound, then?” you asked, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

“Nah. I just thought you looked like a good fuck…no offence.”

You didn’t mind that. Not at all. His blunt honesty only fueled you. You continued licking at him, your eyes locked onto his, the connection between you intensifying. He watched you, the hunger in his gaze making your heart race even faster.

“Want some?” he asked, waving the joint towards you.

You didn’t say anything, letting him guide you. He grabbed your chin, holding your face right where he wanted it, and turned the stick to you, placing it between your lips so you could take a drag. You enjoyed the taste and the sensation as you inhaled, but before you could exhale, he pulled you back onto his cock, shoving it inside your mouth. The smoke escaped through your nostrils and swirled around his shaft, creating a heady, intoxicating mix of sensations.

His grip tightened in your hair, guiding your movements as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each stroke. The smoky haze around you added to the surreal intensity, heightening every touch and taste. Alex’s groans grew louder, his pleasure evident in every sound he made, encouraging you to keep going, to give him everything you had.

You felt his hips start to move, thrusting gently into your mouth, his control slipping as he got lost in the sensation. His hand tightened in your hair, holding you in place as he pushed deeper, his cock filling your mouth completely. You could feel his pulse, strong and insistent, matching the racing beat of your own heart.

Each time he pulled back, you could see the pleasure etched on his face, his eyes dark and focused on you. “That’s enough.” he murmured, his voice rough with need. With a firm grip, he picked you up, your legs on either side of his thighs as he sat you down in his lap. His hands were everywhere, pulling your skirt up over your ass and running his hands all over your exposed skin.

He hooked his fingers around the edge of your panties, pulling them to the side. His fingers trailed between your lips, teasing you with light touches before shoving them inside roughly. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, the sound of your juices flowing around his fingers echoing in the quiet room. “Wet,” he said with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, “Perfect.”

Alex removed his fingers completely, lifting you closer to his chest. Your breath hitched as he positioned his cock at your entrance, the head pressing insistently against you. He gave your ass a sharp slap, the sting sending a jolt of pleasure through you, and then another, each one making you tremble with anticipation.

With a single, powerful thrust, he drove himself inside you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that made your head spin. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the fullness, his breath hot against your neck.

“Ride.” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper against your ear.

You began to move, at first grinding against him, savouring the way he filled you so deeply. The sensation of him inside you, so hard and thick, sent shivers of pleasure through your body. You could feel every vein on his cock rubbing against your inner walls, each movement delicious and intoxicating. His eyes were locked on you, watching you ride him slowly, too slowly for his patience.

His hands moved to your hips, gripping you tightly. “Fuck, you feel so good.” he groaned, his voice strained with need. He began to thrust up into you, hard and fast, each stroke sending shockwaves through you. The intensity built with every movement, his rhythm relentless and demanding.

Your body responded eagerly, your hips rolling to meet his thrusts, the friction igniting a fire within you. Your tits bounced against his chest, your nipples brushing against his skin with every rhythmic movement. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and his grunts, a mix of raw desire and need.

He was fucking you so hard, his movements almost punishing in their intensity. You kissed him messily, your mouths colliding in a wet, hungry kiss. In the desperation of it, you accidentally bit down on his tongue, not too hard, but enough to draw blood. He didn’t care, the pleasure far outweighing the pain. The metallic taste of his blood mixed with your saliva, a strange but perfect sensation in the heat of the moment.

He groaned into your mouth, the blood and spit mingling and running down both of your faces. His hands tightened on your hips, driving you down onto his cock with even more force, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

Your mind was hazy, lost in the overwhelming sensations and the primal connection between you.

“Fuck, Alex.” you moaned, your voice breathless and needy.

“Come for me.” he growled, his thrusts becoming even more urgent. “I want to feel you come all over my cock, can you do that?”

You nodded, your breath coming in ragged gasps, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. His words sent you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you. Your body convulsed around him, your cries of pleasure echoing in the room.

“Fuck.” he groaned, but his thrusts didn’t stop. He only slowed the tiniest bit as he got up with you in his arms, his cock still inside you. He stepped out of the trousers pooling at his feet and started walking with you to those huge windows lining the room.

He let you down there, and you couldn’t even stay up on your feet, nearly collapsing as your knees went weak and wobbly. He caught you just in time, his strong arms the only thing keeping you upright.

