#Without having to earn it or prove herself

[floatingaimlessly333]

Terrible news :

I’m sick with the flu and the only thing that can cure me is price family/joking/pos

Oh no!!! I’m hope I’m not too late, but I have brought something that may ease your illness:

Simon felt like he was going to vomit. Which, unfortunately, had become a common feeling over the past few weeks.

Johnny joked that it was morning sickness, which that earned him a glare and several hours of the silent treatment.

Simon knew that, in reality, it was just nerves. But this was a kind of nervousness he hadn’t felt since he was a teen, and he very much hadn’t missed it.

What was everyone going to say? Even worse, what would they think but never dare tell him to his face? What if they thought he couldn’t do this? What is it turned out that they were right?

If he didn’t shut this train of thought down, he was definitely going to end up having a meltdown. He just wished that all these questions had come to mind before he made such a huge commitment.

It was far too late for that now. This wasn’t something he could just back out of. Well, he technically could. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t, do that to Johnny. He was nothing like his shitty excuse for a father, and he was going to prove it.

Simon was finally broken out of his spiral by a warm palm landing on his shoulder.

“Ye ready to go, love? Pretty sure if we’re not at the house in the next 20 minutes, Farah’s gonnae drag us over there herself.”

The most Si could manage was a nod. He needed to save all of his words for the barrage of questions he was bound to face from his family. Even though he knew that, if his voice did fail him, his wonderful husband would be right there to carry on for him.

Without another word, the two men made their way to the car, followed by Si’s service dog Riley. The giant german shepherd made herself comfy in the equally as large man’s lap, as opposed to her usual spot in the back. She was always good at knowing when her owner could use an extra bit of comfort.

The car ride was far too short and quiet for either of the men’s tastes. That’s how you knew Johnny was just as nervous, because he couldn’t bring himself to fill the silence. After all, it wasn’t just the Price family that had to get the approval of, but the entire Mactavish and Riley clans as well.

Simon could do this. They could do this. They had to. They knew when they made the decision months ago that this was going to happen. And now it was go time.

“Are you sure we can’t tell them in 7 months? Make it a fun little surprise?” Simon was trying to lighten the mood, but his voice came out a little more desperate than intended.

“Si, if we do that both our mam’s will skin us alive. And then we’ll have ta deal with ma sisters, and then yer siblings, and then-“

“Alright, alright, I get it.” He sighed. “Let’s just get this over with.” He turned to leave the car, but John caught his hand before it could reach for the handle.

“It’s gonnae be alright, Mo ghràdh. But if it goes tits up, then we’ll just run away to the Highlands and become cow farmers.”

“I’m holding you to that, Johnny.” With one finally deep breath and a peck on the lips from his ridiculous partner, Simon was ready to face their family. Well, as ready as he was going to be.

The Price family house was the same as it was the day he had moved out: loud. It was actually louder than ever, with the combined noise of three families and his papa’s ever-growing collection of animals.

The pair made their way to the living room, narrowly avoiding tripping over Kyle’s rambunctious twin girls and a pit bull puppy with a case of the zoomies. There, they found the center of the chaos.

Price and Nik were busy cooing over Kyle’s youngest daughter, while Bonnie Mactavish boasted about her own small army of grandkids. Mary Riley was reminiscing about when Joseph was a baby, much the squirming seven-year-old’s embarrassment.

Roach and Alex had separated themselves from the baby fever and were in the middle of an aggressive arm wrestling match. They had already roped Phillip into their competition earlier, if the ice pack on his hand was anything to go by. Farah was alternating between cheering them on and fussing over a heavily pregnant Valeria. Valeria was juggling between soothing her worried wife and loudly arguing with Ale, as usual. Rudy was nowhere to be seen, meaning he had someone managed to escape the mayhem for a minute. Which Simon was deeply jealous of.

The two newcomers remained unnoticed until Joseph let out a squeal of “Uncle Simon!” and rushed into the blonde man’s arms.

Suddenly, all eyes were on them and a hush fell over the room. The couple’s arrival reminded everyone that they were gathered there to hear an Announcement, and everyone was on the edge of their seats.

The abrupt silence was somehow worse than the deafening noise, and Simon had to stop himself from booking it to the exit. He almost lost the battle to his urges, but then his mum was there, guiding him to the couch and telling him how much she missed him.

The other adults in the room broke out of their own stupor and followed suit, greeting the pair with hugs and kisses and pats on the back. Tommy even offered Si a brotherly smack on the back of the head, which he eagerly reciprocated.

But all too quickly, everyone remembered why they where their, and the spotlight was firmly back the young men.

This was it.

Simon felt the nausea roiling in his stomach once again, and he feared he might puke all over Joseph, who had settled in his lap.

He contemplated passing the little boy over to Beth, but then Jo looked up at him with those big green eyes and his cute little gap-toothed smile. He could do this. If not for himself, then for his nephew, who had influenced this decision in the first place.

Sensing his trepidation, Johnny opened his mouth to start them off, but Si silenced him with a hand on his thigh. He said that he wanted to be the one to tell them, and he was sticking by that.

He looked into Johnny’s eyes to muster up his courage, and then he said those words that were both dread and so joyous.

“Johnny and I are having a baby.”

More silence.

Si’s stomach dropped and his mind raced. They didn’t think he could do it. They thought he’d be a bad father. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t look at them. He couldn’t do this.

He started to awkwardly stand up, hoping to throw up somewhere that wasn’t on his nephew. He’s stopped in his tracks by a startled laugh from next to him.

“Bloody hell, Si, ye couldnae have broken the news gentler? Ah think yer da is gonnae have a heart attack!” Johnny broke off again in a fit a laughter, earning him a smack from his oldest sister. But even she was smothering her own chuckle.

All around him, Si’s family began to laugh, filling the space with the bright and happy noise he was so accustomed to.

After he recovered from his own amusement, Johnny began to explain everything in more detail. He told them about their surrogate, and how she was about 3 months along. Meanwhile, Simon just sat there, basking in the smiles and congratulations from a family he never imagined he’d be lucky enough to have.

Eventually, it was Nik who popped the question everyone was dying to know.

“So, am I looking forward to a beautiful granddaughter or a beautiful grandson?”

Johnny smiled wickedly and let Simon do the honors.

“A grandson.” He let a beat go by, before hitting them with the big news. “And a granddaughter.”

There was an eruption of squeals and gasps and cheers from around the room, leaving no doubt in Simon’s mind that their babies were love and accepted. That he was loved and accepted.

After that, everything blended into a rowdy and overstimulating and wonderful mess.

Nik whooped and started passing drinks around the room. Price cried about how his baby was growing up while Bonnie teased him, even with the tears in her own eyes. Johnny’s sisters tried to scare their brother with parenting horror stories, while Simon’s siblings fought over who would be the favorite aunt/uncle. Gaz and Tommy welcomed him as a new father. Joseph insisted that he should get to be the first one to hold the new babies.

Simon let it wash over him, content to lean into his mum and watch everyone celebrate.

“You’re gonna be such a good dad, Si. Your babies will know they’re loved from the second they’re born. I’m so proud of you, baby boy.” Mary pressed a kiss to his temple, and if he let a few tears slip down his face, then that was his business.

He could do this. It would be hard. Anything in life that’s worth is. But at least he wouldn’t be doing it alone.

These babies really had no idea how much love was waiting for them when they get here.

I’m sorry this is so long!!! I haven’t written anything is so long, so it just kinda all came out lol. I hope you like it and that it’s not a complete mess!!! I hope this helps you feel better! Don’t die on me, Aggs!!

[sykhle]

Danny somehow finds out how Talia feels about this and is just (that comically slow brain empty blink where you do one eye and then the other):

Daughter? New daughter? For me?

...

HEY DANI, how do you feel about an older sister?

____________

Danny, who has gained his only child through clone related shenanigans, seeing another one: This is how you acquire children, right??

Dani, having acquired her father through clone related shenanigans and also never having experienced it any other way: Sounds about right.

____________

Dani to Talia the first time they talk after the family expansion: Welcome Sister! Let's talk shit about dad's template.

_____________

Like: you see this teen, 16 MAX, surrounded by an adult woman and a kid. And he just goes:

Ah yes, this is my adult-several-decades-older-than-me eldest daughter and my few-months-old-twelve-year-old youngest daughter.

Aren't they cute? (said with a voice full of fatherly pride and affection) (while said eldest daughter menacingly sharpens a sword and the chaotic glint in the eyes of the youngest makes you actually fear for society.)

DPxDC Prompt #7

Danny is a clone.

But not of Bruce. Nor Tim. Nor Damian, Jason, or Dick. Not Clark or Diana or any of those usual suspects.

No, no.

You see, when Ra's realized that he was running out of Pits to revive himself with, before he resorted to allowing Talia to give him a grandson with the Detective, Ra's tried to clone

Himself.

After all, who better to be his Heir(/Vessel to Possess) when this body ultimately fails him.

But he failed. Repeated use of the Lazarus Pits had done something to his DNA. Changed or degraded it. All of the clones were unstable from the start. None surviving past the embryonic stage.

All but one.

Ra's last attempt before deeming the project a failure developed all the way to standard 40 weeks before flatlining.

In a last ditch effort to salvage it, Ra's instructed for the clone to be dipped in the Pit. Only to have the Lazarus Waters rip the stillborn infant away and down down down into it's depths.

Immediately following that last failure, Ra's finally relented and gave Talia permission to inseminate herself and bear him an Heir of his and the Detective's blood.

.

Meanwhile, in the Infinite Realms, an Old Clock finds a mortal infant choking on his first living breaths through the Corrupted Ectoplasm in his lungs which gave him life and brought him here. The Ancient smiles. The Realms has chosen her next King. And what a Great One he shall be. Now the Time Keeper needs only deliver the infant where he needs to be to become who he must become.

[shorthaltsjester]

so, so many thoughts about ashton’s words and position re the gods but nothing really struck me as much as “i’d like to see them pray to us.” (or whatever the exact wording is) because yeah, that’s extremely ashton, that’s the same attitude of a person who has been hurt and broken by life in an unfair manner and tried to absorb a shard because they thought it would fix it, ignoring all warnings that it would make it worse, and then insisting it wasn’t about power, despite the fact that it explicitly was about power — the power to render their life fair. it becomes increasingly clear every time that ashton opens his mouth that, along with being an incisive translation of certain kinds of punk politics to exandria, ashton is more set on vengeance than justice, even if he insists his motivation is that the gods are a source of injustice, it seems more like what he admitted after the shard: he’s spent his life looking for someone to blame, and while he’s happy to hate himself, it took a while for them to realize they were an agent in their own story, culpable for the life they’ve lived. ashton looks at the gods and sees a metaphorical vehicle of all the harm and hurt and pain that’s befallen him due to people in positions of power and cannot (or refuses) to see that a) the gods position isn’t actually all that powerful without the mortals who choose over and over to fulfil divine will for good or evil or in between and b) the gods already have a relationship to mortals that is akin to prayer.

and this is all extremely in character, as much as a lot of ashton’s comments echo many a political stance that makes me roll my eyes, it’s always with an attitude of yes of course ashton would say that. what is mildly more irritating (or perhaps concerning) is the readiness with which aspects of the audience concur with ashton’s assessment, when we have seen countless interactions of gods with mortals that shows us that the gods, though not actual prayer, have a very similar kind of belief in mortals that they ask of those who believe in them. like, vox machina had two episodes dedicated to talking to the gods, where it was revealed that the everlight didn’t just know pike but has beholden to her as the one who brought her back into import. where vex proved herself to pelor not just through completing his challenge but by having long been an imperfect but true source of good for the family she’s chosen that they convinced pelor that vex was a suitable champion by pointing out that she has earned several of their belief, she protects the same city pelor blessed with the sun tree, she’s protective and protected, and her heart and her intelligence are equally sound when it comes to her ability to make judgements, (all things we’ve learned since c1 are important to pelor) resulting in pelor deciding he would also believe in her. where ioun pointed out that while she keeps all stories, scanlan is a storyteller, and what could she possibly cherish more than that.

each god when vox machina spoke to them was quick to correct them when vox machina suggested things like their paths being determined or their lives being beyond their control or the world being down to the will of the gods. vex apologizes to the everlight for not realizing that the gods were really beings and she tells vox machina that she doesn’t ask for the belief of all, only those who wish to give it, as the gods chose to give mortals the ability to choose as they wish upon anything, including their faith in the deities. when vox machina asks pelor to whether they should do something with vecna’s eye, he insists that they make the decision whether they’d like to destroy it or use it — he will help however they decide, but he insists it’s on them to choose the outcome. they speak with ioun, who knows their and every story, and she tells them that the gods do not choose the individual fates of mortals, it is up to every person to choose who they will and will not be, and sometimes that guides them to places the gods have predicted, but never without the choices a mortal makes to arrive there.

the concept of belief throughout the three campaigns has been an complex and ever shifting one — as it deserves. in campaign 1, it’s largely in the context of coming to understand what it means to believe in gods when they obviously do exist, but what are you believing in, and why might you choose not to. in campaign 2, jester’s presence complicated things by pointing out that it isn’t just the divinity of the gods that earns them their power but that belief itself is a kind of divinity and with yasha, caduceus and fjord we see that the role of the gods isn’t just power-granting, it comes to be an essential part of many of those who follow the gods. and in campaign 3, we’ve seen both of those explorations come up but the difficulty is we have none of the perspective of someone who actually believes — even fcg was new to worship couldn’t offer much insight on what the loss of the gods might do to people who believe in the gods not because they grant power but because like jester they were lonely and the found a friend in one, or if like yasha they were lost and were saved by one, or if like fjord the asked for help and were aided by one. to be clear i don’t think this a weakness of the story being told — i think it’s a particularly interesting aspect of bh’s position, but i do think it weakens the perspectives of thinkers like ashton who haven’t even heard what a god means to some people, let alone taken seriously the pain that losing the gods would constitute for countless people.

so, ashton might be particularly charged against the gods — even to the point of being the only one to outright make a noise of disagreement when it’s brought up that while bells hells disagree on specifics, they all agree on saving the gods — and he has plenty of reasons to have that position that can easily result in the audience going, yeah, i understand why he’s made that judgement. but that is not the same as hearing what ashton has said and going (with all the knowledge we the audience have that ashton does not) “he’s right, actually” when there are two campaigns telling you, explicitly, “he’s not.” and this isn’t me saying things can’t be revealed that complicate or recontextualize knowledge from previous campaigns, i’m just saying that, thus far, if anything, campaign 3 (especially downfall) has only cemented the degree to which the prime deities have to believe in mortals.

truly the first thought i had when i heard ashton say his line about the gods praying to mortals instead was the fact that several of his party members received a vision from the raven queen asking for help, that fcg asked the changebringer if she was scared and she said yes, that earthbreaker groon looked at imogen and saw her self-doubt And the belief that bells hells has in her anyway and kord reached through him to tell imogen that she had the potential for greatness and that the gods are counting on her. the prime deities have long been praying to mortals, they believe in the power of mortals (for good and ill) — that’s exactly what downfall was about. the power that gods still have is entirely mediated by the mortals who believe in them, who choose to believe in them. the power of mortals does not have those bounds, and while that doesn’t mean they get to sling 9th level spells at will and multiply their damage by 10, it does mean that, in this particular moment in exandria, ludinus’ power is a much more likely (and, historically and contextually proven) source of injustice than the prime deities.

beyond the magic limitations and considering the ill-fitting metaphor of the gods as being a position of power in a sociopolitical sense, the distance of the gods means that if they want to manipulate people into maintaining their position, it’s quite difficult to do. in comparison with ludinus “cult tactics” da’leth, it strikes me as odd when the parts of the cr audience react to the prime deities doing things like . allowing mortals agency (which, as every existentialist writer ever has correctly pointed, out is both a burden and gift) as if it is actually a long-con manipulation or something.

anyway, TL:DR, ashton is an a interesting character whose beliefs and ideas make sense given his placement in the story and their experiences, but an audience who has seen campaigns 1-3 and says they agree with him with their whole chest should definitely consider either a) rewatching or b) taking a critical thinking or media literacy class

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - The Beginning of the End (Long Drabble) Author's Notes: I got so many thoughts on this so bear with me. I didn't have the brain power to write this as a full fic so accept the various drabbles that will come out of this concept. Also If anyone has done this before, please let me know! I would love to read that! Warnings: MDNI, Sexual Themes, Slight Violence, Angst

You're currently on a probationary period to be the permanent Intelligence Operative for Task Force 141. Despite being trained and recommended by Kate Laswell herself, Laswell found a hard time finding a team that would treat you with the level of respect you were warranted as many saw you as a glorified assistant.

Frustrated by the blatant disrespect, Laswell calls Price, despite knowing that he doesn't like to work with strangers. After singing your praises and promising him that he would not be disappointed, Price concedes and decides to give you a chance. If after a year you managed to prove your worth, you would earn yourself a permanent position on his team.

But by the 3-month mark, Price and the rest of the team knew you were here to stay. They honestly couldn't believe that no one wanted to work with you. You were exactly everything that Laswell promised... heck, even more if you asked any of the 141.

You were always on top of your work as well as the boys', even jumping in when it got too much. Your attention to detail was impeccable as you managed to save the team both time and resources from faulty intel or bad leads. But, what really cemented your place on the team was the way you managed to worm yourself in each of their hearts. 

Before Soap even had a chance to pursue you, you sought him out first. Whenever you had a problem, instead of calling the Captain, or the Lieutenant, or even the older Sergeant, you always called him first, the Sergeant that still feels like he has a lot to prove. And when Johnny asks why, you say that he's already proven himself, which makes his heart soar. So of course, the Scotsman thinks of you when he's thinking of strategies to suggest or jokes to pull out during the next meeting. 

And when Kyle asked for your attention, you gave it without hesitation. While everyone else on base focuses on Soap's jokes, Price's wisdom, or Ghost's commands, you eagerly wait for Gaz' input, conscious of what it feels like to be talking while no one listens. You are enamored by everything he has to say, giving him your utmost attention, a rare thing for the Sergeant. Even when he pushes back on orders, you're the first one to listen and ask the rest of the team to just consider. So of course, Kyle looks for you whenever his mind begins to race.

And when Price falters, you're there to pick him up, never with an ounce of judgement. You're the first in his office, with a coffee or snack in hand (since you know he's probably forgotten to eat), and the last to leave it, putting as much time and heart in strategizing as he does. You remind him that he deserves to rest as much as his boys and that you'll never see him as less when his Captain persona cracks. So of course, when John finally has a chance to unwind, he thinks of you and your warm smile.

And finally, when Ghost tries to intimidate you, you stand your ground. You were aware of his reputation, but it didn't really phase you. He wasn't the first person that's tried to unnerve you. But instead of scaring you off, you managed to intimidate him after he catches you chewing out two rookies for bad-mouthing him. When he confronts you and asks why the passionate defense, you just shrug, reasoning that that's what teammates do. He has your back and you have his. So of course, Ghost becomes your shadow, jumping for the chance to protect you.

That's why when you're all at a bar, celebrating your 4 months with the team, the guys are loving by the fact that you drank more than usual. You've become much more bold in your affection for each of them. And they won't lie and say that they didn't like the heavy-handed compliments or even the intimate touches. However, it's when you start talking about a future with them that their patience nearly snaps.

"You know I'd gladly marry any of you." You admit as you finish your 7th beer. With your laughter in the background, they all still as they imagine what that would be like. Dressing up and waiting for you at the altar, his breath held in anticipation for you to bless the place and his life with your presence. Going to your now-shared home and taking you over, and over, and over, and over again until your body is leaking with his spent. Willingly giving you his mind, body, and soul for as long as the world allows him as a sign of gratitude for choosing him when you could have picked anyone else. They all stare at you as they all realize how badly they wanted to snatch you up and make this a reality.