“Fucking- just turn around and fucking stand up.” he growled, pushing you against the window, your breasts sticking to the cold glass.

The sensation of being so exposed was thrilling. Even though you were high enough that almost no one could see you, there was still that chance. What if someone in a nearby hotel happened to look out at that moment and spotted you?

“Admiring the scenery?” he asked, shoving his dick back inside your cunt and fucking you from behind.

You just nodded, overwhelmed by his speed, your walls growing sore from all the friction. The pressure was intense, a blend of pain and pleasure that kept you on the edge.

He grabbed you by the hair, pulling harshly and making you look up at him as he looked down at you. “Hmm?” he continued.

“Yeah, I love this view.” you managed to gasp out, the words tumbling from your lips.

His eyes darkened with lust, a smirk playing on his lips. “Good.” he murmured, his thrusts never faltering. “Because I plan on fucking you until neither of us can stand.”

The intensity of his words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his movements, sent you spiralling into another wave of pleasure. The cold glass against your chest, the roughness of his grip in your hair, the fullness of his cock inside you. Fuck. All of it melded together and left you breathless.

With each thrust, you could feel him hitting deeper, the angle perfect and unforgiving. His breath was hot against your ear as he growled, “Come for me again, love. You’ve been so good.”

And you did, your body shuddering as another orgasm ripped through you. Your moans filled the room, mingling with his grunts of pleasure. The thrill of being so exposed, the idea that someone might see you in such a raw, vulnerable state, heightened the experience. Alex didn’t stop, his pace relentless, driving him towards his own orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” he groaned. His thrusts grew more erratic, his control slipping. Each powerful movement sent a sweet, sharp pain through you that left you gasping. “You like that, don’t you?” he growled, his voice a low, dirty whisper. “You like being fucked like this, don’t you?”

“Yes.” you moaned, the word escaping your lips without thought. “Yes, I love it.”

“Fucking slut.” he hissed, his hand sliding from your hair to grip your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse race. “Let’s make that little dream of yours from earlier come true then, hmm?”

You knew exactly what he meant, and you couldn’t wait. His words, his touch, the relentless drive of his cock inside you. It was all too much. You could feel another orgasm building already, the intensity of it almost frightening. Alex sensed it too, his movements becoming even more purposeful, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you that made you see stars.

“I’m so good to you, aren’t I?” he urged, his grip on your throat tightening slightly. “It’s your turn to make me come, don’t ruin it.”

The command in his voice pushed you over the edge. You came hard, your body convulsing around him, your screams muffled against the glass. Alex didn’t stop, riding out your orgasm, his own release imminent.

As he felt himself getting close to the edge he whispered in your ear. “Daddy’s gonna give you a big reward now.”

He pulled out abruptly, leaving you gasping at the sudden emptiness. He quickly turned you around and pushed you down onto your knees, his grip firm. The urgency in his movements made your heart race with anticipation. You looked up at him, your eyes wide and filled with desire, your tongue out, begging like the obedient whore you were for him in this moment.

The sight of you, so eager and ready, pushed him over the brink. He stroked his cock furiously, his eyes locked onto yours, watching as you waited so prettily for his cum. His breaths came in harsh pants, his muscles tensing as he neared his orgasm.

With a deep, guttural groan, Alex came, his release hitting your face in hot, thick spurts. He grounded himself by extending an arm to the window behind you, his muscles taut and straining as he let go completely, his pleasure evident in every tremor of his body. The sheer intensity of his orgasm left him momentarily breathless, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched his cum paint your skin.

You could feel the warmth of his cum dripping down your cheeks and chin, the scent and taste of him overwhelming your senses. It was filthy and raw, and you loved every second of it. His groans of satisfaction echoed around you, mingling with your own soft moans as you revelled in the feeling of being claimed so completely.

Alex's breathing gradually slowed, and he finally let go of the window, his body relaxing as he came down from his high. He looked at you, a satisfied, possessive glint in his eyes as he took in the sight of you, covered in his cum and looking utterly wrecked.

“Fuck, you look perfect like that.” he murmured, his voice still rough and breathy. He reached down, his fingers brushing gently over your cum-streaked cheek, smearing it further. “Such a good girl.”

You smiled up at him, the thrill of his praise sending a fresh wave of warmth through you. “Thank you.”

He helped you to your feet, pulling you close for a tender, lingering kiss. The contrast between the roughness of moments before and the softness of his kiss now made your head spin.