You're so drunk, you fail to notice your teammates' hungry stares. But, they don't. Jealousy seeps in their bones as they realize that their captain, their lieutenant, their sergeant, and their fellow sergeant were all thinking the same thing.

So obviously, infighting starts. They still manage to get their work done but now it's a competition to see who can earn your praise. Now, the Captain's orders become suggestions. The Lieutenant's bark is just that. The sergeants' playful snips turn into snarls. The growing need to put the other in their place festers in each and every one of them. It's not great, but it's manageable... until it's not.

While Price and Ghost are arguing over the plans for the next mission, they get called into the gym. On entrance, they find Soap and Kyle lunging at the other's throat. Price grabs Kyle and Ghost grabs Johnny, pulling the two SAS soldiers off from one another. The damage isn't serious, but it's there: Kyle's lip is torn and the corner of Soap's eyes is bleeding. It's clear they're not done yet as Kyle snarls at the Scotsman, telling him that you would never go for a fool like him. Soap retaliates and barks that you wouldn't go for a wimp like Gaz.

Realizing what's happening to his team, Price calls an emergency meeting in his office. With all men inside, the room is tense. No one speaks.

"We need to put a stop to this," admits Price with a heavy weight in his heart. As captain, he knows that for the sake of the task force, tough decisions have to be made. They were soldiers first before men. The men shrink under his gaze, realizing what has to be done.

"So from here on out, they're off limits. Whatever relationship you have with them, end it." Kyle and Soap open their mouths to argue, but Price quickly silences them.

"And if you can't control yourself, I'll have them transferred. Understood?" John felt his stomach lurch with his statement. He couldn't imagine kicking you off the team, but he had to push that feeling aside right now. If him and his men didn't get their shit together, innocent people would suffer.

"Yes sir," grunts out Ghost. He slowly makes his way to the door.

Soap nods his head, eyes sharp and jaw tense. He's right behind the Lieutenant.

Gaz waits a bit and stares Price down. "You sure about this?" he spits at his captain.

Returning the stare, Price stands firm on his decision. "Positive. It's what best for the team." Gaz just nods and walks out, slamming the door behind him.

You're not entirely sure what happened in that emergency meeting, but with the way the guys walked out of Price's office, you knew it wasn't good. Ghost walks past you, completely ignoring you. Soap looks at you but quickly turns his head when your eyes meet his. And Gaz shoots you a grimace, but doesn't say a word.

Despite not knowing what happened that day, you quickly feel its consequences.

Word Count: 1310

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[slytherin-pen]

Safe In His Arms

A/N: my first imagine, woo! i’ve known for awhile Cassian would be the first because he just gives me those mushy feels i need in x reader fics. this one is an emotional ride but i hope you love it nonetheless!

summary: You and Cassian found yourselves in a rare argument. Despite being mates, there were certain touchy subjects where you both held differing views. Cassian usually kept his composure around you, mindful of not scaring his beloved mate. But on this occasion, emotions ran high and Cassian's usual restraint slipped away. After going to the River House to allow you both space, Cassian returns to find you amid a panic attack. Determined to comfort you, he pulls out all the stops to show you just how cherished and secure you are in his arms.

pairing: Cassian x fem!reader

word count: 4.5k

banner credit to @cafekitsune

all ACOTAR credits belong to SJM

warnings: anxiety, ptsd, mentions of canon typical violence, mentions of parental abuse, very brief mention of suicidal thoughts, panic attacks, negative self-talk, swearing, brief mention of self-inflicted injuries (but not like that)

As the sun dipped behind the mountains in Velaris, it painted the House of Wind with hues of pink, purple, and blue. You were nestled into an armchair beside the crackling hearth, your legs and the skirt of your dress tucked under you, engrossed in one of the house's romance novels. The only other sound in the room was your ragged breaths and occasional sniffles. Although the spring air had begun to weave through the Night Court, the warmth of the fire provided a sense of comfort that no amount of blankets could replicate. Maybe it was the reminder of campfires in Illyria where you grew up. Or perhaps a certain Illyrian whose body heat was akin to the flames in the hearth.

You missed that body. Broad, muscular shoulders that were covered in his hard-earned Illyrian tattoos. Long black hair you could never resist running your fingers through. And his eyes, cauldron boil you, his eyes masterfully flecked with green and gold. It's as if the Mother herself took a paintbrush and carefully selected the perfect place for each color. You wished you could replace this chair with him and plant yourself in his loving arms. The only place you felt safe.

Snap out of it, you thought to yourself. You and Cassian argued this morning. You were supposed to be mad at him. He had gone to the River House in an attempt to give you both space to process what had been said, leaving the House of Wind to you. As if you could go anywhere else. You were an Illyrian with clipped wings. You couldn't fly and you couldn't winnow. You surely weren’t taking the ten thousand steps down the mountain.

It had been at least five hours since Cassian left, and for the mere fact he knows you can't leave without him, you hope he’ll come home soon. He knows how anxious you get when you feel trapped. Your anxiety was a contributing factor to why you and Cassian argued in the first place. It was also what sent you into a state of panic.

You two had been talking about future theoretical children when the concept of joining the Illyrian camps came up. You would never allow your children to experience the abuse you did growing up. Being close friends with the High Lord of the Night Court and living in Velaris, you couldn't fathom subjecting your children to the same horrors you endured when you were fortunate enough not to have to.

But, Cassian views it differently. The Illyrian mountains shaped him into the male he is today. He embraces his heritage, barring some of the less desirable aspects, and he would be honored to witness his children follow his legacy. Unlike you, Cassian was able to turn his past into something that motivated him. He always had something to prove. He always had a battle to win. You suppose you shouldn't expect anything different from the General. The Illyrians saw him as a bastard brute, and he would die before he accepted defeat in changing their minds. One day, he would show everyone he was more than a bastard, and Illyria was more than the culture of misogyny and violence it harbored.

Your past quite literally weighed you down in the form of wings dragging behind you. While the bat boys were raised in Windhaven, you grew up in Ironcrest. It had been as terrible as the gossip the mothers told around the fires in Windhaven. They felt lucky to have their lives as opposed to those in Ironcrest.

Your mother died when you were a child. You hadn't been home at the time, busy with your chores around the camp. When you came home, your father was sitting on the couch with his elbows resting on his knees and a glass of alcohol in one hand. He was drunk. Not that it was anything new. What was new were the scratch marks down his face and a bloody, still-healing stab wound in his right wing. You still don't believe the story he told that day. ‘Your mother lost it,’ he said. Your kind, gentle, nurturing mother who would never hurt anyone. Unless it was life or death, she had taught you that much. How to use your surroundings and the resources near you to defend yourself. Your mother knew it would happen one day. Your father had never laid a hand on you until she died, but you’d always known he had a temper and he frequently took it out on your mother. She would tell you to stay away and lock yourself in your room, and she would keep all of his attention on her until he left for the bar. But then she died, and suddenly, your nightmares became your reality. He didn’t even wait a week before he clipped your wings - after he had knocked you unconscious with his fists.

Your father had never been punished. In fact, he had been praised by his fellow warriors. You knew, if something happened to your children, no one would help them. You doubted you or Cassian could be there in time, every time. Something terrible would happen one day.

The whole conversation had stressed you out, sending you into a spiral of thoughts of doom, doom, doom. They were absurd, of course. Creating all these fake scenarios in your head as justification for your opinions about non-existent children. But Cassian had well and truly riled you up. He couldn’t help himself when his pride was hurt, he felt backed into a corner, and he couldn’t stop the harsh words from tumbling out of his mouth. You attacked his pride, so he hit you where it hurt right back.

You never told him everything about what happened to you, not just the kind of life you were escaping, but how you got away and why you were so hurt when you arrived in Windhaven. You told them that you were running from your father, he had clipped your wings and intended to sell you to a vile male. Not far from the truth considering marrying you off was definitely on his agenda at some point. But you explained away your injuries by claiming as a defenseless female running through camps alone, you got into some trouble along the way. Rhysand and Cassian believed you. Azriel being the Spymaster remained skeptical. Not of your intentions, but your injuries did not add up to a couple of scuffles. He let it go, though. He understood not being ready to share the full, brutal truth.

But because of Cassian’s ignorance of the situation, he never understood why you were so jumpy, scared of the dark, and constantly afraid of things you couldn’t explain. Why you had such crippling anxiety that caused you to leave parties early. Why you rarely joined the Inner Circle at Rita’s. Why you have panic attacks over the smallest things. Your biggest insecurity was how different you were from him. He was the big, brave, Lord of Bloodshed. He killed people regularly for cauldron's sake. And you, the damsel in distress who can’t even walk alone down the stairs at night. You were powerless, defenseless, and flightless. The complete opposite of him. You were supposed to be his equal, according to the Mother, but you couldn’t help but worry about whether she got it wrong. Whether she shackled him to the wrong female, for eternity.

Him calling you dramatic was an arrow to your heart. It hurt. He hadn’t meant for you to take it to heart like that, he was referring to the current situation. But you couldn’t help yourself in thinking it was a secret he’d kept, just waiting for him to lose a little restraint before it slipped through his lips. Here it is, you thought. The moment you’ve feared since you and Cassian began courting. He would realize how pathetic you were compared to him. How you were more like a skittish child than the equal to a warrior.

When he left, you spiraled further and further down until you couldn’t breathe.

He’s going to leave you.

He’s not coming back.

He will find a female more worthy of him and bed her.

You didn’t want to believe the lies your anxiety told you, but without Cassian there to ground you, you were bound to crash. The panic attack was sudden; like a thunderstorm in the summertime. You thrashed and wailed, clawing at your neck just so desperate for air. Unsurprisingly, that was all entirely unhelpful and you eventually tired out on the floor by the fire. When you woke from your brief nap, you crawled to the armchair and asked the House for a book. You were utterly numb, but at least you could read about other people’s feelings.

Just as you neared the end of the chapter you heard the front door open and heavy boots step through the foyer. Finally. Keeping your eyes open was becoming difficult, the soft crackle of the fire lulling you to sleep. It was important to you both that you always talked things out eventually, specifically before you went to sleep at night. ‘Never go to bed angry,’ had been your promise to each other. As he approached the library, you gathered ‘eventually’ was right now.

Cassian slowly pushed the door open, the House purposefully causing the door to creak as he did so. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at that. Once he was through the threshold, he could see you facing the fire, turned away from him slightly. His hair was tied into a bun and his wings were tucked in tightly behind him. He took slow, careful steps as he approached. In his mind, you may as well be an injured animal. He knew he fucked up and he would deserve every snarl and lash of claws you gave him. His fierce, resilient, compassionate mate. You were a force to be reckoned with when you wanted to be. Before he left the River House, he needed his brothers to give him the confidence to face you. Your sharp tongue could slice him into a thousand pieces if you will it. And he prayed to the cauldron you wouldn't, but if that's what you needed from him, he would stand there and take it.

But as he grew closer to you and took in the dried tear stains down your cheek, red puffy eyes, and your mess of hair falling out of its braid- he realized you were not on the attack as he had expected. You just stared at the closed book in your lap, tapping the cover rhythmically with the nails of your thumbs, jaw clenched shut. Fuck, you were anxious. Probably had been for hours now. He knew he shouldn’t have left you but he couldn’t let himself, or you, continue down the path of spitting insults at each other. Plenty of lovers in his past had preferred those methods during arguments, but the two of you had never been like that and he didn’t plan to start today.

Cassian knelt in front of you and a pained expression took over his face as he noticed the raised marks down your neck. With his large, shaking hands, he removed the book from your lap and placed it on the side table. “Sweetheart,” he whispered as he enclosed your hands in his.

You had tried to prepare yourself for this. You wanted to be brave, talk this through like mature adults, but now that he was here his words rang through your ears like temple bells.

‘You’re being dramatic.’ You knew he meant how seriously you were taking the theoretical future lives of your children and not you, but in the moment it had felt more like a dig. You were dramatic. You had your anxiety to thank for that. Hypothetical, hypothetical, hypothetical. Your mind was consumed with hypotheticals every day and he had given you the signal to run with it. Until it went too far and you practically had steam coming out of your ears while Cassian paced back and forth muttering curses to the cauldron. That’s when he decided to leave for a few hours, which quickly became six after asking Rhys for relationship advice turned into him, Rhys and Azriel finishing a bottle of wine together.

You released a shaking breath as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. Your eyes immediately welled with tears at the hurt across his face. Hurt for you. Hurt for him. You both said things you shouldn’t have.

Cassian didn’t hesitate to lift you before sitting down in the chair and settling you across his lap at the sight of your tears. He knew he had a temper and the Mother knew he tried so hard to keep it under control for you. When you first met, he was acting as General accompanied by the High Lord and Shadowsinger. They had come into the healer's tent to interrogate you about where you came from and you had been utterly terrified. Too terrified to even speak. Rhysand had let it go long enough for you to be treated and calmed down. You looked harmless enough and had been severely injured. He doubted you were looking to pick a fight in that state.

When they returned, you had been healed, cleaned, and fed. Looking less like the almost-corpse a couple of warriors dragged in a few hours prior and more like the beautiful female he held today. The bond snapped for you both a couple of months later, but Cassian courted you like a proper gentleman. He understood that mating bond or not, he had to earn your trust and your love. You had been hurt before and you weren’t going to so easily allow yourself to be vulnerable again.

The mating ceremony happened a year ago but you both had so much love for each other it felt like it had been hundreds. Cassian was going to make sure you knew that hadn’t changed, remind you that he loved you more than the stars loved the night. “Sweetheart I’m so sorry. What I said, i-it was terrible. And I didn’t mean to make you feel like I thought you, overall, were dramatic. It was a poor choice of words and I’m sorry.”

You burrowed your head into the crook of his shoulder and tightened your arms around his neck, shielding your face from his assessing stare. He was doing a damage check. He's not surprised a fight between you would cause a panic attack. Surprising or not, you hated how you reacted when things got tense or stressful. You always wanted to be strong like Cass, or unwavering like Mor. But behind the ferocious mask you could put on when you felt vulnerable and defenseless, you were still a traumatized female. A female who is still afraid any mistake could cause you to be sent back to Ironcrest. Afraid that any angered male might still strike you, despite being proven wrong by the gentle, giant bats of the Inner Circle. You could feel the mask crumpling. It had started falling apart ever since you became aware of his presence. You could never hide yourself from him.

The pads of his fingers brushed the hair out of your face. “Look at me, baby.” His voice was hoarse, his throat constricting at the thought of how upset you must have been, and he had left you alone.

You slowly turned your head away from his shoulder and looked up at him. You took a ragged breath before you spoke. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “I’m sorry too.”

He guided your hand up to the collar of his shirt, a spot he knew you liked to hold onto when you were anxious. The fabric in your grip and the faint thumps of his nearby heartbeat grounded you. “What happened here,” he asked, tracing the angry skin on your neck with tender knuckles.

You wiggled to get up, but he only reinforced his hold on you. “I’m fine, Cass please-”

“Shhh.” He gently pushed your head back to his chest and kissed the crown of your head. “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. We both know you aren't fine right now. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

You shook your head. Despite the heaving of your chest, and your body still sensing something wrong, you repeated; “I’m fine.”

“I can hear your heartbeat pounding like a drum. You know I’m here for you when it comes to these things. I’m your mate, this,”-he motioned to you in his lap- “is what I’m here for.” He started running his fingers through your hair, coaxing you to tilt your face towards him again. “Let me be here for you. Not just physically, but emotionally too. I know there… are things you haven’t told me about where you came from.”

Your whole body stiffened at that. He hates you. He thinks you’re a liar. He’s going to leave you. “Hey, sweetheart, look at me,” his stern, concerned voice swam through the muffling of your thoughts. He gripped your chin and you realized while you were looking at him, you couldn’t see him. It was all so cloudy and distorted. Tears. You’re crying again, damnit. And you weren’t breathing. How long had you not been breathing? You could feel your face heat and the thump, thump, thump of your heart hammereing around in your skull.

“Deep breaths for me, baby. In and out,” Cassian’s voice sounded again. You attempted to gasp for air but all that did was release the wrack of sobs that you had been barely keeping contained. He squeezed your waist and rocked you back and forth. “It’s alright. Let it out. I’m here.” Your hand found his shirt again and you gripped it like your life depended on it. Tears fell onto his shoulders and before your other hand could scratch at your thigh, he took it and started to rub your knuckles with his thumb. He knew it would be bad, but he didn’t expect this bad. Guilt gnawed away at him. Some mate he was, leaving you alone in a time of need. You were having two panic attacks within hours of each other, no doubt draining your little body. “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he choked out. “I won’t leave you again, I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry. I will stay here for as long as you need, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Cassian knew, with a heavy heart, that he had discovered the magic words. Your wailing sobs turned to soft, shuddering breaths and he felt you finally hold his hand in return as you came back to reality. “You know I would never leave you right, sweet girl,” he asked with a strained voice.

The silence that followed was deafening. Cassian released a shaking breath of his own. “Alright,” he croaked. Now that you could see his face again, you noticed the silver lining his eyes. You did this to him. You hurt his feelings. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to be completely honest with me, baby. Can you do that for me?”

You gave him a small nod, the slight movement sent your head into another throbbing fit.

“Why would you think I’d leave you? Over one argument?”

Your eyes were still glazed over as you stared past him. “Because he’d always leave after. He was never sorry,” you whispered.

Cassian’s hold tightened around you on instinct. “Who?”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth before you spoke. “My dad. He used to hurt me, Cass, that’s- it’s why I’m like this,” you exasperated gesturing to yourself. You turned away from his glare to face the fire, stopping the scold right on his tongue. Fine. He could remind you not to talk about yourself like that later. “He killed my mom, I think. No one but him knows what happened that day, but I knew my mom. And I know him. I don't need Azriel to put the clues together for me. I was so young and scared when it happened I never questioned him to his face. But as I got older, I grew more defiant and he hated it. He’d say I was worse than my mother. But my mother would only let him when she had to protect me. I only had myself to protect, but it was useless. I couldn’t fly and I was so much smaller, so much weaker than him. I just- I just wanted it to end.”

Cassian swallowed thickly. “What do you mean you wanted it to end?”

“It was so stupid,” you huffed. “I thought, maybe if I pushed him far enough he just wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop unt- until I didn’t have to live with him anymore. But my self-preservation kicked in at some point. I hit him with one of the dining chairs, and then I just started throwing everything in my reach at him until he collapsed.” Tears trickled down your face but they were slower, calmer than the ones from earlier. “I didn’t pause to check if he was still alive. I just ran. I ran out the back door and I didn’t stop until I could feel my body shutting down. I would hide. Sleep. Then start running again before dawn. It took me two weeks to get to Windhaven. I didn’t know where I was. I thought I was dead when those males started dragging me through the camp.”

Cassian was crying now. War General be damned, his mate had been through Hell, and she kept it to herself all this time. “Why didn’t you tell me,” he croaked. “We asked you what happened that day and- and you said-“ His jaw snapped shut. He should’ve known. Cauldron, some part of him had known. He may not be the Spymaster but your injuries had been severe. He had so easily believed some cruel, passing Illyrians had done that to you but it all made so much more sense now. Not just what happened to you that day, but the fear that kept you in a chokehold day in and day out. The constant anxiety, looking over your shoulder around every corner, eyes constantly roaming the room for threats.

“I didn’t tell you because, well, originally I just wasn’t ready. Then we found out we were mates and I felt all this pressure to be your equal and I was scared if you found out I wasn’t-“

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Cassian’s commanding tone cut through. “You are my equal. Sweetheart, you don’t ever need to step on a battlefield or wield a sword to be my equal. In fact, I’d prefer it if you never did,” he said with a wink. “But you are strong. You are so strong. What you survived with your dad, and crossing Illyria alone, takes strength. Strength that even some of the warriors in my legion don’t have.”