“Can I clean up?” you asked softly, your voice still a bit shaky.

Alex smirked, a playful glint in his eyes. “Not yet.” he replied, his tone teasing. “I like seeing you like this. Just a little longer.”

You laughed softly, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and confidence. “Okay.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands cupping your face gently. “It’s no use anyway,” he said, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes, “Because I'm not done with you yet.”

a/n: i wrote another fic that could be considered a sequel to this, ‘Daddy Came Home’

based on this request

special mention to @thenightslikeawhirlwind for suggesting bald!al for this <3

tags: @4chaos @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @ohladymoon @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @feyasgotgroove @aacheinthejaw @hellcatshalalalaa @zayndrider @humbuginmybones

[addie-henderson]

I know this fandom is probably dead so this will flop but:

Henry Mills with a partner who also calls him "Charming" meeting his family and the whole gang is confused.

meeting Henry's family was admittedly a daunting task. of course they were town heroes so you met them all before but never all at once and never in the context of you dating one of the youngest members of the family.

"so what is it you do exactly?" a perfectly shaped eyebrows raises at you from the head of the table, Regina Mills seems to share directly into your soul as if analyzing you for any small chance that you have intentions of hurting her family.

"oh well... I didn't really do anything in the enchanted Forest. at least nothing of note I was a circus performer with my parents before the ... curse." you purse your lips unsure if mentioning the curse was the right move.

"but when I came over I wasn't assigned a job obviously I was still just a kid so I went to school and now that we've finished that." the silent now that the curse was broken now that time was moving part of your statement left unsaid. "I've begun teaching at the daycare preschool room. I like the children."

Mary Margaret's face lights up as the knowledge that another teacher had 'joined the family' you listen and respond to her eager questions about teaching children so young twirling pasta around on your fork to appear busy and like you weren't ignoring the meal in front of you. eventually she grew tired and the subject changed and now able to catch your breath you smile. "Charming, can you pass the salt?" you don't notice Emma give you a weird look. and you don't notice the way that Regina's eyes widen when Henry's hand reaches for the salt shaker at the same time as his grandfather.

"Charming?" Snow echoes.

"Henry." you specify. At that Snow grins and David lets out a hearty laugh. somewhere from the table there's a mutter of "oh god they're multiplying" (spoken from zelena.)

I glanced at Henry for clarification. "my grandma calls Grandpa, Charming. he's kind of THE prince charming."

"oh!"

[regulusrules]

characters who would rock the earth from its core if they met

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlights cuddling for comfort, but also they're oblivious idiots who are pining over each other but thinks its unrequited

“Ugh,” Duke says, dropping down onto the bench besides Danny.

Danny nudges him with his shoulder. “Rough night?”

“Slept for like an hour,” Duke mutters, “This sucks. My head’s going to burst like balloon and my eyes are about to fall out.”

“Yikes. You know, you could have just canceled for today. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Duke sighs and presses the heel of his palms against his eyes. “Maybe, but I would have minded. We barely see each other anymore, man. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh.” Danny bites his lip, trying and failing to stop from smiling. Something soft in his chest glows at the words, a growing spark of happiness in knowing that for this, at least, the feeling is requited. It’s nice to hear that he was missed, and it would be even nicer if Duke wasn’t in pain, pushing himself just because he didn’t want to cancel. Carefully, Danny reaches for him and pulls his hands away from his face. “Here,” he says, “Let me.”

His hands are always cold. Most of him is cold, really — side effect of having an ice core. Sam told him once that his hands were better than an ice pack, and he’s hoping she’s right or this is going to be weird. 

Danny gently presses his fingers against Duke’s temples, his hands cradling Duke’s face. Duke is tense for a few seconds, then abruptly relaxes, leaning into Danny’s hands. 

“Is this helping?” he asks, voice hushed to keep from aggravating Duke’s migraine.

“Mhm. Yeah, it feels great. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke goes completely limp, leaning against Danny. They sit there for a minute in silence, the rest of the world feeling far away. As nice as it is to just exist together, he knows what Duke needs most right now is quiet and stillness. Gotham is very much not that, and every honking car that passes by makes Duke wince, trying to turn away from the road even more.

“Hey, let’s head back to my place. It’s close by, and a lot quieter than out here.”

“Are you sure? I know we planned to go to the arcade today…”

“The arcade can wait. You’re more important.”