You looked at him through your wet lashes and he took the chance to wipe away your tears with his thumb. “I never thought of it like that,” you whispered.

Cassian shot you a crooked grin. “That’s what I’m here for.” He gave your forehead a tender kiss and you let your eyelids close as you felt the warmth of his lips seep into your skin. “Have you eaten yet?”

The feral growl that erupted from your stomach was answer enough, causing you to blush. Cassian chuckled as he stood with you in his arms, careful of your drooping wings, and walked towards the dining room. “We need to fix that don’t we?”

You nodded sheepishly. “Time got away from me a little bit.”

“It’s alright, sweet girl. We’ll get you fed and then in bed. I’m sure you’re exhausted,” he suggested, earning a nod from you.

As he sat down at the table with you in his lap again, the House immediately provided a spread of small chocolates, fruits, and bread across the table. A second later a pot and two tea cups appeared in front of you and Cassian. “Thank you, House,” you giggled. You still weren’t used to just how sentient the house was. It knew you couldn’t eat a proper meal after the day you had, and instead opted for your favorite, comforting snacks.

Cassian poured tea into the cups and handed yours to you. “My lady,” he grinned. You hadn’t realized how thirsty you were until the sweetness of the honey started to soothe the scratchiness in your throat from all the crying, and you finished the cup instantly. You blushed even more as Cassian refilled your cup with a smile. “Good thing the house makes the pot bottomless.”

“I still don’t understand how all that works. I don’t have any magic so maybe I’m just stu-“ Cassian plopped a piece of chocolate into your mouth with a glare, hazel eyes blazing with determination.

“Do not,” the cold ferocity in his voice left no room for argument, “finish that sentence.” He clenched his jaw as his eyes bore into yours. He felt your body trembling slightly, cursed the cauldron internally, and cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb back and forth along your cheekbone. “You can’t talk about yourself like that, baby. You can’t. I love you. You understand? I love you, and it pains me to hear you say those things about yourself. I can’t even imagine what goes on in your head. I know it’s what you’re used to, it was all you had, and your damned father is to blame for it, but it’s not like that anymore. He can’t hurt you here, and I’ll kill the bastard myself if I ever see him, but you’re safe. You’re safe here with me, in our home, in my arms. You don’t have to go through this alone anymore, sweetheart. And I will spend the rest of our lifetime replacing every harsh word you say about yourself if that’s what it takes to prove you are worthy of my love and I will never leave you.”

You threw your arms around him and nuzzled into his neck. “I love you too, Cass. Thank you. I love you-“ your voice cracked as the raw emotion took over your chest. Cauldron, you loved him. How does he always know what you need to hear? He had learned a thing or two from the Spymaster, no doubt.

“Shhh. I got you,” he said as he tightened the arm around your waist and cradled your head with the other. “I love you so much.” He kissed the side of your head. “I’m so sorry about today. Let’s never fight again, agreed,” he asked with a chuckle.

You smiled as you inhaled his scent of snow, sandalwood, and burning fires. Safe. You were safe here, with your mate. In his arms where you always belonged. “Agreed.”

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (5) - Confrontation

Summary: Living under the same roof as Astarion was proving to me more of a challenge than you had anticipated.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: Nightmare. Hurt/Comfort. Innuendo. Heavy use of sarcasm hahaha.

Word count: 4.4k

Previous chapter. Ao3. Series Masterlist

If anyone had suggested a few days ago that you'd find yourself living under the same roof as Astarion, you would have called them delusional and point them to the nearest infirmary for a mental check.

But the wheels of fate turned in mysterious ways, and a mere glance at the man sitting across from you was proof enough of that.

The flames swirling and crisping in the nearby fireplace cast the most delicate yellow and orange tint on his pale complexion as he flipped the pages of a book you had lent him.

You had tried to focus on your own reading, but you just couldn't help but to occasionally shift your gaze to him.

Gods… it was nigh criminal how handsome this man was.

It was as if he had been hand-carved by someone intended on wreaking havoc in the name of beauty.

And, as far as you were concerned, they had thoroughly succeeded.

Suddenly, he lifted his head and he met your gaze dead-on, unblinkingly.

So handsome…

A cold shiver ran up the back of your neck, but you found herself unable to look away. It was as if, in that moment, you had managed to block out everything around you but him. The longer you stared at him, the more acutely you felt detached from reality.

“May I kiss you?”

You blinked a few times. “What?”

His eyes narrowed, one eyebrow raised in sheer perplexity.

“No need to look so offended, darling,” he said with a scoff, rising from his seat and snatching the candle holder from the table to your right. “I was merely asking for this. I apologise if the request is out of the realm of your ‘one hundred good deeds I must perform before I perish’ list.”

You blinked again.

What?

You glanced around, but judging from the lack of reaction from both Gale and Shadowheart, you figured that maybe he hadn't actually asked to kiss you.

Great. Now I'm hallucinating…

He returned to his padded chair with a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, I've seen more light in the deepest corners of the Shadowlands.”

Maybe sleep deprivation was finally taking its toll on you, rendering you delirious.

Regardless, the illusion had been enough to flare your heart, and you hurriedly focused your attention on the book in your hands.

“I had quite forgotten how peacefully silent it can be without having you around, Astarion.” Shadowheart spoke as she tended to a few rolls of parchment and letters.

“Well, you can thank Wyll for that.”

She ignored him. “All you do is complain.”

You felt a storm brewing on the horizon as you lifted your eyes to glance at him.

Astarion let out a cynical laugh. “You're one to speak.”

Shadowheart was now scowling. Deeply.

“Besides, that is a rather disingenuous accusation. Want proof?” he asked, clearing his throat. “So, Gale - what are you reading that has you scribbling about like a mad man?”

The wizard snapped out of his nose-deep dive and brought his quill to a halt with a beaming smile. “Glad you ask, my friend. ‘A Visual Guide to Baldur's Gate's Exquisite Cuisine’. First edition. Hand-signed by the finest chefs in the city. What a marvel, indeed.”

As expected, Astarion looked as unimpressed as ever, but you interjected before he could mouth anything obtuse.

“That sounds rather exciting, Gale.”

He nodded eagerly. “A small guilty pleasure of mine, I must say. I'm taking down some notes, so that I can - hopefully - prepare some delectable dishes for us.”

Shadowheart's eyes remained fixed on Astarion as if awaiting for him to burst at any moment.

He exchanged a quick glance with you before muttering, “Unbelievable.”

“I think it's to be commended that he cares enough to try,” you said sweetly, earning a scornful glare from him. “I can't wait for you to showcase your abilities, Gale.”

“My sentiments exactly, dear friend.”

Astarion chuckled darkly. “‘Abilities’ as in setting the kitchen ablaze, or…”

You shot him a death glare.

He shrugged. “You two are a match made in the hells.”

This had you snap your book closed with a loud thud, eyeing him defiantly. “So what constitutes an engaging reading to you, Astarion? Murderous ploys?”

His lips curled into a devious smile. “Something along those lines. Although I do enjoy indulging in some debauchery from time to time.”

You weren't sure Gale would set the kitchen ablaze with his cooking skills, but Astarion's blunt and crass words sure did that to your cheeks.

Shadowheart scoffed.

“There are some interesting books in my collection,” he continued, clearly enjoying your loss of composure. “I will gladly lend you some… or maybe offer a guided tour through my favourite pieces?”

You needed to change the subject.

Fast.

You were most definitely fighting a losing battle.

This was Astarion's playground, and he would always come out victorious.

“Must you always resort to such vulgarity?” Shadowheart sneered, shaking her head in disapproval.

“I'm afraid the city is fresh out of those who know how to properly enjoy themselves, and we can't all be dullards, darling.”

You cleared your throat. “So, Gale… you're leaving for Waterdeep soon enough.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Yes. If all goes well, we shall have access to the Wish spell soon enough, my vampling friend.”

Astarion crossed his arms. “Finally some progress.”

“Maybe you should be more thankful.” You said with a frown.

“As should you,” he shot back. “No more need to offer your blood to me.”

Fair enough.

“Much to your disappointment, I imagine.” Shadowheart chimed in.

But before he could retort, you heard a rising commotion outside that only came to a halt as the front door burst open.

Lae'zel came through, carrying what appeared to be a very much deceased wild boar across her shoulders as if it was nothing more than a sack of feathers.

She kicked the door shut at once, nostrils flaring. “Tsk'va! What are those two doing outside?”

“House arrest.” Astarion informed.

Bringing the carcass to the kitchen table, Lae'zel locked eyes with you, visibly annoyed.

“I had plans to rescue you from that prison. And I would have had it my way had it not been for Gale and his… morals.”

Gale bolted from his seat, suddenly looking rather distressed. “Lae'zel, we've spoken about this before and agreed not to bring bleeding carcasses into our home.”

She glared at him. “You alone agreed to it - I had no part in it.”

He gave her an exasperated look, picking up a piece of cloth to wipe away the strands of blood that had begun to run along the wooden surface.

“If this falls on the carpet, it will be a nightmare to remove the stains.”

Astarion tutted. “Darling, that carpet is so hideous that being splattered with carrion blood would be a vast improvement.”

You rose to your feet, rushing to join Lae's zel, who quickly placed her hand on your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

Your lips tugged into a genuine smile.

To her, this was the equivalent of ‘I am glad you're safe and I care for you’ and it warmed your heart beyond measure.

Naturally, Astarion quickly joined your side, earning Lae'zel's disdainful gaze.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, it was a two-for-one type of deal, wasn't it?” Astarion mocked, turning to you. “Free one criminal and get two on house arrest.”

Unfortunately for Astarion, Lae'zel had little patience to entertain his sarcastic remarks and merely scoffed.

“I would have easily rescued from that prison, you know?” She gave your shoulder another squeeze and you nodded. “Those frail guards are no match for a githyanki.”

“On that much we can agree.” He mused.

She gave him a stern look. “I would have left you there.”

“We fought a giant brain, a scheming squid, and a whole parade of lunatics side by side, in case you've forgotten, my dear nest of vipers friend,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe you ought to show more gratitude.”

You expected her to snap at him, but she merely pressed her lips and gave him a nod.

That would be as far as she'd go, though.

“Well, as much as I enjoy this ‘family’ reunion, I'm off to my room,” Shadowheart said from a distance, already heading towards the staircase. “Please do not maim each other in my absence - there's only so much healing I can provide.”

You chuckled and she smiled warmly at you.

“Say, Lae'zel…” Astarion started, circling the boar with utmost interest. “I would hate for perfectly adequate blood to go to waste.”

The implication in his words wasn't subtle at all, and she groaned. “I thought you feeding on our friend was enough.”

Your stomach lurched violently.

He scoffed. “There is no such thing as ‘enough’ blood for a vampire. Besides, she's the main course… this would be more of an aperitif, if you will.”

Now, you felt positively sick to your core.

A wave of nausea and repulsion gripped you tight.

“It would be a mutually beneficial situation - I save Gale from a mental breakdown, sparing you tue ordeal, and I also get to quench my hunger.”

Gale grumbled something in agreement.

But you felt the sudden wish to be swallowed whole by some magical hole in the ground.

The way he referred to you as nothing more than food prompted a visceral reaction from you, and you feared you might empty the contents of your stomach from it alone.

“Um… I'll go get some sleep… I'm too tired,” you said dismissively, already pacing towards the corridor that led to your room. “Have a good night.”

Astarion called after you, but you didn't bother looking back.

But before you could turn the doorknob, you heard light steps approaching and firm fingers gripping your forearm.

Astarion.

His face was void of any amusement. “You're upset.”

You pulled free from his grasp. “A neat observation. No wonder you're such a skilled rogue.”

His brows furrowed lightly. “What's the matter?”

“It seems that I'm only worthy of your attention when it comes to you treating me as nothing but a meal, to hurl your sarcastic remarks at. Oh - and unless I'm on the verge of death,” you said, counting on each finger.

He seemed quite taken aback, his features twisting into a scowl. “You really adore selling yourself short, don't you?”

“You won't even deny it.”

“Then what sort of attention do you want from me?” He asked, taking a step closer, the sudden proximity catching you off-guard. “Do enlighten me.”

You glared at him in silence for a moment, vaguely wondering how the two of you had gotten to this point in your relationship, where everything seemed so… off.

Astarion was standing in front of you, but it wasn't truly him.

He was there, but not really.

He seemed so detached from the Astarion you had fallen for, and a part of you loathed that you had allowed yourself to get so attached to him in the first place.

Eventually, you heaved a deep sigh as he awaited your reply. “The sort of attention I don't have to beg for.”

His face softened briefly and he parted his lips only to press them close together again as if he had decided against speaking.

Right.

You swallowed hard. “Have a good night.”

The hopeful part of you half-expected him to stop you from walking away as you closed the door behind you, but he did no such thing.

You pressed your back against it, taking a deep breath, feeling as if you had just lost something.

Had you been too dramatic?

Did it even matter at this point?

Maybe it was better off this way.

You moved to scrub your face clean in the washbasin, preparing yourself to get some rest before the morning came.

Whatever was of your relationship with Astarion would have to wait for you to be able to think more clearer.

Slipping into your nightdress, you allowed yourself to fall on your bed and onto your stomach with a muffled thud, wanting to do nothing more than to scream into the covers, but remained still instead.

After what felt like hours of restlessly rolling beneath the sheets, you felt your mind lighten and were able to find solace in the peace and quiet.

That was until you heard a distant voice.

A woman's voice.

Her voice.

“Go on. Bleed her dry for me…”

You felt the mattress dip slightly and your eyes snapped open only to find Astarion baring his fangs.

And then he was on you, pinning you frozen with both hands.

“No - stop! Get off!”

He didn't hold back and you felt a familiar sting tear through your neck, his cold lips sprawling across your skin.

“She's so pathetic. Just kill her. Put her out of her misery.”

“Get off!” You cried out, feeling his weight pinning you down.

He didn't waver and you felt your blood being drained from you alarmingly fast as you tried your best to yank free from his vicious grip.

You were going to die.

He was going to kill you.

“Stop! Please - Astarion!”

Something was squeezing your shoulder and you tried to squirm away from the increasing pressure.

You felt him chuckle in amusement against your skin and that was what killed you first.

“ASTARION!”

The grip on you kept on increasing and you realised someone was shaking you.

“Wake up.”

How was he speaking whilst fiercely feeding on you?

Were you already dead?

Your cries turned into uncontrollable sobs and you felt like breathing was no longer an option.

“Wake up!”

The shove against your shoulder was too fierce this time, and you jolted violently, feeling the pressure on top of you only faintly ease.

“Get the fuck off me!”

You tried to conjure a spell - any spell - that might help you set yourself free.

He called out your name and your eyes snapped open at once, only to see Astarion hovering over you, hand now pressed firmly against your lips, muffling your sobs.

Bergamot.

Rosemary.

Aged brandy.

It was him.

He was there.

The nightmare faded with each passing second, and, for the longest time, all you could hear were your laboured breaths as you struggled to step into reality.

Your eyes were blurred from the tears welling up, and you watched his lips part to utter something, but the pounding in your ears prevented you from understanding a single word.

He eventually dropped the hand from your mouth, staring at you with an understanding look on his face.

“You're safe."

For a split second, you wondered if this was truly your Astarion, and once you asserted that it was truly him sitting beside you, you pushed yourself from the mattress, looping your arms around his neck.

He took you in his arms, gently pressing his lips to your temple.

“You're safe. I'm here and I've got you."

You couldn't stop the tears from streaming down as you pressed your face to his shoulder, seeking any sliver of comfort he could spare you.

The door to your room burst open.

“What happened? What did you do?”

Shadowheart's accusatory tone ground on your already fragile nerves.

“She was having a nightmare.”

His cool hand came to the back of your head, further pressing you into him.

“Oh. Another one…”

You felt your heartbeat soothe and your breathing gradually even out.

But his embrace felt too much like coming home for you to part from him, so you didn't, allowing him to rock you gently in his arms.

“It's become more frequent as of late.” She said with a hint of sadness to her voice.

Astarion kept his lips pressed to your temple, grounding you.

You eventually pulled back from him with a loud sniffle. “I'm fine. I am sorry I worried you…”

Shadowheart approached you, kindness on her face. “Nonsense. I am here for you - we are here for you,” she added, glancing at Astarion. “Always.”

“I'll just try to get some rest… you two may go…” you stammered in between a few sobs.

Shadowheart didn't move and neither did Astarion.

You rubbed your puffy and wet eyes. “I mean it. It will be fine.”

“Very well,” Shadowheart drawled out reluctantly. “But please let me know if there is anything I can help with.”

You gave her a reassuring nod paired with a comforting smile.

She returned the gesture and excused herself, clicking the door shut behind her.

Your gaze shifted to him. “You can leave, too.”?

He scoffed. “No.”

“What?”

“You'll have to stake me.”

You were utterly confused by his perseverance.

“I am fine, Astarion. I am thankful for your help, but… you don't have to stay.”

He nodded. “I don't have to, but I want to.”

Your heart clenched tightly in your chest.

And then your eyes fell to his shoulder.

“Oh, my…” you winced at the sight of the soppy fabric of his shirt. “I'm sorry for that…”

He looked confused at first, but followed your line of sight and smiled. “Was this an excuse to get me out of my shirt?”

His playful jab immediately had you chuckle, rolling your eyes at him.

“Not to mention that I've been covered in all sorts of your bodily fluids,” he went on, earning a surprised glare from you. “This might be my…” he paused brielfy, as if evaluating his options. “Ah - my third favourite, yes.”

You should have known better than to take the evident glare, but you could really use the distraction.

“What are the first two, then?”

You hadn't even realised your nightdress had come undone at the front until he reached out to pull back the sleeve that had slid down your arm.

Glancing down, you couldn't help the rush of heat on your cheeks as your breasts were barely covered at all.

“Blood, naturally,” he said in a low voice, tying each set of strings with unmatched dexterity, keeping your modesty preserved. “And your-”

But before he could reply, you quickly pressed your forefinger to his lips, eyes widening as you felt him smile under your touch and pressing a soft kiss.

You felt as though you might implode.

His hands moved up your chest, tying up the last knots.

“There - all neatly wrapped up like a nice little gift.” He said, amusement coating his words.

He was too good at getting under your skin.

More than you were willing to admit, especially out loud.

“Thank you for making me laugh.” You said truthfully, pushing aside how he had so easily made you feel all heated up.

“I aim to please.”

His words hit you like a thousand knives.

“You're more than that…” You said, wanting to reassure him that he didn't need to resort to honeyed words and calculated moves to create a meaningful connection with someone.

But your statement had the opposite effect, and he frowned slightly.

“Don't. Do not start…”

You swallowed and nodded in understanding. “I didn't mean to offend.”

He shook his head, adjusting the fabric of your nightdress over your shoulders. “You didn't. I merely do not wish to make this about me.”

You were slightly taken aback.

“I know all too well the burden of nightmares,” he explained. “Even if elves don't indulge in conventional sleep, we are still prone to nightmares when we trance.”

Oh.

“And I would hate for you to be plagued like that.”

You lowered your gaze, feeling extremely exposed all of a sudden.

“So tell me, darling, when did these start?” He asked, shifting closer to you. “And why were you screaming my name?”

You felt a lump swell in your throat.

He placed his finger under your chin, and pressed upwards until your eyes met his.

“What haunts you?”

You.

“Can we just… not…” You asked, already feeling tears prickling in the corners of your eyes.

Reason told you that a heartfelt conversation with Astarion was long overdue, but you didn't feel ready.

You still felt too startled and too vulnerable.