Duke blinks open his eyes and looks at Danny with something soft in his gaze. Being so close together, barely any space between them, with Duke looking at him like that makes Danny’s cheeks flush red, unable to think anything but please kiss me.

Which is never going to happen. Duke is his friend, and just his friend, no matter how much Danny wishes they could be something more. It’s a pipe dream, something so impossible it’s almost laughable. 

Duke likes being friends with normal human Danny. He doesn’t want to imagine how he would react if he found out about Danny being half ghost, assuming this imaginary reveal happens without Danny being hunted down and cut open by GIW agents. 

He’s still in hiding, always waiting for the worst as he stays in the apartment his friends (living and dead) had set up for him. The building is for ghosts so it technically doesn’t exists, which means it’s the safest place for Danny while he’s actively being hunted by the US government. 

He can’t be honest with Duke. Can’t be as close to him as he wants to be. Duke deserves more than to be dragged into Danny’s problems and put in danger.

Even so, Danny can’t help but want him around, pushing his luck each time they hang out.

“Come on,” Danny urges, standing up. He pulls his hands away and Duke’s brow immediately furrows, his pain returning. “It’s only a few streets away.”

Duke sighs, then visibly braces himself before he stands up. Danny tucks himself into Duke’s side, taking as much of his weight as he can as he walks them down the street. It’s times like these that he wishes he could reveal his powers safely and just fly them to his apartment. But even without the GIW gunning for his head, showing off powers in Gotham is a sure fire way to get a target painted on his back.

“Almost there,” he says as they turn a corner. 

His apartment doesn’t have a fixed address. It doesn’t have a fixed location at all, drifting around, but it likes this street the most, so this is where it usually is. Danny takes them halfway down the street, then turns into an alley, following his ghost sense. 

Where there’s usually a dead end is instead a building, looking as if it’s always been tucked away in this alley. Danny keeps a tight grip on Duke as they climb the front steps, silently asking for the building to let him stay while he’s with Danny. The door opens easily, which is as good as an agreement, and they’re inside without anything going wrong. The small entrance lobby is empty, with an area for packages filled with clearly magical artifacts carelessly wrapped in bubble wrap. 

Danny drags them past that quickly, hoping Duke doesn’t notice, and calls the elevator down. It arrives silently, the doors opening to let another tenant out. Carefully, Danny positions himself in front of Duke, making sure he doesn’t see how the tenant, who nods at Danny, has a still bleeding wound in his stomach that has him nearly split in half. 

“Alright,” he says, ushering Duke into the elevator, “Just a little ride up and then you can lay down.” He hits the button for the fourth floor and they ride up in silence, Duke dropping his head down to onto Danny’s shoulder again, wrapping his arms around his waist as he stands behind Danny. He’s glad Duke can’t see his face; there’s no doubt that he’s blushing like crazy and if that doesn’t give away his feelings, he doesn’t know what will.

Thankfully the elevator ride isn’t long. If Danny had to go for more than a minute with Duke breathing softly against his neck, his warm hands on his stomach, Danny would have collapsed into a pile of flustered goo.

He opens the door to his apartment and kicks his shoes off. Duke follows in suit, still plastered onto Danny’s back, refusing to let go. 

“Come on,” Danny says, leading him to the couch, “Sit down and I’ll grad you some water and painkillers.”

Duke nods against his shoulder, then slowly detaches himself from Danny and makes his way to the couch. He drops onto it gracelessly, pressing his face into a cushion. 

Danny winces. He must be feeling really bad. He knows how bad migraines can be with sleep deprivation, having suffered through high school with only a few hours of sleep at night, if he got to sleep at all. Frankly, it’s a testament to Duke’s strength that he lasted the entire walk to Danny’s apartment without complaint. 

He returns to the living room with a full glass of water and a bottle of Advil, setting them on the coffee table to crouch next to the couch and place a cold hand on Duke’s cheek. “Hey,” he says softly when Duke turns to look at him, “Is Advil alright? It’s all I had.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke sits up and shakes out three pills, then washes them down with water. He drains the rest of the cup quickly, then falls back against the couch with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?”

Duke immediately reaches a hand out for him.

“Um?”

“Sit next to me. I feel better when I’m next to you.”

“Oh! Alright. Bet you’re only saying that because my hands are cold.”