He had hurt you in more ways than one, even if unconsciously done at times.

“We don't have to talk about it.”

You nodded, a few tears rolling down. “Thank you.”

“We can push all of that aside, even if just for tonight.”

Your heart hammered fast inside you.

He then cradled your face in his hands, leaning in to press his lips to each cheek, kissing your tears away.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he trailed down, inching closer to your lips.

A shudder coursed throughout your entire body, barely able to contain the anticipation.

Please kiss me…

His thumbs rubbed slow circles on your flushed cheeks and your lips parted as his ghosted yours.

Astarion…

Almost there.

You could almost taste him.

Your hands came to grip his wrists tightly, silently urging him to take you.

Please… please…

As your heart thudded faster and faster, you gasped when he quickly kissed the tip of your nose before pressing his lips to your forehead.

You couldn't deny the overwhelming wave of disappointment that washed over you, even if, deep down, you realised it was probably the best course of action, considering how vulnerable you still felt from the nightmare.

A few more tears spilled over, which he quickly brushed away before pulling back.

“I can stay until you fall asleep.”

Your heart dropped.

Everything was conditional with him.

It was always meant to come to an end, eventually.

He would stay with you… but only until you drifted off to another nightmare, perhaps.

It was as if he couldn't simply stay with you.

You shook your head with a sniffle, letting go of him. “No. You can go… but thank you for this.”

“I can stay.”

“... until I fall asleep.” You finished his sentence.

He nodded, eyes locking with yours. “Or for as long as you need me.”

You felt ridiculous from the way your heart immediately skipped a beat.

“Will you hug me?”

He shifted back against the headboard and sprawled his arms out to you with a sly grin. “Come here, darling.”

For a brief moment, you saw your Astarion again.

Open and caring.

You scooted over to rest your body against his, smiling softly as he placed his arm around you, trailing absent-minded caresses along your arm.

His coldness felt comfortable even in the dead of night, and you wrapped your arm around his torso, enjoying the silence.

“Am I too cold?”

You're perfect.

You shook your head vehemently.

But he still reached out to grab the blanket at your feet, draping over your frame.

“You are shivering, you fool.” He whispered and you could hear the smile in his remark.

You snuggled up against him, wishing you could freeze this moment in time.

Slowly but surely, and lulled by his caresses, you felt exhaustion take over, your eyelids feeling progressively heavier.

Maybe this was all a dream.

Maybe you'd wake up only to find that this had never happened.

That you hadn't felt your Astarion once again.

His chin was resting atop your head and your heart skipped yet another beat.

“Astarion?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened to us…”

The hand on your arm stilled for a moment and he hushed you. “Just rest.”

Your eyelids did feel heavy, and you could recognise your own brain fighting away your sleep, but you still wanted to know.

You needed to know what had gone so terribly wrong.

Especially when the man holding you in his arms had just provided immeasurable comfort.

“I miss you… us…” You heard yourself mumble under your breath.

He did utter something unintelligible, but you were far too exhausted to ask for a repeat.

Your warm body slumped against his cold one as he lulled you into sleep with the rhythmic caresses on your back.

It seemed that this time, your nightmare had started and ended with him.

Morning came and he was gone.

Of course he was.

Even with your windows barred from the sun, he had still chosen to leave.

He had tucked you under the bedsheets and warm blankets.

You had nearly forgotten what a good night of sleep was ever since the nightmares had taken root in your mind.

His scent lingered all around you and it was impossible to escape it.

You eventually pushed yourself up to sit in silence, going over the events of a couple of hours ago.

Why did he always leave in the end?

Why couldn't you just bring yourself to move on from him?

You could have taken the time to open up to him about how you felt, but you were so afraid to push him away.

He had his own vulnerabilities and he didn't need yours weighing him down, too.

You lazily scrambled out of bed, slipping into your robe, ready for a new day.

As you made your way down the corridor, you began to hear heated voices coming from the kitchen.

“Must we all live in darkness because of you?”

You found Astarion sitting by the table, seemingly unbothered by Lae'zel's snarky remarks, the room plunged in darkness, keeping the scorching sun at bay.

“Oh please, feel free to address your complaints to the Grand Duke.”

Gale saw you first and offered a warm smile. “How are you feeling, my friend?”

You hugged yourself, forcing a smile. “I am well, thank you.”

Astarion turned his head to you, annoyance giving way to a sliver of concern. “Did you manage to get some rest?”

You nodded, your heart immediately reacting to his presence.

“Shall I brew some chamomile tea?” Gale offered eagerly, moving about the kitchen to gather the supplies.

“Thank you,” you said, glancing around. “Where is Shadowheart?”

“She headed out to the apothecary,” Gale said, placing the kettle by the fireplace. “She's keen on helping you out with these nightmares.”

Guilt hit you.

Of course she had.

Shadowheart had held your hand through so many perils, yet you couldn't help but to feel guilty that she was searching for help when the solution to your problem was right in front of you.

And he kept glaring at you, as if studying your every move.

A soft knock on the front door snapped you from your thoughts, and you went to push it open, revealing the visitor.

No.

No fucking way.

You immediately slammed the door shut, feeling rage swirl inside you.

“Who is it?” Gale asked.

“No one.”

Then your gaze met Astarion's whose eyebrow was arched in confusion.

“That is no way to treat a guest.” The woman outside chirped happily.

Ava.

Next chapter: Broken - November 26

Series Masterlist . I don't keep taglists, so feel to follow this story on Ao3 🩷

[wandasaura]

SEE WHATS UNDER THAT ATTITUDE

summary — wanda intends to keep the promise she made to you, but that doesn’t mean you won’t have to work to earn it

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, heavy on the mommy kink, subspace, entrance of the oral fixation, degradation, praise, dumbification, light humiliation, fingering, ¿light nipple torture?, definitely nipple stimulation, teasing, edging, orgasm control, mention of orgasm denial, begging, crying, fake sympathy, biting, oral sex, overstimulation, forced orgasm, aftercare, men/minors dni

authors note — there are some russian exchanges between wandanat toward the beginning, i’ll add translations for at the end but if they’re not correct, blame google translate. this was highly requested so i hope it’s everything you’ve been waiting for!

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff

The bed had been abandoned when you finally came to consciousness. The room was dark, the blinds drawn over the windows and blocking out sunlight, but the peaks of gold that kissed the trim around the windowsill was enough to gauge how late in the morning it was. The first sensation that crossed your mind was the lingering ache on the skin where Wanda’s had unforgivingly struck you half a hundred times, the second sensation that registered was the soft throb in your core that had been left unsatisfied hours earlier. A quiet whine rolled past your lips, filling the silent room with sound that was left unanswered. Your head still felt like it was filled with cotton, thoughts still hazy and disoriented. 

Leaving the bedroom behind was a decision made lightly, but the absence of blankets over your shoulders felt like the cruelest punishment as you descended toward the living room. Wanda didn’t work in the office on Friday’s, or at least she tried not to most weeks. Typical Friday’s were spent in quiet company, if Natasha’s stories proved truthful, but the few times you’d spent the day in Westview had come with silence from the redhead who spent hours holed up in her office. It hadn't occurred to you then that she busied herself to avoid you, but with the only indication of her presence in the house coming from the laugh track behind some old eighties sitcom, you realized this was more typical of her routine. 

Your footsteps were soft; careful and easy. It wasn’t intentional, nothing felt intentional in this state, but the sweetness of your mood could not be pushed further than soft taps of naked skin and quiet hums that tried to be words but fell flat. Wanda’s head craned in the direction of the stairs when she’d first heard the door creak on its hinges, counting down the seconds until you came into view. It was late, late enough for breakfast to have been eaten and dishes to have been washed, but even one glimpse at you could tell that you were still beneath the confines of subspace. She wasn’t surprised, slightly concerned, but not entirely surprised. She had pushed you farther than anyone ever had last night, careful of boundaries that had been set but still firm with her hand and treatment. She had forced you into submission in a manner that was unkind and dominant, she was not expecting you to stumble down the stairs in a clear state of mind, but the sight of your naked chest still bare of a shirt indicated just how far deep you were. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” She smiled at you warmly, and you frowned in confusion when she didn’t incline her head toward the couch. You needed her to tell you what to do, wanted her to keep her grip on the reins and hold them tightly. Sensing your distress at this new sense of control, Wanda frowned realizing that her soft approach would not work you through this limbo. “Come here, baby.” The permission to approach that you had been waiting for finally came, and your feet that wouldn’t carry you forward without it started to move toward her again. 

You stood in front of her with a silent question in mind, but Wanda was not willing to budge without the presence of your words. She needed to get you up, and coddling you was only a recipe for disaster. “Is there something you need, sweetheart?” Her approach was gentle, yet firm. Any harder and she would find the opposite effect of what she intended. 

You nodded pleadingly, fingers coming up to sit in your mouth the same way hers had been last night. The sensation wasn’t the same, not even close, and that seemed to be too much to handle at this moment because tears that Wanda would deem ‘crocodile tears’ glimmered in your eyes. Even as your reserve crumbled, fingers falling back down to your sides and curling into the soft cotton of Natasha’s sleep shorts, she didn’t waver. 

“Words, honey. I know you know how to use them. You used them very well last night.” Wanda tutted, shaking her head at your behavior dismissively. Your mouth opened and closed as you shifted through the haze in your thoughts attempting to string together a coherent sentence that articulated your wants to her. 

When no more than a single word came to mind, you decided that had to be good enough, and nimbly you forced it past your chapped lips and into the space between your bodies, hoping it was loud enough to reach her ears, “Hold.” 

A smile pulled at the corners of Wanda’s lips and she nodded at you encouragingly. “Of course I’ll hold you, sweetheart.” She pulled her arms away from the closed off position she had been maintaining, opening her posture up for your added weight. 

You settled contently against her chest, your legs thrown over her hips. The position allowed relief to come to the sore skin on your bottom, and you hummed in satisfaction at the newfound release. Wanda laughed softly when a look of blissful realization settled on your dazed features, and her nails took full advantage of your exposed back as she placed feather light scratches to your spine. Natasha was fond of being held like this after an intense session, so it was no shock that you had come to like it too. Your head fell onto Wanda’s shoulder, just above the place where her heart sat. 

“Nat!” Wanda called for her wife; said wife that you had yet to locate as the rest of the house sat in perfect silence. Natasha wasn’t a loud person, quite quiet actually, but there hadn’t even been an inkling in your mind that she lingered somewhere close, just barely out of sight. Your thoughts had been a one track road to Wanda, but at the call of Natasha’s name you were desperate for her all the same. 

You picked your head up from Wanda’s shoulder, searching the room for any trace of Natasha that you could have possibly missed. Wanda smiled at your clear adoration for her wife, but guided your head back down to her chest when she noticed the thick haze coming over your eyes once more. She hadn’t had the pleasure of treating anyone with such tender dominance in years. Natasha was hard to break down to this point, her unwillingness to fully submit a persistent mental barrier, and Wanda was thankful to be useful in this way.

When Natasha appeared, blue light glasses keeping red hair from falling into her eyes, you realized that the reason she had been so hard to spot was because she was hidden away in the dining room, a place the couple rarely sat if it wasn’t for a meal.

“Yeah?” She asked, clearly confused about why Wanda had called for her instead of seeking her out physically, but when her eyes trailed to find her wife’s, she noticed your position against the Sokovian’s chest and a smug smirk pulled at her lips. Even if the bet hadn’t been made, she had still won. “Ona vse yeshche daleko vnizu, da?” 

Wanda nodded her head at the question asked in Russian, her hand resuming its delicate scratching along your back. You hadn’t realized you had missed the feeling until it reappeared higher up your spine, but when it did and you weren’t expecting it, you shivered away instinctively. Wanda didn’t take your initial flinch as a reason to stop, and you were thankful because when she persisted, you melted into the touch. “Da, ty poydesh' za odnoy iz svoikh tolstovok? V obozrimom budushchem ya budu zapert zdes'.” 

It could have been hours that you sat in silence with Wanda, or it could have been minutes, you honestly weren’t too sure about the passing of time around you, but you knew that you felt cared for, and you knew that you felt loved. You hadn’t understood the words that had been spoken in Russian over top of your head, but when Natasha had let her feet carry her upstairs and into the bedroom, you realized they’d been about you. The hoodie she came down with was soft, and Wanda had helped you into it with a practiced ease. That had been the most movement that had come from you, but Wanda didn’t make a fuss about your chosen stillness. She merely set her eyes on the reruns of old sitcoms, and occasionally whispered something sweet to you that required no verbal response. Somewhere in that mix, you had begun to bite at her shoulder, content to find that the sensation was the same pleasurable one you had found last night, and she hadn’t stopped you from further discovering it. It was when your head had finally cleared that you recognized the signs of hunger in your belly, remembering that dinner had been all but forgotten about last night, and when you pulled away from Wanda, her first instinct was to guide you right back down. 

“I’m hungry.” You had protested her guidance, pushing against the hand that cradled the back of your head tenderly until she finally allowed you to sit straight up like you wanted. 

“You back with me, dorogaya?” She double-checked, not wanting to blindly take your first coherent sentence as proof that you were fully functioning. She wanted to avoid a subdrop, knowing that it was a less than pleasurable experience and had caused Natasha a thick bout of depressive thoughts the one and only time she had failed to communicate her needs before they spiraled into darkness. 

“Yeah.” Despite the clearness of your head, your words were still soft. The only time you ever came across harshly was when you tried to go toe to toe with Wanda. The redhead smiled at your affirmation, guiding you off her lap but not fully releasing control over to you just yet. She grabbed your hand, leading you into the kitchen where pots and pans dried on the mat beside the sink. You pouted, realizing that either her or Natasha had made pancakes and eggs for breakfast, and neither had woken you up to join in on the fun. “You had pancakes without me?” Was the first question that rolled off your tongue, and Wanda shook her head in bemusement that pancakes were your only concern. 

“Your body needed the rest, moya lyubov’. I can make you some now if you want.” Wanda suggested, helping you up onto the counter despite your proven capability to do it yourself just fine. You didn’t shrug off her help, rather leaned into it, and pulled her in close when she dared to try and step away. You dropped your head onto her shoulder, feeling a desperate need to have her close. And again if she minded, she didn’t show it. 

“I want cereal.” You decided, knowing that the women had cheerios shoved in the back of the pantry beside an unopened box of popcorn that you couldn’t quite place who it had been bought for. You didn’t know why they even bothered to buy anything that came in a box, considering in the near year that you had been frequenting the Maximoff residence you hadn’t seen them eat anything that wasn’t made on the stove, but right now it sounded like the perfect source of energy. 

“That’s all?” Wanda frowned, prying your face away from her shoulder and forcing you to look into her eyes. You melted into her touch when she set her gaze on you firmly, pliant and willing in her grip. You hummed, your tongue poking out and swiping at the pad of her thumb that sat within licking distance on your cheeks. “That’s not going away anytime soon, huh?” Wanda laughed softly, pulling her hands away before you could get any bolder. She’d had her suspicions about your oral fixation, something was always in your mouth whether you realized it or not, it was truly only a matter of time before you realized how fun it was to have one of them between your teeth. 

“Please?” You pouted, making puppy eyes at the pantry where the box of cheerios remained hidden. Wanda relented, her green eyes rolling backward into her head. 

“You’re eating dinner tonight, milaya moya.” You merely shrugged at the compromise, simply glad to have gotten your way for now at the very least. She tapped your thigh in warning of her approaching absence, and though you had expected it to come if you wanted your cheerios, a whine still fell from your lips when she pulled away, instantly missing the warmth she provided.  

You’d started to slip down from the counter when Wanda turned back around, only halfway to a pantry before you’d decided she’d been gone long enough. “Stay there, Mommy didn’t tell you that you could move.” The firmness that you had sought for earlier sent a rush of something different through your body hearing it now, but still eager to comply with her demands, you scooted back up onto the counter and tried your best to ignore the lingering ache in your untouched clit. You remembered her promise, remembered how she had so cruelly worked you up and left you dry. You didn’t think you could go another night with the sticky feeling between your thighs. 

“Do you want milk with your cheerios, detka?” Wanda asked, her voice slightly muffled by the walls of the pantry that she had disappeared into. You nodded your head, forgetting that she couldn’t see you, but decided that you would just wait until she reappeared to tell her what you wanted. Words still felt too hard to grasp, and secretly you adored this special treatment that you’d never received before. When Wanda stepped out of the pantry, the familiar yellow box now in her hands, she asked again. “Do you want milk, honey?” 

You nodded softly, pulling at the string of Natasha’s hoodie though you found them rather boring. You let your feet kick against the cabinet doors beneath where you sat, trying to occupy your attention with something other than the need in your core, having a feeling it wouldn’t be satisfied until you got something into your belly. 

It was warm, too warm to be wearing a hoodie but in your foggy mindset and rush to find her, you had forgotten about the fact that you remained only half dressed. You sighed, pulling at the long sleeves until they came to your biceps, but even that couldn’t help you entirely. 

“Words, honey.” Wanda reminded you firmly, and you kicked the cabinets beneath you rather harshly in response. You wanted her close to you, and yet she was standing halfway across the kitchen with her recently freed hands on her hips. The box of cheerios was placed on the island countertop, awaiting your direction of adding milk or a bowl or now. Wanda raised a daring brow, tilting her head to the side in a manner that was admittedly intimidating. “We aren’t going to go through this again, milaya. Do you want your cheerios with milk? Yes or no?” 

“Yes.” You sighed, deflating on the counter as you itched to get down and cling onto her. You couldn’t comprehend the rush of feelings that overwhelmed your brain in the moment, but it felt like every choice you were forced to make only drove you farther and farther from a position of sanity. You wanted her to decide, wanted her to talk you through every process and choice. You were never this needy, never this dependent on somebody else, but the taste of total submission that you had been given was like a drug elementary schools never warned you about tasting. 

“Good girl.” Wanda praised your willingness to comply, already maneuvering around the kitchen to acquire a bowl and the gallon milk from the fridge. You shone beneath her words, a shy smile gracing your lips as you tilted your head down toward your lap and tried to hide the flush on your cheeks. Wanda wasn’t blind to your reaction, but she spared you the embarrassment of knowing you’d been caught. 

“Where’s Natty?” You whispered, suddenly realizing the woman was displaced from the pair of you, which was a rarity if you ever knew one. She had been in the dining room before, but now she was gone and yet her laptop remained on the table, the only object in the room that wasn’t in its perfect place. 

Wanda smiled softly at your concern, a tad surprised it had taken you this long to realize that the Russian was missing. She didn’t let you dwell in that confusion, wanting your mind focused on one thing and one thing only; her. “Pepper faxed her over some files. Nothing you need to worry about, malyshka. Come eat.” 

You wiggled down from the counter with a distinctive delicacy, a stark contrast to the usual faith you put into your ankles. Wanda appreciated your carefulness, smiling at you with unspoken praise that you had no time to hide from before she saw your faintest blush. Unlike every day that had come before this one, Wanda sat down at the island instead of gravitating toward the dining room. You brightened at the prospect of eating here, clamoring into her lap because there was absolutely no chance that you were sitting on your own. It seemed she hadn’t expected you to, because her arm tangled around your waist and her hand found its place on your thigh, dangerously close to where you wanted her most, but still too far away. 

“Mommy promised you a reward, didn’t she?” Wanda hummed, her voice laced with a sultry silkness that would’ve been enough to have you weak in the knees on it’s own, but the deadly combination of her lust and her hot breath fanning across the shell of your ear, which Natasha had discovered was incredibly sensitive, was enough to completely melt your self restraint down to nothing. 

A gasp fell from your lips, your head tilting to the side and allowing her lips all the room she needed to explore your unmarked skin. Your eyes fluttered closed, thoughts of cheerios dissipating. “Mommy.” You pleaded with her, hoping that she would relent in her teasing measures.