“You caught me,” Duke laughs, pulling Danny onto the couch. He goes easily, tucking his legs beneath himself, and places his hands on Duke’s temples again. “Man, I owe you my life.”

“I don’t think my cold hands are worth quite that much.”

Duke hums, but doesn’t say anything else, so Danny settles in and focuses on keeping his hands a little colder than normal. 

The apartment is quiet. No sound from outside can reach them, one of the few ways the building looks after its tenants. Danny and Duke fall against each other, at ease with each other. There’s no need to fill in the silence, and with Duke’s eyes closed, Danny doesn’t have to carefully shove down his feelings and act normal. He indulges in the warmth of Duke’s body pressed against his, a hand on his knee and an arm around his waist. 

He keeps his hands as steady as possible as he looks over Duke, adoring all the little details he can see; a small scar on his chin, the fullness of his lips, the way his hair falls into his face now that it’s long enough to keep in braids.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Duke murmurs, “What’s on your mind?”

You’re cute, he thinks, I feel safe with you. I want to kiss you. I wish I could be brave enough to be honest.

I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave.

“Nothing,” he says. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. I might fall asleep though.”

“That’s fine. You know I would never say no to a nap.”

“Come here, then,” Duke says, and before Danny can do anything, Duke gets a stronger grip on his waist and pulls Danny down on top of him as he falls back towards the arm rest and gets his legs on the couch.

“Duke!”

Duke laughs underneath him, and Danny can feel it roll through him. Okay! This is definitely something he’s going to think about… forever. Wow, he can feel Duke’s abs tense up as he laughs, and has he always been ripped? Unfair. Also unfairly hot. 

“Is this alright?” Duke asks, voice soft and quiet. There’s a hesitancy around his words that Danny doesn’t like hearing, and he brings his hands down to sweep his thumbs soothingly over Duke’s cheeks.

“Of course it is, man. I’d never refuse cuddles.”

“Okay. I’m gonna pass out now. Wake me in an hour?”

Danny moves his hands back up to his temples and says, “Sure. Get some rest, Duke. You really need it.”

He feels Duke relax beneath him, breaths slowing down as he begins to fall asleep. It’s peaceful and quiet and Duke is warm in a way Danny never can be with his ice core. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but curled up on the couch with Duke in the safety of an apartment that only barely exists has him drifting off in no time at all.

. . .

(Duke wakes up before Danny. Their legs are tangled together and Duke has moved during his sleep, turning so Danny is held tightly to his chest, his back to the cushions, while Duke is balancing very carefully at the edge of the couch. 

It’s been hours, and he should be heading home soon, but he stays as he is, enjoying this quiet moment for as long as he can have it. Danny is in his arms, safe and content with him, his head no longer hurts beyond a residual ache he can easily ignore, and he can admire how pretty Danny is without being worried about Danny catching his lingering stares. 

These moments are precious to him, rare as they are, and he wants nothing more than to kiss Danny once he’s awake and let his feelings be known.

But the Signal has lots of dangerous people after him, and Gnomon has started causing problems in Gotham again. So he’ll bite his tongue and keep his less platonic feelings buried under lock and key until it’s safe enough for Danny to be around him more often.

And when that time comes, he can only hope that Danny will feel the same way.

That’s all far away from the stillness of Danny’s apartment. All that matters is that he has Danny in his arms. Everything else can wait. 

For now, this is more than enough.)

[pepis-benis]

heard you know magic (how ‘bout a wand and a rabbit?)

[kurtsvonneslut]

Swanqueen au / modern day fic recs please

ask and you shall receive!!

meet me halfway by hunnyfresh is a fave for me. emma is a working class bartender and regina is a member of the new york elite. it's a great story of how they fall in love despite their vastly different lives (and cora's meddling).

someone will remember us by @starsthatburn is a university professor/student au that is so good i almost don't want to write the one i've been planning because why mess with perfection? (dw i'll probably still write mine)

down the rabbit hole by amycarey is about emma, a book store employee, and regina, a prolific but reclusive children's author. it's sweet, and just the right amount of angst and fluff.

learning how to live by 1clevergurl is one that starts a little dark, with regina fleeing abuse. if you like hurt/comfort, look no further. bonus points for cute henry!!!

goodnight, dear void by @coalitiongirl is a must if you like rom-coms and meet cutes. it's like you've got mail had smartphones and was also gay.

in time by flyoufools has regina as the single parent of 5-year-old henry, who signs up for a dance class taught by none other than one emma swan. homosexuality ensues.

absedarian has a collection called thirty worlds with 30 different aus ranging from oneshots to 20k fics that are just so fun and creative!!

i love college roommate arrangements by theregalist oh my god they were roommates......

there were a few modern aus in my original recs list too so give that a look, and as always, remember to show these creators lots of love if you like the fics!!!