Her wet lips trailed down the side neck, and in the same second cold fingers bearing rings more expensive than you could even fathom moved the collar of Natasha’s hoodie out of her way. The caress of her lips didn’t last long, because as quickly as she’d began to suck a hickey on your collar bone that was sure to last at least a couple of days, she pulled away and the fingers still on your right thigh pinched the warm skin experimentally.  “Eat. What Mommy does to your body is none of your concern, little girl.” 

A guttural moan left your lips at her dismission, and although your brain was officially nothing but mush between bones, your trembling hand reached out for the spoon. The first mouthful of cheerios was rewarded by her fingers moving toward your core, the second by a sharp nip at the base of your neck. Every bite was followed by pleasure, and by the sixth, it was getting harder to think about anything other than release. 

The lack of panties between your thighs had made access to your core disturbingly easy, and when you faltered on the seventh bite of cereal, your pulsing clit was pinched harshly between fingers that were still surprisingly cold. Your hips twitched in her lap, your head falling back onto her shoulder as you surrendered to the pleasure the sharp sensation had provided. Wanda hummed, taking your body's reaction into account for a later date. 

“You’re not cumming until you finish eating. I suggest you keep going unless you want to find out how cruel I can be, malyshka.” It wasn’t a threat, but rather a promise, and you whimpered pathetically at the sharp bite to her words that satisfied every craving in your body. 

“Mommy.” You pleaded when a single one of her deliciously slender fingers threatened to penetrate your weeping hole, toying with the wetness that had already dampened the pajama shorts on your hips. 

“Shh, Mommy’s playing.” Wanda redirected your attention to the bowl of cereal that had become soggy in the minutes it had taken you to even make the smallest dent. You swallowed down a cry of frustration at her unwillingness to fold, but raised the spoon to your lips and forced your mouth to comply with her demands. 

Every bite felt heavy and horrible against your tongue, but you somehow managed to persevere, even as her fingers wandered beneath the thick fabric of the hoodie and sought out to find your nipples that had been ignored thus far. At the first brush of her metal rings against your flushed skin you gasped, thankful that you had held off on taking another bite of your lunch because otherwise you would have choked. 

“Such pretty sounds, milaya.” Wanda cooed, her lips back against the shell of your ear. Her tongue dared to lick at the skin of your neck, a stream of cold air sending shivers and shocks of pleasure shooting down your spine. “Do you like it when Mommy touches you? Huh? Do you like it when I play with this desperate little pussy however I please?” 

“Please.” You writhed in pleasure, your eyes screwed shut impossibly tight. The single finger buried deep within your walls had quickly become two, and they curled against your softest spot with accuracy that should’ve concerned you had you been any more coherent than you were. Her pace was teasing, slow and unfulfilling, but that was entirely the point. “M-Mommy please!” 

“Mommy’s not going to tell you no again. Little girls don’t get to make decisions. Little girls wait for Mommy to give them permission, and until she does so, they take what they’re offered.” You cried out in painful pleasure when Wanda sadistically twisted your nipple between her fingers, the sensation shooting right down to your core that wept around her fingers and squeezed them tight. “You can do that, can’t you? Be good for Mommy? Or are you just a dumb little baby?” 

“I-I can! I can!” Despite the desperate need for more of anything she was willing to give you, your body tried pleadingly to arch away from her touch when your nipples became too sensitive to handle the sting she caused unforgivingly. 

“How do you want Mommy to make you cum? With my fingers, or maybe my mouth? Do you want me to fuck this slutty cunt with a strap-on, are is that too much for my little baby to handle? Oh I bet you're so sensitive, kotenok. Nobody’s ever denied this pretty pussy before, have they?” Wanda’s fingers pointedly avoided your clit, and you're absolutely certain that one accidental touch would have you falling over the edge and into blinding pleasure. 

“No!” You sobbed in frustration, your hips meeting her thrusts and she let you, knowing nothing she did would send you over that sought after edge until she let her fingers brush against your pulsing bundle of nerves. She had you right where she wanted you, right where you needed to be, even if you hadn’t realized this was the treatment you’d been wanting just yet. 

“Oh, my poor girl. You still have so much to learn.” Wanda cooed though her sympathy was anything but genuine. You pushed the bowl away from you, shaking your head desperately, just needing her to take care of you. “You did so good.” Wanda kissed the side of your head, but her actions contradicted the praise she had fleetingly bestowed upon you. Her fingers left your aching core, effectively edging you as if that had been her goal all along. She smears strings of your arousal against the insides of your sensitive thighs, drying her fingers on your skin. You cried out at the loss of pleasure, desperately grabbing her wrist and attempting to draw it back closer, but she didn’t allow you to win. “I’m not taking you in the kitchen, milaya. You deserve better than that.” 

She guided you to your feet easily, a firm hand on your back the only thing that kept you upright when your knees threatened to buckle beneath your full weight. You grabbed at her hand desperately, wanting to keep her close as she led you through the house and up the stairs. Throughout the journey, her lips had found entertainment in seeking out soft spots on your neck that had been otherwise neglected in the kitchen. A shaky moan fell from off the tip of your tongue when her teeth nipped at the edge of your jaw, and in that moment you had forgotten how to walk as you stood stock still and stiff as a board in the middle of the stairs, leaning backward into her touch pleading for more.

“Keep going. Mommy will take care of you soon.” Wanda coaxed, and desperate to listen, you complied with the request, hoping that this time around, soon actually meant what it was supposed to. 

When you passed by Natasha’s office, where you suspected the woman had migrated to work on the files that Pepper had sent over, the door was closed and light peaked out from the cracks between floor and white oak. You barely had time to pout about her absence before Wanda was pulling you in the direction of the bedroom, simultaneously making quick work of getting you free of the clothes that you drowned in so cutely. Though Natasha wasn’t much taller than you, the woman had a bad habit of buying clothes three sizes too big if they weren’t going to be worn with the intention of maintaining professional appearances. Despite how you had grown to be too hot in the hoodie that covered your torso, the initial absence of it had caused a rush of cold to assault your spine and you shivered beneath Wanda’s heavy hands. Your shorts were the last thing to fall to the floor in a heap. 

“So pretty, malyskha.” Wanda praised your fully naked body, running a single feather light touch down the front of you, starting just below your chin, down between the valley of your breasts, and stopped only just before your throbbing clit begging for release. You gasped and moaned at the ticklish sensations she so easily provoked, chasing her touch when it vanished too quickly. “So responsive too. Mommy’s going to have so much fun playing with you.” 

“Please!” You sobbed, wide eyes filled with desperation and need that only she could quench. Your hands trembling with lust and pent up frustration pulled at the hem of the old t-shirt adorning her body, attempting to get rid of it the same way she had done for you. 

Complying with your request, not willing to sacrifice her own desperation to fully get her hands on you any longer then she already had, Wanda stripped out of her shorts and t-shirt with ease. One too many office quickies with Natasha had forced her to become sufficient with the act of undressing, and the skills, though rusty from lack of recent use, hadn’t failed her now despite the months it had been since she’d last taken her insatiable wife on the couch in her corporate office. When she was naked, every inch of her skin available for your eyes to admire for the very first time, she leaned in to meet your lips with a kiss that was softer than she had been all day. The single action had eased your anxious thoughts, and you leaned into the embrace just as easily as she had. 

When her lips separated from yours, swollen and pink and wet with your saliva, her hand reached up to grab your chin and force your eyes on hers. “I expect you to use your safewords if you need to. This is not about me, this is about you. Do you understand me, milaya?” 

“Yes.” You breathed out desperately, your hands settling on her hips, pulling them closer when you felt like she was too far away. 

“Good. Get on the bed.” She grinned sadistically down at you, taking full advantage of the few inches she had over you. There was something dark in her eyes, something you had only gotten the shortest glimpse of last night, and you swallowed thickly as the promise of feeling her touch on your body for hours after this moment ended, but you complied with her request just as quickly as it came. There was no way you were going to go against her now, not when she had so carefully unraveled your brain and you were finally on the cusp of getting what you had long since sought after and been promised. 

You scrambled onto the center of the bed the Sokovian shared every night with the Russian, laying flush on your back with your elbows propping up your torso. Your eyes trailed Wanda’s every movement as she disappeared into the closet without a single spoken word, but knowing what lies within the four walls of the walk-in, you could only anticipate what she returned with. Desperately you rubbed your thighs together, gathering that she wouldn’t take kindly to your hand relieving the ache she created and single-handedly wanted to soothe. It hadn’t been more than three minutes before she returned, and you noted that between her legs was the presence of something pink. Her hands carried the cooling lotion she’d used last night, and the red strap-on that Natasha had pounded you with weeks ago in her office. A stuttered moan filled the quiet of the master bedroom, and ever so seductively Wanda crawled over your body on the bed, close enough for her nipples to drag against your skin, but far enough away for her lips to ghost over yours. 

“Have you decided how you want me to use you, dorogaya?” She laid her accent on thicker than you had ever heard, straddling your hips as her arms sat on either side of your head, trapping you beneath her. 

You nodded frantically, forcing your eyes to stay locked on hers, wanting to remember every inch of her face in this moment in case it was the only time you’d see it. “I want– I want your mouth. A-and your fingers.” 

“Both?” Wanda teased, her eyes glowing with dominance. “What a greedy girl. I suppose I can give you both, but it won’t come without a price. Are you willing to pay, milaya?”  

You nodded your head frantically, desperate to give her whatever she wanted from you. That seemed to please Wanda, who smirked down at you before her lips ghosted over your lips and trailed down your neck that craned instantaneously in response. Her tongue licked a bold stripe over the center of your neck, and just when you’d anticipated her to keep moving lower, she trailed back up again. This was the price, you realized quickly. She was going to tease you until you broke completely, and there was nothing you could do about it, nothing you wanted to do about it. 

Her teeth nipped and bit at your skin that had been dampened by her tongue, but she made no efforts to mark you entirely. She wasn’t interested in wasting time on leaving hickeys that would fade in days, much rather devoting her efforts and energy into making you squirm beneath her with sensations that were intense, but not strong enough to cause real pleasure. Your clit throbbed in tune with her ministrations, your entrance pulse at the emptiness. It was only when you’d started to grow accustomed to the feeling of her tongue lapping at your neck did she move lower, plush lips wrapping around your nipple and creating a ruthless seal of suction. Your back arched into her, your fingers that had been fisting the comforter shot toward her back, and blunt nails that had been bitten down to numbs scratched mercilessly at her skin. 

Wanda hummed in satisfaction at your reaction, her teeth tugging at your sensitive bud between her lips while her fingers worked on your other. She pulled teasingly, pinched evilly, and twisted when you just didn’t seem to be enjoying it as much as she wanted you to. Her goal was to have you screaming, crying out for a god that she didn’t believe to exist. There was no god in the master bedroom of the Maximoff residence, only a Sokovian lawyer consumed by nearly a year's worth of pent up lust and frustration. When she was satisfied that she had punished your right nipple enough for the time being, not wanting to cause you an exceeding amount of pain though there didn’t even seem to be a glimpse of it on your scrunched up and sweaty face, she moved her mouth to the left, and replaced what was lost by cruel fingers. 

“I wonder how long it would take for you to cum from just this.” Wanda released your nipple with a pop, speaking softly into the silence that was only attempted to be filled by the low buzz of the vibrator between her legs and your moans of intense pleasure. “Mommy’ll have to test that one day.” 

Unable to handle her teasing for another minute longer, you sobbed out in desperate need for something more, and the fingers that had successfully marked angry red lines into the once untouched skin of her back moved up to grab handfuls of her auburn hair. “Please. P-Please. Please. I need y-your mouth. I need– I need– Mommy, pozhaluysta!” 

Wanda froze at the trace of Russian that fell from your lips in a desperate attempt to persuade her into folding before she was willing. She hated to admit that it worked, and that before you could even continue to beg for mercy, her lips were kissing a wet trail down your belly until they fell firmly around your clit. A broad stripe was licked across your core, wetness collected on the tip of her tongue that she swallowed down with a needy moan of her own. A single hand reached between her legs and increased the speed of the vibrator that had been set at a teasing pace since she’d first grabbed it in the closet. 

“Okay baby. Okay. Let Mommy take care of you, no more teasing. We're all done with that.” She cooed, not giving you a single second to doubt her promise before her fingers were falling into your glistening folds just as easily as they had in the kitchen. You gasped at the initial stretch of two cold digits working you open, but her mouth distracted you when she took your clit between her teeth and tauntingly bit at your pleading bundle of nerves. The fingers coiled around strands of pin straight dyed hair pulled her closer, and your hips had adopted a mind of their own as you rocked against her face with a feverish need. Curses and moans tumbled past your lips in incoherent bundles, and just as she felt your walls clenching around her curled up fingers with the telltale indication of an approaching orgasm, the vibrator between her legs brought her to the same pace. “Hold it. Hold it for Mommy, baby.” 

You shook your head, fingers pulling her head even closer. “I can’t! Can’t, Mommy! C-Can’t.” The movements of your hips had become jerky and unpredictable, but before you could hurt yourself or her, Wanda’s hand that wasn’t buried between your legs forced you still and compliant. “I-I’m gonna– Mommy!”

“Cum for me, malyshka. Make a mess all over Mommy’s face.” Wanda’s words of encouragement thrummed against your clit, and with permission to finally unravel beneath her hands, you let the coil burning in your lower belly snap with a blinding white rush of pleasure. Her fingers didn’t stop until you were trying to push them away, and even once they left her tongue remained. Your exhausted body writhed beneath the too intense to bare pleasure, and your whines of sensitivity mixed with hers. You were actively aware of how she was moaning against your core, her hot breath an additional sensation that was quick to make you overly stimulated despite how long you’d sought for this. Her hips grinded against the blankets between her thighs, but they came to a stuttering stop seconds after your own hips tensed and stilled on their own accord. Despite her own end of pleasure, fingers sticky with your arousal pulling the toy out from her own entrance, her tongue was relentless against yours. “Shhh, let Mommy clean you up.” 

“Too much!” You cried out, going limp beneath her wandering hands, but she didn’t let up, and that coil had formed again quickly in combination with her double-downed efforts and your existing sensitivity. Wanda remained dutiful, and her tongue was undoubtedly skilled as she pulled yet another orgasm from you in a matter of minutes. This time, she did pull away, leaving a single soft kiss against your abused clit before the touch was completely gone. 

“You did so good for me, moya lyubov’. Mommy’s so proud of you.” Wanda peppered your face with kisses, touching every inch of available skin with her lips drenched in cum. You giggled at the sensation, pushing her away when your cheeks began to ache from smiling so hard. She fell onto her side beside you in the bed, arms looping around your waist and pulling you into her chest firmly. Her fingers dug into your hips, keeping you flush against her front, and the words she let meet your ears had melted your heart in seconds. “My girl.” 

“Mmm.” You sighed contently, snuggling into her with no intentions of moving away anytime soon. “Hi.” You looked up into her eyes, a drunken smile pulling the corners of your lips upward. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” Wanda giggled, taking your face into her hands and pressing a sweet kiss to the crease between your eyebrows. “What’s that thinking face for?” 

You shook your head, humming softly as you further melted into the soft bed beneath you. When her hands trailed away from where they cupped your cheeks, you took one of them between your own hands, spinning the rings adorning her fingers around her knuckles. “Not thinking. Just… happy.” 

Wanda smiled, rubbing the pad of her thumb across the only expanse of your palm that she could reach with the way you were grasping her hand so possessively. “Yeah? I’m glad you’re happy, sweetheart. I’m happy too.” 

“Your bed is comfy.” You grinned at her, bringing your fingers up to trace across her lips that had kissed every inch of your skin so intimately and passionately. You shrieked in laughter when she snapped her teeth at you, just barely catching the tip of your finger before you pulled it protectively into your chest. 

“I never would’ve guessed you find my bed comfy, little one.” Wanda teased, because obviously she knew that you did. You weren’t subtle with the ways you all but threw yourself into it whenever you were given the chance. Her sage eyes trailed behind you when she saw the slightest shift of light beneath the closed door, a shadow unwilling to enter looming behind it. “Stop hovering and just come in, Natalia.” Wanda called out to her wife, though her eyes briefly flickered down to your face when your teeth found a place around her fingers in the handful of seconds that she had been distracted. Wanda only shook her head in amusement, overly fond of your new habit. 

“Well if this isn’t my new favorite sight.” Natasha smirked her eyes trailing over both naked bodies in the center of her bed. Setting two bottles of chilled water down on her nightstand before she let her weight shift the bed, there was a silent conversation shared between the two lawyers with nothing more than eye contact and inclines of heads. Natasha’s hand brushed strands of hair away from your face that was practically smothered into Wanda’s naked chest, and she rolled her eyes adoringly when she found that you were chewing on her wife’s fingers like a puppy. “Still feeling kinda floaty, detka?” The Russian hummed, easing her body down against the headboard so that she didn’t have to remain kneeling beside you. 

Unwillingly to let Wanda’s fingers fall from your mouth, you mumbled around them carefully, not wanting to accidentally hurt her and lose this new privilege. “No.” 

“You wanna let Daddy put some more lotion on you then? It’s looking kinda red, moya lyubov’.” Natasha’s fingers tangled into the baby hairs at the nape of your neck, and she pulled at them tenderly the way she knows you like when you need a minute to decompress but don’t want to be alone. A quiet sigh slips past your lips, but it’s muffled by Wanda’s fingers before either one of them have the chance to hear it fully, though they’ve grown quite used to your muffled words and sounds seeing as half the strings on their hoodie are marked with indents of your teeth. The Sokovian teasingly wiggles the digits against your tongue, only to be met with you biting down on them in an attempt to get her to stop teasing you. 

“No biting.” She reprimands, though the sharp sensation hadn’t hurt her. You amend the mistake with a well intended suckle, shuffling even closer to her chest until the swell of her breasts blocked out the impeding sunlight. “Come here, baby.” Wanda gently coaxed you fully on top of her body, your sensitive chests pressing together in a way that makes you whine. “You’re sensitive, I know. But, Daddy’s going to put some more lotion on your ass. We don’t want it to really start hurting.” 

When Natasha first laid her hands on your ass, the cooling lotion significantly colder than you had been expecting had caused your entire body to stiffen. Your teeth nervously gnawed at Wanda’s fingers, your tongue flicking across the band of her engagement ring. Her soft assurances calmed you effectively, and with reassurances of it being just Natty that touched and her hands would warm up soon, you began to relax into the sensation.

When the Russian was done, she left a lingering kiss to the end of your spine, her lips trailing up the dip in your back until she pressed them against your shoulder blades. “Good girl.” Natasha praised you promisingly before she fell flush against the mattress and let herself sink in beside you and Wanda, her files forgotten about for the foreseeable future.

Ona vse yeshche daleko vnizu, da? — she's still pretty far down, huh?

 Da, ty poydesh' za odnoy iz svoikh tolstovok? V obozrimom budushchem ya budu zapert zdes'. — yeah, will you go get one of your hoodies? i'll be trapped here for the foreseeable future.

pozhaluysta — please

[gangplanksorenji]

Kinknuary Day 6: Begging

Pairing: (G)I-DLE Yuqi x Male Reader

Word Count: 5,223

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

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“Yuqi, you can’t just buy everything you want—”

“But can’t you see? I have it all over me.” Yuqi brags about the plethora of shopping bags she’s carrying, knowing that it will slap you towards what she has mustered but you need to slap her back to reality. So, gripping her wrists and forcing herself to be in level with you, you glared at her, laced with venom as you’re not having this bratty attitude of hers.

“Listen here you little shit—you can’t buy anything of these without my money, so, you should be obedient about everything I say because my asshole doesn’t shit money and if it would, there’s a fucking limit, do you understand?”

It’s like Yuqi never knew about limitations as she will utilize what she can to get what she wants and you hate it yet there’s an optimistic side of this, is that, she’s doesn't force things out of your pocket because she rather begs for it until you agree and that’s your weakness—her, alone. Her charisma is off the roof, with even the people you pass by with her, some can’t help but get their attention stolen with Yuqi’s beauty as she’s glamorous as always and you can’t blame them with that.

Yet you know that enough is enough, and she should be taught a lesson even though it will fall deaf on her ears.

“But please—can I have at least shop for one more time, please??”

No matter how much she begs, or lures you in to play the game that definitely she’ll win, she won’t succeed with her current wants, leaving it only for her to imagine and not grasp it within her reach.

“I told you, Yuqi, we can’t—maybe someday—”

“Aish—you know what? It’s fine, I got what I needed anyway—can we just go home now?” Yuqi chides boredom as she doesn't get to succeed with her attempts, earning a faint smile on your face. She’s mildly irritated because of you—it’ll grow until it becomes unbearable to take—and you know she’s running out of options, so you took it as an advantage. 

“Why don’t we just go around the place and have some fun, Yuqi?”

“Shopping is damn tiring, you know that? I just want to go home…” You’re not falling for another trap just to fulfill and succumb to her possible needs, so you’re doing everything on your own power to convince her of your own wants instead of fulfilling hers—talk about being fair to each other which probably doesn’t exist in her dictionary. 

“But aren’t you feeling tired?”

Well, you've thought of enlightenment yourself—you're probably as tired as she is, as if walking for hours isn’t enough, then you don't know what is—and you’re afraid to agree with her. You don’t want to lie or make yourself a hypocrite towards her but it is the truth—you feel the enervation yourself and knowing you have the higher authority, you came up to a conclusion in order to close the continuous pleading and annoyance of Yuqi.

“You know what, let’s just go home since we’ve bought so many things today.”

“Ahh, yes! Thank god you agreed with me, daddy.”

Ah, the forbidden word has been used publicly and to think that someone may find it unorthodox, you quickly glared at her, wanting to shut her mouth up because of embarrassment.

“You better not call me that in public, Yuqi.”

“Or what? Are you gonna shut me up with your dick in my mouth—”

You grabbed her wrists and glared at her, this time, it’s much more intimidating and scarier, all laced with venom for her to stop. “God, be careful!”

You didn’t mind your reckless actions as you wanted to prove a point towards her.

“Shut your whore mouth or something’s going to happen to you, Yuqi.”

“Like what?” She confidently taunts you, knowing that you wouldn’t lay down a finger to her, let alone curse her with words full of lustful profanities in public.

“You know what—you’re going to get punished, Yuqi. Go to the car and let’s go home.” Your tone is demanding and stern, almost sending a chill down her spine but despite all of that, she hides a smile, knowing that she’ll soon be reaching that promised land she always wanted. Not wasting some time, she briskly walked towards the car, excited about what’s about to happen and little did she know, you have plans to truly teach her a lesson she won’t forget.

---

A bratty mind is hard to be penetrated with lessons as the iron wall defending is as strong as her ego, and you’re willing to break it yet, if it means for her to be deprived and on the urge of almost breaking that wall, then it’s going to be a successful attempt to teach her.

It’s not like it’s going to be hard—it would take some time because you know how Yuqi always loved you and your cock.

“You wanted to act tough, I’ll show you what’s tough.”

Without the profounded foreplay that she always liked and just being straight to the point, her helpless cries are ignored—bound to break her and truly submit into the abyss of the lowest points. With her wrists tied onto her back, herself in all fours and her clothing yanked off onto where it is—you didn’t where it was because it will be useless right now, no matter how she looked phenomenal with that outfit—her full, naked body is now display as you admire it and worship it, plating soft kisses onto her neck and the fondling of her small, perky mounds that makes Yuqi release such sounds that arouses both parties. 

“Can’t do anything, hm? This is what you get for acting such a bitch earlier.”

Yuqi whines uncontrollably within teases of your hands and lips, the sensitivity she feels now off the charts considering how she’s feeling deprived with her needs. You’d love to have her clothing on while teasing the living fuck out of her but this was probably way better than what you envisioned earlier. 

“But please, daddy—g-give me what I want…”

She’s straightforward and needy, you can see the desperation in her eyes yet you’ll let her know that everything should be earned and well-deserved. Well, asking her won’t give her anything but feed you information as she didn’t deserve anything, yet.

“What do you even want from me, Yuqi?” You ask her as she moans, struggling to answer back as the skillful display of talent was shown with the way you tease the labia of her wet cunt and the fondling of her small mounds. “You and y-your cock, daddy.”

You chuckled right after, feeling the lack of sincerity within her tone as her voice trembles, voicing her satisfaction as she lets you know that she wants you genuinely and nothing more.

“You don’t seem to be honest about that, Yuqi.”

“B-but I am, daddy! Please j-just please fuck me already. I didn’t strip a-and put on a show for—gahh—nothing, daddy.”

The audacity of this slut—it’s just mesmerizing that even with the utmost pleasure running down her veins, she manages to even retaliate back with disrespect and selfishness, and that further ignites the feeling of punishing her and teasing her. If she wants her needs to be fulfilled, she might have to be patient or beg for it.

“If you really want this cock—then beg for it, Yuqi.”

She looks at your eyes endearingly, her puppy-eyes really flicking the switch into you as she begs for everything that can make her reach her desired treasure. Her voice trembles as she feels nervous begging for you but it’s truly the ravishing essence—her full submission while being helpless to do anything is the hidden beauty and it’s such a beautiful sight.

“P-please, daddy—I’ll do everything—” Her orbs glistens with lust and anticipation, wanting you to oblige on her needs as you can’t seem to pull the trigger;

“—I w-want your cock—to t-tastes it and savor it—please, daddy—” And she mutters up such profanities that further arouses you, an attempt to let yourself gave in to your own carnal needs;

“—Please, daddy—I’ll be your g-good girl just please, I w-want it…” And there she goes—her one, final advancement towards her own needs and for the sake of your pleasure—to pick the lock that you’ve been abstaining and depriving her for.

With the way she begs like she had lost everything, starting from her refulgent puppy-eyes up to her pleading tone, you can’t help but give in to the temptation of fulfilling her needs—most likely your needs since you want to teach her a lesson by fucking that bitchy attitude out of her but not all starts from the climax, it must start with one hell of an exordium.

“You really want it, huh, Yuqi?” Yuqi didn’t hesitate to nod, further encouraging you onto fulfilling her desires. “Then go on your knees, you can do it yourself.”

It was hard to maneuver in Yuqi’s end but you didn’t care. She immediately thrusted herself up, her knees crawling backwards and off the bed, in order to stand up and to get on her knees. The visible struggle was there but she did it nonetheless, her submissive demeanor all for you to admire as she looks helpless with her hands tied onto her back. You then quickly undressed your bottom half—you’d probably make Yuqi to strip it off on you but with her hands tied up, you didn’t bother to kill the essence of an occurring punishment—as you can see Yuqi’s eyes lighting up in awe and hunger, gazing into your erect length like it’s a long-lost treasure she’s always been wanting to obtain and now it’s just a step closer within her mouth’s reach. You then sit down onto the side of the bed, spreading out your legs as you relax yourself to be close for comfort and then command Yuqi to unleash her own masterclass of a show.

“I assume you know what to do, slut.”

Yuqi inches herself closer to you as her face indicates such an analytical approach to your cock, mesmerized and possibly adoring your length as her doe-eyes scan every inch possible. She didn’t bother to tease you as her hands are deemed useless, now her mouth is doing the job of pleasuring you instead of anything else. She swirls her tongue onto your leaking slit that’s already doused with the infamous colorless liquid as she alternates her tongue actions with kisses that peppered around your shaft. You wouldn’t mind her lipstick smudging onto the base of your shaft as she takes you balls-deep in her mouth if it means to give you the utmost pleasure and it’s like she wouldn’t oblige to it—she even want it rough, always taking your whole length until she’s a disheveled, gagged-up mess. With the mouthwork she’s been servicing onto your now saliva-sheathed shaft, you can’t help but moan as she’s doing a great job considering the lack of her hands that could probably make everything better—you know how skillful her hands are; and just by the dexterity of her fingers on her handjobs onto the fondling of your balls, you couldn’t ask for anything more and with that though, you almost regretted tying her hands up but the main mission here is to punish her, deprive her on her needs on your own accord.

“God—your mouth, Yuqi—keep sucking me j-just like that. This bratty mouth feels good—we should’ve done this sooner.”

Of course, she can’t respond with her mouth full of your cock and she won’t even bother to—it was evident, knowing how much effort she’s been exerting on sucking you off seals the deal. The way her head bobs frantically and then burying her mouth balls-deep, her lips being in contact onto the soft skin at the base of your shaft (also add the constant gags that has been resonating around the room) is truly a hypnotic and an arousing sight—this feels too good to be true and you love every second of it. With her current pace, drool inevitably seeps out of her mouth as she doesn't mind the filthiness she’s been luring into as she minds servicing you with her mouth as she seizes the opportunity on her utmost capabilities. Now pulling out of your shaft to give herself a leverage to breathe, she asked you something that she shouldn’t be bothering to ask for as the answer would be obvious.

“Can I p-please suck your balls, daddy?”

“No one’s stopping you, Yuqi—go on.”

Yuqi now averts her attention towards your sensitive balls as she tongues it with care, not wanting to hurt you. To further assist her and to gradually keep up the pleasure you’ve been experiencing, you took your raging length and stroked yourself with the arousing look of Yuqi’s naked, submissive body as she laps your balls in aims to further stimulate you. It is damn working and she’s good at it, considering how her hands can’t really influence or make anything better, she’s doing a great job as every gentle suck onto each testicle earns a ragged moan escaping your lips. She takes this as a compliment as she sucks onto each ball with care as you stroke yourself in tandem with that, further maintaining the stimulation you once gave yourself into.

“Now suck me off again, Yuqi. I wanna see that pretty dick-sucking mouth at work again.”

“Of course, daddy.”

Yuqi returns her mouth onto your whole length again, taking it all in like it was all nothing as a single, immediate deepthroat unlocks a series of gags from hers, which further stimulates you into oblivion. She’s in her own league when it comes to dick-sucking—who would’ve thought that such a cute, classy girl whose demeanor is peak-sophistication is a cockslut? Well, that wasn’t surprising considering how much you influenced her on being herself—being so goddamn hot in every outfit she wears and it’s just crazy thinking about that.

Well, you don’t need to think about it when it’s already within inches close to you—lucky you…

She continues her earlier rapid pace as she fucks her mouth onto your throbbing shaft like she wants to prove something—her worth to deserve you and you only. With her constant gags, fast pace, saliva messing up her beautiful visage and the tears adding up to the sullied mess on her face, you can’t hold the fact of abstaining yourself to your desired peak. Encouraging her for more, you praise her masterclass as you caress her gray-almost-hazelnut locks for stroking her ego.

“God fucking dammit, Yuqi—I’m so fucking close—put that t-tight mouth into good use and make daddy cum—fuck!”

She obviously responded with an incredible pace and mouthfucking, mouthing her satisfaction with constant muffles and gags as you could feel your blood rushing, your peak nearing to an end of its hot pursuit as at last, it was truly unbearable to hold it in anymore.

Yuqi, being the clever girl that she is, buries her mouth balls-deep onto your shaft as you hold a vice grip onto her head, a leverage to the constant pleasure you’re into. Thick shots of warm seed welcomes Yuqi’s slutty throat as every spurt receives a warm welcome from her, smiling as best as she can even with a mouthful of cock and the gags being the cherry on top. You let out fervor-filled moans and groans, voicing your satisfaction on your fifteen-second euphoric release inside her mouth.

“You probably deserved that, Yuqi—would have come onto your face but it is what it is.”

After pulling out and letting out exhausted breaths, Yuqi sticks out her tongue to show your incredible hard work all over it, and then quickly swallows your creamy, healthy load with two gulps, herself struggling a little because of such a marvelous volume of your load. Your load was so much to the point that some seeped out of her chin and onto her lips, you then aiding to help her clean it up as no food shall be wasted, wiping it with your fingers and then directing it onto her mouth and eagerly, Yuqi sucked onto it, not wasting a single drop.

“But I want you to paint my face, daddy—can you please cum on my face, daddy, please—”

“No—” You commanded her to get up as she immediately obliged, inching closer to her as you have a lot of plans in store with her today as her wants shouldn’t be attended first. “—I would want to cum on your face, yes, but girls like you—I don’t even know if you deserve it, let alone inside your tight, little pussy.”

A visible frown and pout is evident on her face, expressing her sadness with your proposition but an enlightenment snaps her back to her delighted self, knowing she’ll get her needs attended to by you and soon, you’ll give in but it won’t be that easy. 

“Then just fuck me senseless and cum in pussy, daddy—”

“You fucking slut—” You then grabbed her wrists in order to be dangerously closer to her as you smack her buttocks harshly, earning a sultry whine from Yuqi as the rage inside you is now emanating an aura of fear as she feels it too, eyebrows furrowing as she doesn’t know what to anticipate. “—you’re really that cockhungry, huh?”

Yuqi nods as she lets out a deep sigh of anxiety and anticipation, feeling such a roller-coaster of emotions as she doesn’t know how she could take this situation in a sense that she’ll be relieved knowing that everything is going to be smooth. She kneels down in front of you, and then makes contact with your eyes as those glistening orbs plead for your mercy, to fulfill her needs on your own accord.

“P-please, daddy—I n-need you in my cunt right n-now—fuck, please, daddy!”

It’s the way she begs that makes the difference amongst everything else—those endearing eyes that can get any man lost with its stare and her voice, her deep, sultry voice that’s just the cherry on top. You love seeing herself at her lowest, the point where she’ll beg for anything to sustain her needs and it’s just an arousing sight to see. You’ll note this and would definitely take advantage of her submissiveness just hear Yuqi begging for you.

“P-please, daddy—I’ll do anything just t-to be fucked silly.”

And god you can’t resist the temptation of depriving her needs when her verbal attempts to persuade you onto such sinful acts. You can’t really contain anything anymore as you just hope to ruin her and to fuck that bitchy attitude out of her. Not really going to abstain yourself from reaching your own carnal desires, you command her to get up as you’re about to give in to the abyss of no-return and full satisfaction.

“Get on all fours onto the bed, head down, ass up, and since you’re begging like a fucking cockhungry whore and don’t worry Yuqi—I’ll make sure you’re legs won’t work until tomorrow, or maybe even a week considering how you’ve made me this fucking horny.” Once she quickly obliged to be in position, you swiftly gave her bubble butt harsh spanks that almost left your handprint in it and you’re definitely marking it red because she’s yours and she loves it, so, you won’t even mind stopping even it’s on her own accord—you even vividly remember how she came hard with just your merciless spanks at her butt and your fingers fucking her pussy and god, it’s such a sight to remember. The rage inside you is brewing in such a potent quality that you’re willing to fuck her senseless, no matter what happens. Now getting up onto the bed with her, you kneel down as you spank her again, and then another, consistently giving her a barrage of harsh smacks that every clash resonates around the bedroom. Having enough of it as you successfully imprinted your palm onto her scrumptiously plump cheeks, you avert your attention onto her needy pussy, brushing your fingers off it just to tease her and immediately, she lets out series of muffled moans as her thighs quiver with sensitivity.

“You’re so fucking hot, Yuqi—no wonder why people eye on you like they’re about to fuck you at any given time—shit, you’re so fucking hot.”

No one can blame you for that because with the insane hourglass waist she’ve worked hard to impress you—and sure she definitely did considering how you’re always in awe whenever taking a look of that tone midriff—you can’t help but utter such compliments not just to stroke her ego, but to make her wetter because she’s about to take such force that she’ll give into submission anytime. 

You didn’t really waste some time to finger her pussy further, but instead brushed your tip against her pussy and without any warning, you plunge inside her as the both of you moaned in unison, the tightness of her walls nigh-suffocating your shaft like it’s about to immediately milk out a load from you—it’s just pure insanity how her walls grip around your raging member everytime as it just voices her satisfaction whenever you’re having sex with her—and her moaning (almost whining) in delight because of the girth of your whole length that’s not easy to take—you could tell the hint of struggle within her as you can see her hands curling as well as her ragged, muffled moans. You took some time to be accustomed to the tightness of her cunt as not so long after, you thrust in her with a moderate pace that defies peak pleasure. You weren’t getting to harsh on her, yet, because you wanted her to give such time to prepare on what’s coming next and also, you wanted well-paced fucking with a rising action and not to the anticipated climax immediately, although, you want to really give her the thrusts of a lifetime, and it’s not gonna be long until such filthiness is about to happen.

“Mmfh—mfh!”

“What are you saying, Yuqi?” You pull her hair, arching her back, as she lets out sets of profanities that makes her succumb onto the intense pleasure that has been coursing down her veins since the start you’ve laid a finger on her heated core. 

“Can d-daddy f-fuck me harder, please?”

Still engrossed onto suckling the porcelain skin of her neck and peppering her nape and shoulders with kisses, it took you seconds to respond and with a hitch of anger. “You really have the audacity to think if I can—” You gave her butt a harsh spank in response to her bewildering audacity as she let out another sultry whimper that made your cock twitch. “—fuck you harder? Well—fuck, you’re tight, Yuqi—really fucking tight—so, you need to beg for it—beg then you may have a chance.”

Muttering up the green light, she didn’t hesitate to let out her wants as you still her head harshly and reduced the pace of your thrusts, wanting her to articulate and hear the best sinful profanities coming out of her slutty mouth.

“P-please, daddy—f-fuck your gi—girl like she deserves it—l-like a bitchy s-slut who a-always wants your cock at—gahh—any g-given time—fuck, please, daddy, fuck the l-living whore o-out of me—I k-know I’m a bitch—a fucking bitch when you teach m-me a l-lesson—ahh, fuck, daddy!”

You didn’t let her finish her sentence because even halfway with her lustful speech is the uncontainable sheer of will to fuck her senseless as it helped ignite the raging flame inside you, your hips oscillating such pace that like a man could never do. You rev your engines, or should I say, your hips in a merciless pace that Yuqi inevitably lets out the most erotic, lustful moans you’ve ever heard on your whole life, orchestrating such a masterpiece that should be composed as a symphony—it’s not like you’ve probably recorded multiple symphonies full of her moans onto your brain and you wish you could record it right now but your focus is now averted towards fucking her. Now, letting go of her gray-hazelnut locks, you grab her mounds as you fondle whilst maintaining such an incredible pace, further lighting up the flame of lust Yuqi’s been into as the stimulation is becoming too much.

“You’ve wanted t-this all along, huh? S-shit, you’re a crazy girl, Yuqi.”

“I c-could never help it whenever d-daddy’s cock fill up m-my tight cunt—fuck, so f-fucking good, daddy—so good!”

Voicing her satisfaction with your wild treatment on her, you continue fucking her like an animal as now, you continued on kissing her back, peppering it with your affection as now, you also added spanks at random intervals between your thrusts and god, it’s making Yuqi insane considering how stimulating all of these are. Every clash of your bodies and jiggles of her thighs sends you into an hypnotic trance, allowing yourself to lure yourself onto fucking her with ridiculous pace. 

It makes so much of a difference with her hands idle and just curling because of the intense pleasure, but, it allows you to have more leverage and control over her, considering how she always interrupts you with her hands being all over your back, scratching it while fucking in a mating press position and more, and it’s such an incredible experiment what you’ve laid upon to.

“D-daddy—ahh…”

“Yes, Yuqi?”