[anonymous-dentist]

Or: Cellbit is on the run from a cult, and he somehow gets indebted to a god on the way. Go figure.

-

Once upon a time...

Cellbit stumbles into the tavern as wet as, well, a drowned cat.

It's warm inside- uncomfortably so. The fire is roaring in the fireplace, and there are enough people in the tavern for the place to feel like the inside of an oven. The torches on the walls cast the room orange, and shadows dance on the walls.

Still. Cellbit keeps his hood up as he makes his way to the bar. He keeps his head down even as he pulls a few copper pieces out from his coinpurse and slides them to the tavern keeper with a mumbled order of a warm glass of the cheapest wine in the building.

Thunder rolls above. Lightning strikes a tree just outside of town, he can hear the tree splitting, and he can hear the start of a fire that's quickly put out by the downpour.

Cellbit taps his foot nervously against the floor. His tail, hidden beneath his cloak, twitches slightly at every sudden noise. His ears hurt.

The man next to him at the bar wordlessly slides a crust of his bread towards him.

Cellbit shakes his head, biting back a rude wrinkle of the nose. (He isn't that spoiled, but... man, the bread looks like shit.)

The man rolls his eyes and says, "Come on, take it. You look like shit, man."

The tavern keeper puts Cellbit's wine down in front of him and moves on to the next guy down the line.

Cellbit drags the mug towards him and looks down into it; his own reflection looks back at him: tired. Visible bags under his eyes, blood still crusted slightly under his nose, a split in his lip.

He takes the bread. He doesn't bite into it, though. He sort of just taps it against the counter in beat with his anxiously-shaking leg.

"Crazy storm, though, right?" the man asks.

He picks his own mug up, lifts it to his lips, takes a long, long drink from it.

"The gods must be pissed at someone," he says into his cup.

The gods, hah.

"It's the rainy season," Cellbit mumbles. "This sort of just happens."

"Really?" the man hums.

Cellbit gives him a slight nod in response.

Conversation dies.

Cellbit's wine is just as bad as he expected it to be. As he drinks, he tries not to cough it all back up.

His shoulders tense as someone new enters the tavern- the bell above the door tinkles, and the door itself creaks like a coffin. (Cellbit's coffin, gods forbid.)

The door closes. The new person walks right past Cellbit and to a table in the tavern's far corner, out of sight and out of mind.

The man passes Cellbit another chunk of bread even though Cellbit still hasn't finished his first. Or even started it. Or even really looked at it.

"You paid for it," Cellbit huffs, taking both bread pieces and dropping them back onto the man's plate. "You eat it. I can pay for my own food, thanks."

The man holds up his hands defensively. "Okay, okay! It's fine! I'm just trying to help!"

Cellbit pulls his hood up to hide his eye roll. Right. He knows better than to trust someone 'trying to help'.

("Once upon a time," He said, "there was a prince, and there was a god.")

His wine is still shit. He drinks it, anyway, if only to try and keep the man next to him from talking to him.

No dice.

Leaning against the counter, the man swivels on his stool until he's facing Cellbit fully. He rests his head on his fist, and he looks.

Awkwardly, Cellbit stares down at the bar. If he pretends hard enough, he can see little faces in the wood. They're screaming, because of course they are.

His ears flatten against his skull as the tavern's door slams open.

"Oi!" the tavern keeper shouts. "Watch it! You get the floor wet, you're mopping it up!"

Several pairs of footsteps as a group of people enter the tavern- heels, that'll be her; boots, him; bells, them.

"Close the door," Foolish orders, sounding way more confident than he probably is.

The door closes.

Slowly, carefully, Cellbit moves one hand away from the bar. He slips it under his cloak, wrapping his fingers around the handle of his knife. (His knife, his fucking knife-)

The four of them start making their ways through the tavern. Tina and Jaiden are laughing about something, Foolish is arguing over their laughter, Leo is complaining about the smell of alcohol even though Cellbit knows she's had some before. They all have.

They stay away from the bar, thank the gods.