Even if you can’t see her expression of plea and submissiveness, you could spark an imaginative figure of it as you reduced the pace a little, giving her a breather to propose something.

“C-can I suck on your f-fingers while y-you’re fucking me, please, d-daddy—please?”

Not wasting time for anymore foreplay, you avert your other hand onto her mouth as she sucks onto your index finger whilst building up the pace again. The stream forming around of your cock signals her utmost satisfaction and pleasure, and with the combined techniques you’re doing to further make it run like a waterfall, it’s almost inevitable for her to hold it in as it drips onto the bed sheets, staining it—you’re gonna need a new set of bed sheets after you’re done with her, that’s for sure. With a harsh grip of her hips to further piston your hips onto euphoria, you continue your earlier wild pace as every clench of her cunt does wonders to your brain, sending you into overdrive as continuous erotic and muffled moans escape Yuqi’s lips. Speaking of clenching, you could tell how close she is to achieving her own orgasm as not so long after, she pulled out of your fingers after multiple gags as she’s now calling out her near high.

“Daddy—I’m g-gonna cum s-so soon!”

Not wanting to deny anything as you can’t stop yourself either, soon, the inevitable will come for her as you gave her the green light: “Then cum for me, baby—don’t hold back.”

To further aid onto reaching her high, you gave her an onslaught of wild thrusts as she screams in delight, announcing her euphoric release. With still your cock buried deep in her pussy, she came hard as streams of her juices flowed around your girth and dripped onto the bed sheets, some on her thighs and your balls. Not really wanting to break the euphoric essence of pleasure, you’re still fucking her slowly and yet, your carnal desires kick in and fucked her like it’s your last, not giving her time to recover from her earlier strong orgasm. With such an incredible session you’ve been into, you want to end this on a better note and with that in mind, an idea comes into your mind for utmost arousal.

“Where do you want me to cum, Yuqi? Inside your tight, little cunt, filling you up to the brim? Or, all over your body where I can paint possibly every inch to show how much of a slut you are?”

Such ways of a hell of a release is such a spectacular sight, no matter what the concluding act is an arousing sight. With your proposal, Yuqi will always want your thick semen to be released inside her cunt, filling her up to the hilt but of course, you would choose the opposite, wanting to hear her beg for one more time. 

“I w-want you to c-cum in my pussy, daddy—use me and f-fill your girl up!”

“But I’d rather paint you instead of filling you up, how about that, hm, Yuqi?”

“But, please—daddy, I w-want it inside me, please…”

Being satisfied upon her pleas, you’ve thought of a brilliant idea of seeing her face while cumming, so, you pull out of her which earned an upset whine from her as you commanded her to face you as the grand finale is within your hand’s reach.

“Turn around so I can cum in you in this position.”

“Yes, daddy—o-oh! You’re s-so deep in t-this position, daddy! Please, fuck me hard and c-cum inside my slut pussy!”

Without holding anything back, you immediately plunge your length inside her as the penetration is crazy, filling her up balls-deep in every thrust. You’re fucking her like you meant it and you absolutely did, each thrust earning the most hypnotic jiggles of her thighs as her face expresses numerous emotions containing lust and delight, and soon, it’s about to break loose—the contained damn for ages about to break out, again. With your wet balls slapping repeated against her puckered hole, it just represents the wild pace you’re exerting as you didn’t announce your orgasm anymore, wanting to catch Yuqi off-guard but it’s like she couldn’t tell you’re about to go off considering your constant throbbing inside her tight walls.

You buried your shaft, filling her up to the hilt and immediately, you came, shooting another thick load of your seed deep in her as she moans and in order to silence it, you capture her lips as she immediately reciprocates, sharing such an intimate kiss between your orgasmic trance. Having enough of the battle of dominance onto each other’s mouth, you pull out your mouth of her as you did the same on your cock, meeting a sight of her now-creampied pussy as the sight is just worthy to behold—her cunt mixed with your semen and her juices and some seeping out of her hole and onto the bed sheets. With now your softening cock, you didn’t even bother to let her clean it up; but instead, you opted to pull her into a deep, passionate kiss one more time to voice your satisfaction on today’s steamy session.

“God, daddy—you came s-so much, thank you—hah…”

“Just don’t act like a bitch and you’ll be rewarded like that, Yuqi.”

“But I wasn’t—”

“Don’t even start it—you felt great too, though.”

Yuqi blushes as the compliment makes her lower her guard, not just with the fact that her ego is stroked but with the fact of genuinity laces on each of your words.

“You fucked me great too—wanna clean up?”

“Sure—just please, I don’t wanna have sex in the bathroom.”

“Hah—who knows? Maybe it could be more than that…” God, this girl will never change and it’s like she’s about to take another with her wobbly legs, you doubt she can do anything sexual for now but you won’t mind it—who damn knows, right?

[ask-encyclopedic-guy]

I work in a library, at Celestia's school for gifted unicorns

For my whole life, I've wanted to learn about magic.

I've wanted to be magic.

Once, Celestia made a Pegasus an Alicorn. The Pegasus became the Alicorn Princess of Love. The magic of flight she had had at her disposal her whole life, boosted, and her forehead graced with the gift of a horn, and so much more.

Recently, Celestia created a new princess: The Princess of Magic. A pony, only able to prove herself using magic because she was born gifted with magic in the first place. Born a unicorn, and now, a world of enhanced magic and flight has been handed to her.

By all accounts, The Princesses Love, and Magic, earned their status.

But, did they?

Could they really, have earned it, without their gifts from birth?

...I have a ticket, to the first Grand Galloping Gala the princess Twilight Sparkle is to attend, as princess.

I was gifted it, by a friend...

I intend to go. And I intend to talk to The Princess, Twilight Sparkle.

And, I'm going to present her something simple enough...

Proof, that I have earned the right to use magic.

Proof that I have earned the right to gain a horn.

...And I'm going to ask, that I be given one. Then, and there.

Afterall... If they can make a princess- an Alicorn, out of a Unicorn, or a Pegasus...

Why can't they make a practioner of magic, out of an earth pony?

-Encyclopedic Guy is now open for questions-

[atinyslittleworld]

Size doesn’t matter

mingi x f!reader ft. ateez

Summary: Mingi’s tiny girlfriend drives expertly his massive SUV, saving Ateez from a chaotic road trip, proving that size doesn’t matter in driving

Word Count: 753

Genre: humour

Warnings: none

Mingi, the tallest and most confident member of ATEEZ, was proud of his massive SUV. It was as grand and imposing as he was. However, his driving skills were... not exactly up to par. His girlfriend, Y/N, though petite, had an uncanny talent for driving the beast of a vehicle with grace and precision.

One sunny afternoon, Mingi decided to take his girlfriend and bandmates—Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, Wooyoung, and Jongho—on a road trip to the beach. The plan was simple: get there, have fun, and return before sunset. Little did they know, this trip would become an adventure of epic proportions.

As they piled into the SUV, Mingi took the driver’s seat with an air of confidence. Seonghwa claimed the passenger seat, while the rest of the bandmates squeezed into the back. Due to the limited space, they ended up sitting on top of each other, like a human game of Tetris.

"Alright, everyone, buckle up. This is going to be a smooth ride," Mingi declared, starting the engine with an overly enthusiastic grin.

Barely five minutes into the journey, Mingi took a wrong turn, steering them onto a narrow, winding road that seemed to shrink with every passing minute. The SUV lurched and bounced, causing everyone in the back to clutch at whatever they could for support.

"Uh, Mingi, are you sure we’re going the right way?" Seonghwa asked, gripping the door handle tightly.

"Of course! I have a great sense of direction," Mingi replied, though the beads of sweat on his forehead told a different story.

After what felt like an eternity of bouncing along the wrong road, they finally found a spot wide enough to turn around. Mingi attempted a three-point turn, but the SUV seemed to have a mind of its own. He was either too close to the ditch on one side or scraping the bushes on the other.

Y/N, squeezed between San and Wooyoung, finally spoke up. "Mingi, maybe I should drive?"

The car fell silent. The bandmates exchanged glances, and San let out a barely contained snicker.

"Really, babe? I can handle this," Mingi insisted, looking less certain with each failed attempt to turn the SUV.

Y/N gave him a reassuring smile. "Trust me, I’ve got this."

With no other options in sight, Mingi reluctantly agreed. Now came the challenge of getting Y/N to the front seat. Practically wedged in the back, she had to climb off San’s lap, then over Wooyoung, who yelped as she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs.

"Watch it, Y/N!" Wooyoung whined playfully, while San tried to help her maintain balance.

Finally, Y/N managed to extract herself from the human puzzle, clambering over Yunho’s long legs and squeezing past Jongho to reach the front. Seonghwa unbuckled and slid out, letting Y/N take the driver’s seat.

Adjusting the mirrors and scooting the seat forward to accommodate her petite frame, Y/N took the wheel. With a gentle but firm touch, she maneuvered the SUV with a precision that left everyone, including Mingi, in awe. In no time, she had them back on the main road.

The rest of the drive was smooth and uneventful. Y/N expertly navigated the twists and turns, handled the traffic, and even managed to parallel park the beast of a vehicle at the beach, earning a round of applause from the bandmates.

"You know, Mingi, I think Y/N should be our official driver from now on," Wooyoung joked, patting Mingi on the back.

Mingi chuckled, a bit sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I guess size doesn’t matter when it comes to driving."

Jongho, always the practical one, chimed in. "At least now we know we can get to our destinations safely and without detours!"

As they enjoyed their day at the beach, Mingi couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride for his girlfriend. Sure, he might be the one with the impressive height and stage presence, but Y/N had shown everyone that true skill and capability came in all sizes.

On the way back, Mingi didn’t even protest when Y/N took the wheel again. Instead, he relaxed in the passenger seat, enjoying the smooth ride and the laughter of his bandmates filling the car. It was a lesson in humility, teamwork, and the surprising strengths hidden in the most unexpected places.

And so, the legend of Y/N, the tiny SUV master, became a favorite tale among ATEEZ, always good for a laugh and a reminder that sometimes, the best driver isn’t the one you’d expect.

[novulen]

⋆ೃ࿔*:･ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 — K.N.

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ : you ‘successfully’ manage to keep your husband from going to work.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛꜱ & ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : smut (mdni!!) nsfw, creampie, mean!nanami, multiple orgasms, mentions passing out, reader lowk has attachment issues but same , and a brief mention of ‘staying in ur place’ but u can’t blame me😞. (also kinda proofread but not)

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : ~1.3k

Looking back at it now, you’ve never been good at letting people go. You could even state that the idea seemed nearly foreign in a strange way–it felt wrong not to desire people or their presence. 

However, that realization didn’t come to you until you were in highschool, a freshman, still craving your middle school friendships. You yearned, day in and day out, reminiscing on the past and, in turn, sullying the present. 

And, it was only fair for not only your mind to be attached to a person, but your body also. Want tethered you to friends, lovers and family. 

Perhaps it was your attachment issues, or the lack of friends you'd had growing up, but it had managed to stick with you until now. 

The fear and burden of losing your lover plagued your mind even as you slept, and accordingly, your limbs wrapped around his torso protectively. Nanami could have protested, removed your body atop of his effortlessly, tossed you to the side even, but he didn't. It brought a certain softness to his heart seeing the extent of your love go beyond consciousness itself. 

Although, as much as he wanted–desperately so–to stay in your arms until noon, time was running thin. He had work in about an hour, and he had to be on the road by 40. 

“Sweetheart?” Nanami whispered, hands smoothly running up and down the expanse of your back as a means to wake you. Deep inside he didn’t want you to wake up; at least then he’d have an excuse not to go to work. 

But as if reading his mind and deciding to do the opposite of what he really desired, you awoke with a small whine, and wrapped your arms tighter around his neck. 

From that position Nanami was essentially face first with you, which allowed him to see you clearly, his chest swelling passionately at the small pout that took place on your lips. 

“Ken..stay,” you had mumbled in a sleepy grumble, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. By now you both were a jumble of interlocked limbs, yet that didn’t stop you from attempting to mesh further into him–that earned you a chuckle. 

“‘M not joking, Kento. Want you to stay,” you were hoping that had got to him, knowing Nanami, he would give into your desires without so much as a second thought, though today was different. He had a meeting he needed to attend, which proved persuading him to be difficult. 

“Today’s an important day, darling. I can’t stay,” he sighed, journeying his hands up to your waist and apologetically squeezing the flesh there before he began to lift your form off him, but you retaliated and only hugged him tighter. 

“Please,” You mouthed to him, repositioning your head from his shoulder simply to gaze into his eyes pleadingly. It tugged at his heartstrings, the exhausted, begging look you gave him, although he couldn’t give in just yet. 

He wanted to understand why he should stay, although he knew why you wanted him to stay. 

You were emotionally and sexually neglected–he personally could confirm that. And he fully blamed himself for leaving such a beautiful woman in bed all by herself until afternoon, all for a job he despised, but today was simply not the day. 

He had to get to this meeting. 

Nanami was just about to protest when you began grinding on him, which effectively caught him off guard. “W-what’re you doing?” He practically rasped out, jaw clenching as he tried to resist the effect that your ministrations had on him–but he failed. Horribly so.

You whimpered at the friction rubbing against him provided, and took in a breath. “I-If you don’t wanna stay, i’ll make you.” 

Looking back at that now, you should’ve known better–known your place. 

Because, with the way Nanami’s pounding ruthlessly into your pussy, you're positive you’ll be sore days after. 

“K-ken,” you moan, almost too loud for comfort. “‘M sorry–please–” 

A particularly sharp thrust cuts off your choked-up sentence.

“Sorry?” Nanami practically laughs at the sorry excuse of an apology. How could he possibly  forgive you after you pulled off something like that? Now, he was sure to get a mouthful from his colleagues about ditching the meeting tomorrow. That thought alone makes his grip on your hips tighten.

“This little stunt you pulled won’t go unpunished, I'll have you know that.” He grunts, a hand slivering up your back to tug harshly at your hair, and even when he’s mean he’s still somehow soft, his lips planting a kiss to your temple. But, a little too late into it, you realize that that act of passion wasn't out of passion alone, it was some sort of warning, something to notify you of his upcoming actions. As if he was telling you he would no longer be soft and slow, but a contrast of rough and mean. 

“Greedy little thing,” he huffs out. “Can’t even–” Nanami cuts off his own sentence with a groan, eyes shut and head thrown back when you tighten around him. 

You know your husband, and can verify that he’s not usually vocal during intimacy. But something about today was different–as if everything wasn’t. This change of course had something to do with the simple fact that you showed him–told him yourself that you wanted him to stay with you.

Seeing you so desperate for his presence brought out a side he never knew existed within him, and paired with the half-hearted annoyance he felt after your little show, Nanami can’t help but let himself go. 

“I-I am,” you mewl, limp and you would have fallen face first if it weren’t for the vice-lip grip holding you up. “Please, I can't take it.” 

“Oh, but you can.” He hums, almost monotonically. “I’m not pulling out until you’ve had your fair share of orgasms, seeing that’s what you wanted, no?” He can’t help but smile at the little whimper that leaves your lips following the end of his sentence, but he knows; as much as you whine and beg for a break, this is what you truly want. 

And Nanami can’t deny how that makes him feel. 

Hungry, depraved, wild. 

A guttural groan fills the space as loads upon loads of his seed pill into you. He cums still thrusting into your sensitive cunt without any restraint. 

After the countless orgasms he’s given you, and the countless to come, you can tell that this one’s the most intense. 

Your body shakes as you convulse around Nanami’s thick shaft, waves of ecstasy thrumming through you, translucent cum seeping out of your battered sex onto your thighs. Breath shallow and shaky, you reach your weak arms back to try and push him away. 

You practically sob as you beg for a break, a second even, where you can catch your breath and the overwhelming fullness coursing through you can cease, but those pleas fall to deaf ears as he begins to move again. 

Four orgasms in and fucked-out of your mind, you can barely speak. 

Five and you’re on the brink of passing out. 

Nanami’s not having it though. His stamina’s unwavering and his thrusts are relentless–that is, until he’s finally satisfied on your sixth 

Any more friction feels like torture at this point, and tears almost escape your eyes once you feel Nanami pull out. You barely even have the energy to open your eyes, let alone move any part of your body, so you’re left laying on your stomach, ass up and pussy seeping with fluids. 

With an exhale, he plants a kiss to your shoulder blade, big hand smoothing over your supple skin adoringly.

 He was back to normal. 

[happysparklingshadows]

𝙱𝙶𝟹 𝙻𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚜 ✿ 𝙿𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 ✿

Note: I am still writing A Certain Hunger but I have been very scared about publish it because it has taken so long to write because of some personal issues with my family and work! I hope you like my headcannons about Bg3 woman. They have infested my brain 😵‍💫

Lae’zel 

-Not one to really give or receive praise in a context outside of battle.

-She would compliment you in her husky tone occasionally if you did impressive work against an enemy. But praise for being around? No. 

-Lae’zel grew up in a culture that refuses kindness or praise. “It only makes us slower. We think of our greatness more than being great; I will not fall for that. I know my greatness in the screams of my enemies.” 

-However, over time, and after being introduced to Faeyan culture, she slowly learned that praise was judged as encouragement or care for others. Especially after staying with you to choose her future, she learns the importance of praise but uses it very sparingly. 

-“You did well.” She would say after you kill some goblins. Or the time she mentioned that she liked the “strength” you showed when you got beaten to your last hit point. 

-She was never good at taking praise. She didn’t like being called a good girl; it implied you were superior to her somehow, and she didn’t like being called anything other than Lae’zel. 

-“Champion, You were so strong tonight. It made me shiver.” You told her once as she was sharpening her sword. She stops abruptly and stares ahead of her momentarily, and she starts sharpening again. She got flustered very easily with those words.

-She does say in sex, though, “You take me so well, my scent still on you from last time. Screaming you are mine.” To you in sex. She likes to praise your good behavior as her mate, but she doesn’t think it is praise. She is stating a fact. You were good at taking her????

-She isn’t the best at giving or taking praise, but nothing is better for her when it is earned. She loves to hear your approval of her, and she tries her best to do the same for you because beneath the coldness was someone who couldn’t imagine a world without you. Didn’t want to. 

-I believe after the end of Act 3 in the game, she would call you “good girl” if you told her you liked it and explained how it made you feel. She won’t develop it independently, even with how well she knows you, but she wants to make you feel good. She isn’t above proving herself to you or changing small things, like what to call you in bed.

Karlach

-Fucking loves it and loves giving it both. 

-She calls you baby (girl or boy) whenever she is pleased with your behavior, and she kisses you whenever the urge comes over her, which is a lot. 

-Karlach has no shame or embarrassment to praise her beautiful Girlfriend. 

-Karlach had helped you once with her strength; you had asked them to hold you up as you wanted to grab a honeycomb. Her solid and big hands grabbed your waist gently and lifted you up like you were nothing; it made you feel flustered and turned on.

-“Gods, I don’t think I have ever met anyone as strong as you, Karlach! That was amazing!” You said without a filter when your feet met the ground again. You looked up to the now-flustered barbarian. “Seriously,” you say as you touch her bicep innocently to investigate your girlfriend's muscle, “What were you fed as a child? Rocks and nails?” 

-Which ended up with you pushed against that tree and fucked beyond belief. 

-The night came over you that night under the tree. You lay naked in the grass with Karlach. You hear the turning of mechanical parts in her chest as you look up at her, resting your chin on her breast, “You are so beautiful. It is just a privilege to love you, Karlach. Truly, I can’t believe we haven’t known each other longer for how much you have taken from my heart.”