Still. Cellbit keeps his head down. He's switched his clothes and cloak out since escaping, and he doesn't think that any of them have actually seen his face, but...

"Weird vibes," the man next to him comments.

He chews on his bread thoughtfully, adds, "Not a fan."

"Tell me about it," Cellbit snorts. (He's sure to keep his voice down; they might not know his face, but they definitely know his voice.)

("The god was just and caring," He said, "but the prince was cruel and heartless. All he cared about was power, and what could hold more power than a god?")

Leo asks her dad to pick her up. Foolish playfully groans, but he does so, because he loves her.

"You know them?" the man asks.

Cellbit tensely shakes his head. "Nah."

"Mmm." (A moment of silence as the man chews on his bread.) "Wanna get out of here? My place is way better than this."

Cellbit chokes on his wine. He coughs so hard he lets go of his grip on his knife.

"Fuck!" he wheezes.

"Whoah, look at that guy!" Jaiden laughs. "Dude, is the wine here that bad?"

"I want juice," Leo says, not remotely answering her question.

"Great idea!" Foolish cheers. "Juice for everybody!"

And then, unfortunately, terribly, horribly, he approaches the bar- boots.

"Four cups of your finest juice, my good sir!" he declares.

Tina follows him- heels. "And some information, if that's okay."

Cellbit holds his breath. His tail stiffens. His leg stops bouncing.

The tavern keeper grunts, but he doesn't argue.

Mentally, Cellbit weighs his options. He can take Tina and Jaiden on in a fight, easy. He's beaten Foolish once or twice, but he won't be able to take him down if he has Tina supporting him. Fighting Leo is out of the question.

He can run, but he's already so tired. (He thought he had run far enough in one day, but apparently not. Apparently, He sent a bunch of fucking athletes after him.)

"We're looking for a guy," Tina explains. "Tall, cat ears, probably super ugly. Real bad vibes, like a serial killer on crack."

Okay, ouch.

The man snorts; Cellbit fights the urge to kick him.

"Because he is a serial killer," Foolish adds. "He's killed, like, a bunch of guys."

Something taps Cellbit's elbow.

"Here," the man whispers, voice so soft and so close that it wraps around Cellbit's spine like a snake, "you should probably eat something if you're gonna drink like this."

("The prince said to the god, 'My Lord, you must be very busy! Allow me to help you with your godly duties!'" He said. "The god, unsuspecting of the seemingly-king prince, allowed the prince to become his head priest. The prince would listen to the people's prayers, but he would not tell them to the god. Thus, the god's strength slowly began to wane, and the prince's began to grow.")

Cellbit silently shakes his head. How many times does he have to-

"His name is Cellbit," Jaiden says, walking up to the bar- bells. "And he is very dangerous."

"Your juices," the tavern keeper grunts.

"He likes wine," Leo says, because of course she does, the little snitch.

(She always used to catch Cellbit sneaking some of the sacramental wine between ceremonies, and she would always make him do something absolutely ridiculous for her in exchange for not telling Him.)

"Well, only one guy here's ordered wine tonight," the tavern keeper says. "Right here."

He taps the bartop right in front of Cellbit's head.

Dammit.

Cellbit yowls as he's roughly grabbed by the back of his cloak and yanked off of his stool. He's thrown to the floor and his hood is ripped off of his head and his arms are immediately being pinned by a perfectly-stoic-looking Jaiden, who... looks about the same as Cellbit thought she'd look, actually.

"Dude!" Foolish shouts, glaring at Tina. "I thought you said he'd be ugly!"

Cellbit sneers and hisses and kicks. The entire tavern is watching him get absolutely owned, and he knows they're all thinking the same thing: Wow, what a monster.

He Knows it.

Tina throws her arms up in the air in frustration. "I thought he would be!"

Jaiden rummages through Cellbit's cloak until she finds his knife. She pulls it out, gives him a disapproving look, and tosses it absently behind her, where it disappears from sight in the growing crowd.

"Come on, dude, did you even try?" she sighs.

Cellbit answers by trying to rip her fucking throat out with his teeth; he doesn't get very far, obviously, but he does manage to scare the crowd back a few paces.

Except for the man at the bar, who has a thin piece of bread dangling in his fingertips as he watches.

His eyes are red, Cellbit notices, finally getting a proper look at him for the first time. That's...

("The god asked the prince if the work was too hard, because he was a good god," He said. "The prince denied it and asked for more work. And so he got more, and he grew in strength as the god's strength weakened even more.")

"Wow, Cellbit, you look like shit," Foolish comments.

Leo drinks her juice judgmentally; still in her father's arms, she holds her mug with both hands and glares.

"Thanks, I feel like it," Cellbit dryly responds.

He wiggles desperately.

Tina draws her sword.

Jaiden's scythe is on her back, a familiar blue ribbon tied around it, and dull silver bells tied to that.

Foolish clicks his tongue in disapproval. "Welp, you shouldn't have killed all those people, huh?"

Those 'people' were monsters, not that any of them would ever be willing to admit it. They're in too deep, they all are. Even poor Leonarda, too young to know a life outside of what is Known.

The man from the bar hops off his stool and joins the crowd, standing right by Cellbit's head.

His boots- the bottoms and sides of them- are crusted with still-drying blood.

He winks down at Cellbit, bread still in hand.

Then, he looks at Jaiden and says, "Hold on, let me help."

He crouches and holds Cellbit's shoulders down with absolutely no strength whatsoever.

Jaiden nods appreciatively. "Thanks."

"No problem, I'm a nice guy!"

He grins, and Cellbit swears that his teeth are sharpened to a point for just a second, just a fraction of a second. He Knows it, he Saw it, he-

He sees a familiar dagger sitting on the man's belt that Jaiden hasn't noticed yet.

(That is his fucking knife-!)

("The people began to call the prince the God of Hospitality because he was so kind to them," He said. "But, in reality, he was the beginning of Chaos Incarnate. From him, all Chaos would be born, and ruin would sweep across the land.")

Cellbit closes his eyes briefly, and he Sees who the man above him truly is, and, for the first time in his entire life, he feels fear.

Still. He opens his eyes, and he whispers, "Help me."

The man's eyes sparkle, but he sighs and shakes his head and says, "I told you to eat earlier, man. But it's fine, here! Something so you don't starve on your way to prison."

He holds out the scrap of bread, dangling it just above Cellbit's lips.

"Careful," Tina jokes, "he'll take a finger off."

"Say, 'Aaaahhh'," the man teases, eyes halfway narrowed in amusement.

Cellbit, with no other choice, obeys.

It's as he swallows that the fire in the fireplace goes out. And it's as the man pats Cellbit's cheek in approval that every single torch and candle in the tavern is blown out in a sudden cold wind.

"Oooooh, shit," Foolish astutely says.

("Did the prince have a name?" he asked, more curious than he was supposed to be. "Does it matter?" He snapped. "The lesson is to be wary of strangers, no matter how kind they may be." "But I need to know who he is in case he finds me!" "He won't find you, Prophet." "But what if he does? I need to be ready!" He laughed, then, more fond than he had ever heard Him laugh before. "All right." He nodded. "Should Chaos ever try and find you, know that you can always identify him as the prince formerly known as-")

Thunder crashes, and Chaos reigns.

---

A/N: Let me know what you think in the tags or in my inbox! Please let me know if you want more, because there is more!

[cathloves]

I love how captain swan met don't get me wrong but they really missed a trick not having hook be in storybrooke with them. He could've been cursed or even playing the long game waiting for the curse to be over so that rumple knew exactly who he was when he goes to kill him. Imagine rumple and Killian both failing to realise that the other isn't cursed. Imagine Killian meeting Emma when she comes to town and knows she's the one who breaks the curse. Imagine him first helping Henry make emma believe because he wants the curse breaking for selfish reasons but then begins to fall for her. Imagine at the pilot episode we see the clock tick and Killian looking up at the end of the episode and saying 'tick tock'. IMAGINE THE POSSIBILITIES.

(The fact that they didn't have the rights to Peter pan and the captain hook character until season 2 and that they wanted him in season 1 knowing all along they wanted him to be a love interest for Emma actually kills me. But we might not have gotten Colin 😭)

[haleth]

The Bachelor: Nargothrond coming soon! (The Bachelor is Túrin. Everyone dies.) Flower meanings under the cut!

Aeglos (I based its appearance off of gorse flowers)- A fictional flower that grows near her grave and has the same name as Gil-Galad's spear (cause who doesn't love a Fin-Galad hc)

Carolina Roses- Love is dangerous (this one feels self evident)

Hemlock- You will be my death (...)