-Karlach is a soft girl sometimes, and saying something like that to her would make her stare at you with tears in her eyes. She softly cries, not believing what you are saying. She chuckles at her own tears at such a nice thing. She sniffles and says, “Thank you, baby, I can’t- ah, I can’t find the words to tell you how much that makes me feel. I love you. You are the best love I have ever known.” 

-You kiss her skin softly as you cuddle closer to the tearful tiefling, “I love you too. So greatly… it’s good to know it is mutual.”

-“It is, baby, it really is. Tonight is such a beautiful night.”

Shadowheart 

-Shadowheart doesn’t admit it, but she has such a big praise kink. 

-It started when you two met when you noticed how she would look away when you thanked her for saving you, or she would blush when you told her how great she was beside you in a fight. 

-But she was slow with her love and couldn’t be won over with some simple praise. It takes time to win her trust, let alone her heart.

-She finds her need for your praise as something she needs to hide. It was a vulnerability to exploit if she let it show. It is how she is used to being. She tries to hide her happiness with praise, but it is hard. 

-But, when you two start seeing each other seriously, she takes that shit to the heart every time. 

-“Good girl.” You said in passing when she healed you without being asked. It caused her to blush and feel a heat wave through her.

-She was happy to make things easier for you when she was in love with you and away from Shar. She doesn’t need anyone's approval anymore, no more sacrifices to be enough. She was enough to you. It made her feel comfortable. 

-Shadow wasn’t scared to praise you back. She is similar to Karlach in that way. She has no shame when she is happy with you to tell you that or give you a look that communicates that she will treat you to something more. 

-One night after she had abandoned Shar, she was still very lost and felt not herself. Even her hair isn’t the same as what she remembered. She didn’t remember much. It killed her, and you came to your shared tent. 

-“Shadow, I want you to know I haven’t met someone with so much bravery before.” You say to her as she sits across from you, saddened and quiet, and you come closer to her. “You were scared and did what you thought was right, and it was right, without knowing how it would end up. You dared to do something that terrified you. It inspires me, my love.” You finish as you touch her hand, you move a hair out of her face that still looks at the ground. She had red cheeks, and her breath was hitched. She needed to hear that. But she couldn’t find words to speak. “My brave cleric.” You say as you touch her cheek tenderly with a finger, rubbing it up and down and moving it away. “I think you will find your nerve again. Give it some time.”

-She, of course, finds it again and is her typically goofy brooding self again. And she remembers those words when she is afraid. She reminds herself that you find her brave, so she must act bravely. 

-The praise you give her keeps her sane even if she will never admit it. 

Minthara 

-Praise is not something to take or give lightly to Minthara. 

-Minthara is 230 years old (45ish in human years), and you are way younger than her by a hundred(s) of years. She sees you as someone who has yet to mold into a fully well-rounded person, and she likes to see herself as some kind of mentor and lover. 

-Minthara smirked at you when you did something she liked in the company of your party; she would back you up on almost any decision you made. If you kill or attack someone without asking questions, she will give you a nod and a “Good kill.” 

-Minthara doesn’t hate when she is praised by you. It gave her a reasonable confidence boost that she needed right now. But she scoffs at it and doesn’t like overly affectional praise or one that doesn’t feel earned. 

-She thinks the best praise is in sex with your moans and begs to her. She worships you, eyes devouring you as much as her mouth did to your clit. Her fingers toying and occasionally pinching your nipples, she moans into your body as she tastes your essence. She loves hearing how good she is doing and how great you feel; she keeps her path of getting your cum on her lips. 

-Minthara kisses up your body when she is done. She links her hips with yours with firm thrusts against you, and she says down to you, “Good girl, that’s right, move with me.” 

[notedchampagne]

something really interesting i noticed the fandom do from time to time is forget that the harrowhark brain aus are made by harrowhark, and not an objectively accurate alternate universe. i dont mean that theyre incorrect but the universes themselves reveal a lot about harrows perception of an idealized romance:

harrow nova puts gideon in a position where she clearly has the upper hand being the rev daughter, but harrow still places herself in a position where she is not only intent on serving her as a cav but more importantly feeling like she is indebted to her

royal highness/bachelorette pictures gideon as someone revered and out of reach (her heart was beating so hard; she did not know why she was afraid), and in the setting its implied that harrow has to compete for / earn her, even if she refuses to participate.

and BARIstar is an obvious meetcute where even in a universe where they had never known each other prior, harrow still meets gideon and is charmed by her on sight.

like it drives me off a cliff that 1) harrowhark is a heartrotting romantic; she really and truly believes that she cant live in a universe without gideon, and in ADDITION she will make it so that harrow will find gideon anywhere because having a universe with her in it isnt enough - she needs to fucking revolve around her

and yet 2) harrowhark idolizes an image of gideon: they hated each other to full comprehension of the other on the ninth but they never even considered each other friends until canaan. harrow knows how gideon works, but she doesnt know her as well as friend and as a person. the harrow nova au portrays gideon as someone generous and something harrow has to prove herself to & to make up her existence for. the royal highness au doesnt even show gideon at all, but in the same work as nova harrows placed her in a position of higher power like a subversion of their dynamic on the ninth. the BARIstar au hides gideons rank but harrow is caught up in her image anyway. she is completely infatuated with gideon but sees her as an act to be redeemed by before seeing her as a person and its KILLING me. its Killing me. did you know gideons megadead? did you know kiriona now holds that subversion of power over harrow that she had dreamed up in her own mind?? did you know that harrowhark "CATHOLICISM" nonagesimus has confessed her crimes in the saltwater and instead of being rebuked by it like she wanted, gideon fucking forgave her?? im sick in the head this post was just supposed to be about how funny it is that harrow likes gideon so bad. shes infatuated ohhh shes so down bad. did you know rivers are freshwater??

[graceshouldwrite]

Writing Compelling Side Characters

**NOTE: Some of these tips don't really apply to ensemble casts, where there are multiple Main Characters (plural).

1) Agency - motivations, actions, effects

Technically, they ARE side characters in your MC's story, but don't base your writing on that fact.

Side characters need:

Their own REASONS for joining the story (because they want to, not because the PLOT wanted them to) Example: In Arcane, Caitlyn inadvertently gets involved with Vi due to her compassion and desire to help the undercity, not because the plot needs a love interest

A GOAL, on which they act INDEPENDENT of the plot, and actually affects your MC/the main plot (not the other way around) Example: In Loki, Sylvie's independent goal is to take down the TVA, and her actions reveal the TVA's corruption to Loki, influencing him to join her in fighting against the TVA instead of working for them

A STAKE in how things end (e.g. someone getting paid after agreeing to join a heist); they aren't just in it to be a "comic relief" or a "damsel in distress" Example: In Breaking Bad, Jesse joins Walt in cooking meth because he makes BANK from selling drugs, not because Walt needed a funny and traumatized sidekick

Their own RELATIONSHIPS with other characters, aside from the MC—they have their own friends, enemies, love interests, etc., and these relationships can completely change the plot Example: In the original Percy Jackson series, all of the side characters (e.g. Annabeth, Nico, Thalia, Luke, etc.) have their own relationships with each other that greatly affect the plot. Check it out: Annabeth's attachment to Luke, even after he became evil, completely changed the plot in several ways: kickstarting a journey to save her from Luke in The Titan's Curse, revealing his true evil identity as a vessel for Kronos (big bad!) in The Battle of the Labyrinth, and mainly contributing towards Luke's reversion away from evil in the last book due to him remembering his promise to take care of her a long time ago, etc.

Their own PAST that affects how they act, move forward, and how they treat the MC Example: In Avatar: The Last Airbender, Azula's pressure on herself and desire for perfection is greatly driven by her father's expectations of her as the fire-bending prodigy, resulting in a childhood of earning parental love and care AFTER she proves her worth to him. This created a mentality ceaselessly focused on her goals—which are usually her father's missions—causing her to be deadly, manipulative, and constantly causing problems for the main character.

The side character is not an extension or byproduct of the MC's plot; their own story happens to collide and intertwine with your MC's plot, but is ultimately independently driven.

2) Affecting the ending

The story can't have reached the same ending regardless of the side characters' existence. They must be necessary to the MC in helping them reach their goal faster, more prepared, etc. For example, in Avatar, Aang would not have been able to reach his goal of defeating the fire lord without the help of his friends, who each taught him valuable life lessons as well as combat skills.

Each character must have an independent impact on the MC—don't treat them like a group (e.g. "the side characters," who are one individual collective). Arcane does a great job with this, as each side character has a completely different impact on the MCs (e.g. Silco, Ekko, Caitlyn, and Vi—not a side character but for the purpose of this analysis, bear with me—all have a different impact on Jinx). It isn't just a literal impact. It's what the MC learns, and the theme of the story. They should help the MC realize things about themselves, and contextualize the MC by showing them in different situations with different people.

3) Avoid stereotypes Don't create characters from moulds and conform 100% to the trope: e.g. the "comic relief" can also be "the outlaw/rebel" or the "love interest," the "brooding antihero" can also be the "caregiver" or the "wise one," the "seductive girl" can also be the "science nerd" or the "broken optimist," etc. Mix and match. Everyone has more than 1 personality trait in real life, and probably fulfils more than 1 role to the other people in their lives. Give them intersecting personality traits to flesh them out.

4) Theme and Arc Especially compelling side characters have their own arc and embody their own theme.

Example 1: Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice is more than the brooding love interest—he develops by being less arrogant and learning to see people beyond their social status, and opens up to new ideas, people, and situations.

Example 2: Nico di Angelo from the Percy Jackson series goes on a journey of self-acceptance and embracing his identity, instead of just being the stereotypical emo kid who is constantly in a state of angst.

Example 3: In Arcane, Silco goes from a ruthless crime lord who believes that attachment is weakness, to someone who genuinely cares about his adoptive daughter, so much so that he can't give her up even in exchange for his lifelong dream.

∘₊✧────── ��☼☽ ──────✧₊∘

instagram: @ grace_should_write

Hope this was helpful, and let me know if you have any questions by commenting, re-blogging, or DMing me on IG. Any and all engagement is appreciated :)

Happy writing, and have a great day!

- grace <3

[ddarker-dreams]

a little fluff blurb for bladie from my google docs !! reader here is fem.

Blade almost took it personally when you failed to notice him. 

His presence in your room certainly stands out. Everything about him contradicts the soft pastel colors, abundant flora, and cute finishing touches. Nothing in the universe aside from your kitchenette registers. You hum along with the song playing in your ears, waiting for your tea’s timer to go off. 

He walked in when the countdown read five minutes. Presently, it’s at two. 

You’re wearing dangerously short pajama shorts and an old t-shirt, the band’s logo faded out from years in the wash. He’d considered making himself known, but watching you frolic about proved too tempting. You have your back turned toward him, entirely oblivious, stuck in a little world of your own making. 

Creepy as it may be, Blade considers it soothing to stare at you. Therapeutic, even. A way to unwind from the blood-filled jobs that beckon his mara out to play.

A wicked idea forms in his head. Going without you for so much as a day is enough to seriously dampen his mood. Normally, it’s his enemies that reap the consequences. He’ll miss their vitals just enough that they’re left to go into shock and bleed out, rather than a swift, merciful death. What can he say? It’s their fault for existing and cutting into his time with you. That’s on them.

He stalks over, movements akin to a mountain lion that’s located its unsuspecting prey. 

You’re lifting the teabag out a few moments early. He’s close enough to double as your shadow, the corners of his lips twitching upward from anticipation. 

The second your timer goes off, he strikes, large hands settling on either side of your hips. This unexpected contact earns immediate retaliation. You actually squeak, much to his surprise (and amusement). Your response doesn’t end there. From instinct, you twist your torso around, ready to ward off the threat. 

Maybe it’s because you have an object in your hand, or maybe it’s because your subconscious knows you’re in no real danger, but you don’t materialize your weapon. 

Instead, you try thwacking him with your dripping teabag. 

He easily catches your wrist, thwarting your assault. It takes you all of a millisecond to understand the situation. You use your free hand to slowly remove your in-ears. He can’t help it — your pinched-together eyebrows and scrunched-up nose makes him chuckle. This worsens his crimes from your perspective, which you make evident by a non-threatening glare. 

“Nice weapon,” he drawls. 

“Hey, that’s— that’s unfair,” you complain. “I wasn’t expecting an ambush.” 

Blade raises an eyebrow. “Is it an ambush if you expect it?” 

“Yes? No. Maybe. Quit looking at me like that, I didn’t sleep well last night.” 

“Mhm.” 

He plucks the teabag from your grasp and throws it away. Meanwhile, you remain frozen in time, only moving enough to cross your arms over your chest. The wrath you try directing his way is largely ineffective. Your miffed countenance is akin to a bunny scowling. 

“I was looking forward to your return, but I’ve since changed my mind.” 

“Mm.” 

He hoists you up onto the kitchenette’s countertop. The way the soft flesh of your thighs expands against the marble tempts him, but he knows he won’t be getting anything until your faux frustration is appeased. It won’t take much — or long. He just gazes into your pretty eyes, his bandaged hand cupping your face, the pad of his thumb massaging your cheekbone. You melt for him almost immediately. 

“Everything alright?” You ask, your arms finding their place around his neck. 

To Blade, everything’s more than ‘alright,’ because you’re here. Treating him with care he doesn’t deserve, and love he deserves even less. He used to worry he’d taint you, like clear waters turning opaque from filth. However, it’s as Kafka once said, likely pitying his lovelorn self. 

“Shouldn’t you let her decide that for herself?” 

For reasons genuinely beyond his comprehension, you decided he was worth the trouble. 

His gloved hand settles on your thigh. The irony of how he caresses you with the same hand responsible for hundreds, if not thousands of deaths isn't lost on him. Since regaining a semblance of consciousness, that's all he thought he was good for. Bloodshed and slaughter.

He observes how you shudder through lidded eyes.

You don't look at him as if he's a monster. You should, he often thinks, because he is. There's no sugarcoating the truth. He's become everything he once swore to eradicate. Mad, vengeful, immortal. A product of the Abundance's perversion of the lines separating life and death.

And yet, all those centuries, all that suffering led him to you.

You aren't the light at the end of the tunnel — you're light in its entirety.

Blade is greedy when he slots his lips against yours. He's greedy when he pulls you closer, his bandaged hand tilting your head up, allowing him to devour you with ease. Your scent, your taste, your little laugh at how unabashedly eager he is, everything blurs together and threatens to leave him breathless.

How can he pull away when your legs wrap around his waist? When you thread your hands through his hair, reciprocating his ardor like he's worth even an ounce of your affection? He isn't, he's nothing compared to you, a ghost of a man who can't cross over into the afterlife.

Sometimes, he no longer wants to. Not if you're on this side of eternity.

"Well?" You pull back a few inches from him to ask. As pretty as your smile is, he likes your lips best when they're against his. "You gonna answer my question?"

He furrows his eyebrows together and tries kissing you again. Talking about emotions in any context isn't his forte, you both know that. He's always preferred to express himself through actions than words. However, when you deny him the pleasure of your lips a second time, impatience coils inside his chest.

He huffs.

"The best," he deadpans. You roll your eyes yet laugh anyway.

"You almost pout more than I do," you tease. For this infraction, he gives your thigh a pinch, enjoying the feeling of your soft flesh a little too much. "I just worry, y'know? You become such a sourpuss when we're apart for any length of time."

You aren't wrong, but he'll keep that to himself.

“Okay, okay, stop glaring. C’mere.”

You don’t need to tell him twice. He takes you up on your offer the second you’ve finished making it.

Blade might not know how to tell you how much you mean to him, but that doesn’t mean he can show you.

[elsa-fogen]

Icy's perfect revenge

The Trix retired long time ago. They were believed to be dead, then revealed themselves only to earn amnesty in a perfect chain of events. Maybe they created the said chain but there's no way of proving that and what's the point anyway? Since then witches didn't cause any troubles, so, maybe, they indeed changed?

Or just waiting for perfect opportunity, some believe, but there are no evidence.

Winx Club at this point just a name to refer what they once were. Stella is busy as queen of Solaria, Leyla (Aisha) is looking for a way to bring back her fiance from a magic coma, Flora explores new worlds full of new life, Musa started her own music school, Tecna is a lead scientist in a massive project of creating fortune telling AI, and Roxy finished her studying at Alfea and decided to go back to Earth, to spend more time with her family and make an effort in turning Earth into a better world.

Only Bloom hasn't found her purpose. Being queen of Domino doesn't appeal to her, besides, her parents are still young and are competent rulers, they don't need a replacement just yet. The Earth is nice, but there Bloom feels like she's an old lady in a nursing home. She is so used to be in a constant fights, that she can't live without it, without roaring of spells and rush of adrenaline. She tries to call the Winx Club back, but her friends have their own lifes now. So she joins Magix' special forces - to save smaller worlds from their local dark lords and stuff.

And in one of this missions she gets cursed. Another dying dark lord used his last minutes to cast a deadly ancient curse on Bloom. It poisons her magic and will inevitably kill her in a few years.

And even the fairy dust can't break this curse. It's not just dark, it's black magic, so strong and evil that there no way of breaking it. Well... There is one ritual, that comes from the same black, forbidden magic.

Only few wizards and witches in the entire magic universe know how break this curse. And, what a luck, her only witch friend knows a witch who can do that. Bloom is happy, she will live, and she's willing to pay any price for this chance.

This witch is Icy.

When Bloom sees her, she feels like she's already dead. She can almost hear Icy's cold laugh and her voice saying "Why do you think I would help you, stupid fairy, after everything you've done? No, I will watch you die, and when you do, I'll dance on your grave". But she asks her anyway.

And, to Bloom's shock, she agrees to help. For a price, of course...

Icy asks for Bloom's firstborn, like in some fairytale she used to read in her childhood. She thinks it's a joke, but Icy isn't joking. It's black magic after all and for using It, Icy will have to pay with few years of her own life. So, a child in this case is a fair price. By magic rules. Bloom tries to find someone else who would agree to help her, but fails. People aren't exactly willing to reveal to her that they possess such knowledge. So, Icy with her ridiculous price is her only hope. And Bloom has to make this deal, because she isn't ready to die when the whole life is ahead of her. She thinks to herself that she just will never have children. She doesn't even like them.

Few years later Icy, in a classic villain style, appears at Bloom's wedding, just to remind her of the deal they made. The Winx, Bloom's parents and her new husband Sky are confused and scared, because Bloom starts crying. That means that the witch's words weren't just some nonsense, they indeed made some deal no one knows about. But Bloom just smiles and says that it's nothing to worry about.

❄❄❄

Another few years later Icy is finally ready to continue her own bloodline. But she discovers that her unhealthy lifestyle in her youth and especially a year, spent in a prison that almost killed her, made her unable to have children. She's in rage and despair, she's ready to go and kill Bloom and other Winx nevermind the consequences, but then she's given a book with a provocative title: No men needed for happiness. On the cover is a picture of two smiling women, holding a child that has features from both of them. This book contains spells and rituals for two women to have children. A chance for her.

She spends weeks calculating traits of the best mother for her children, because she doesn't want anything else but perfect...

Bloom is her best option.

At first Icy fees like the fate is laughing at her. The woman she hates more than anything in the world is her best match. But then she realizes. The fate isn't laughing at her, it handles her a chance to make Bloom pay for everything. That deal they made... She can have Bloom's firstborn literally. Make her enemy continue her bloodline, make Bloom's own children hate and despise her. What a perfect revenge.

She calculates the ritual in a way that would drain Bloom's life energy as much as possible, and that would make her bring to the world not just one child but twins, at least. And with this Bloom's resources would be so drained that she either would not be able to have children anymore, or will die trying.

And Bloom can't refuse. They made a deal. Either way Icy will take her first child. But in only one of the options the child will live.

She agrees. She doesn't know what fate Icy has prepared for her.