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ataraxiaspainting · 3 months

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Icarus.

Yan (Emperor) Zhongli x F Reader.

Synopsis: You were taught ever since you opened your eyes to never go against your god. So why do you wish now that you have never opened them at all?

Warnings: Yandere themes, major power imbalances, manipulation, future forced marriage, some violence/gore, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 3k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Little Dark Age by MGMT

As the World Caves In by Matt Maltese

The Other Side Of Paradise by Glass Animals

All Eyes On Me by Bo Burnham

Space Song by Beach House

Murders by Miracle Musical

Tongues & Teeth by The Crane Wives

Teacher’s Pet by Melanie Martinez

A Pearl by Mitski

Isabella’s Lullaby by Takahiro Obata

*~*~*~*

“‘You know that I love you.’ And despite herself, Coraline nodded. It was true. The other mother loved her. But she loved Coraline as a miser loves money, or a dragon loves its gold. In the other mother's button eyes, Coraline knew that the other mother loved her as a possession, nothing more, a tolerated pet whose behavior was no longer amusing.” – Neil Gaiman, Coraline

*~*~*~*

There is no sin greater than to be a bird.

To be a bird is to be devoid of all burdens, soaring above all who are shackled by them, like a warden overseeing prisoners, or the sweetest and ripest peaches up on the highest of branches so no one can reach it. They can go anywhere, birds, with the winds at their call, the very embodiment of freedom itself, something your god has taught all his people to be wary of. Freedom can be a blessing, he told one of his counselors once, but it can also cause humans to be too conceited. There is no sin greater than to be a bird because all others will be envious. Envy is also a sin, one so common that even Archons are said to possess it. Sin gives birth to more sin, more suffering, and thus only the original that birthed it all shall be punished by Celestia’s fury.

There is no greater sin than to be a bird, so the gods put in place cages, made to make those trapped by gold and chains and other things entirely. Birds who are not lured into such traps are dealt with by lightning, making them fall back down to the ground below, the last thing they see is the very sky that punished them. The sky, the stars, the moon, the sun… the entire world will be against you when you are a bird.

It will be that way until you die. The world hates birds and the way they fly and soar. Birds are meant for cages, or to be struck down with their corpses made into trophies.

There is no title greater than to be a hunter.

The sin; to be a bird, freedom… the title; to be a hunter, despotism.

To shoot, to stab, to twist until the prey bursts, is the way of someone whose greatest sin is doing good for this world.

To bleed, to be trapped, to be killed and put on display for all to see, that is what a bird’s purpose truly is, in the eyes of the divine.

They are different, quite so, like different ripples in lakes of mixed blood and water.

You can almost hear them, can’t you?

Celestia favors the strong. Celestia despises the weak. It makes sense to most people, those who were born into power be it money made from blood or strength made from blood. They don’t see the way the world works. The way flies feast upon rotting meat and are soon to be eaten by something bigger. It makes sense for most people, but not for you. Despite everything you have ever been taught from word of mouth, life on the streets teaches you otherwise. For everything you have endured, you have learned that you are not weak. In any case, quite the opposite.

You don’t pray anymore with everyone else, as they keep reciting such things over and over again at the states positioned throughout Liyue as if the emperor would listen to them.

“O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all!” They would hold hands with their bodies being placed in circles around the sculptures. They close their eyes altogether, to not see the sacrifices trapped between them at the monuments, the last thing they see is the Lord of Geo’s face, looking down at them with a stone-cold glare laced with eerie delight. “O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all! O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all!”

To be praying and to be preying are two quite different things, but to the people of Liyue, there is no difference. Blood seeps into the earth all the same, regardless of who sheds it. So, as evidence that the people of Liyue do indeed bow down to Celestia’s every whim, they bring birds of all kinds and steal them of all they have. Their feathers make for excellent clothing, their bones make for stellar weaponry, and their feet make for charms of good luck. Celestia only smiles down upon the strong, after all. Celestia despises freedom because, without the divine, humans would have nothing to leash them onto rationality and laws. Perhaps that is why Mondstadt is very much in chaos now. Their god was said to have betrayed Celestia by giving his people forbidden knowledge of how nature originally ran its course, causing an uproar among the citizens.

No one knows what happened to the god of Mondstadt after that.

Was he smitten down? Did his people turn on him? No one in Liyue knows for certain, as people of Mondstadt are forbidden from entering the land said to be made up of the purest of gold.

“O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all!”

That is the first thing you hear when you wake up, huddled in a corner to prevent yourself from getting even more wet from the rain. You assume that maybe it will be the last thing you hear when you close your eyes for good.

*~*~*~*

You grew up in Qiaoying Village and, once you grew up, got exiled from Qiaoying Village. You stood out, which no one saw in a good light. You were a mischievous, rule-breaking child, always stealing Jadevein Tea Eggs and both tea and tea sets made of fine porcelain. Your older brother taught you lessons far too valuable and unique for the traditionalist settings of Qiaoying Village, lessons like how to pick the elderly’s door’s locks, how to properly identify which pockets had the most Mora, and how to make alleyways a labyrinth for those who chase you.

Your older brother, though, did not partake in thievery himself. You suppose that might have been the first warning sign of many more to come. He made you, a child about half his age, do his dirty work for him. He always hoarded the rewards afterward, and if you got caught or he got caught with whatever treasure you had given him, he would pretend to scold you for going against the way of the Qiaoying. He said it was just pretend, but that look in his eyes still haunts you to this very day. As you got older, though, you got dumber. You crossed a line with everyone. You decided to steal from a Fontainian duke.

It was a foolish decision. Fontainians are known for their high sense of justice, and their tunnel vision when it comes to crimes and punishments. But you were just a child, were you not?

You couldn’t help it. You were just a child. That is what you told yourself then, and it is what you tell yourself now.

No one helped you then, and no one helps you now. Hell, it would be a miracle, a blessing from Celestia, if your older brother came to Liyue Harbor to visit you. But he never loved you, did he? He never loved you, and you never hated him until you saw him for what he truly is. A petty servant of Madam Mei with a spine thinner than that of a twig. He was a coward then, and likely still a coward now. Perhaps it would have been noble of him, while you were still an infant, to use that pocket knife he always carried around. It would have been better for you, for you to not know anything you know about him now.

But he was a coward, your older brother. The person who taught you everything about thievery is also now the person who taught you how important it is to keep your cards close. Life on the streets calls for both, you suppose. Liyue Harbor may not be the friendliest for the homeless, but at the very least it had pockets to swipe into when no one was looking. Old habits die hard. You ended up relying on every memory of the past, no matter how bitter or how deceivingly sweet they were. You bore it. You bore it all. Every memory, every fragment of a lie, and every fragment of a half-truth. Life is never so simple after all, is it?

Your life was never perfect, and therefore still is not now. But you know deep in your heart that you would prefer this life over seeing your older brother’s face ever again.

But now, with eyes brighter than amber staring above you as you lay, your arm broken, you wish that your brother had taught you some fighting skills instead of everything else he taught you.

But he was a coward, and so are you.

To be fair, though, he never met the emperor and never thought that he would. So did you. No one in Qiaoying Village did, most likely. It was so far from the proclaimed harbor made of gold and trader’s blood and prayers. This was where the emperor lived, in his castle in the mountains surrounding Lingju Pass and Mount Tianheng. It was made up of the finest gold and wood and jewels. Only the best for the emperor, while people like you get mere pebbles. That is why, when you saw yet another stranger in a white cloak roaming around the alleyways, you attempted to strike. Your mistake.

Your mistake.

You were on the ground in an instant, your arm breaking so loudly an elderly man on his deathbed could hear it.

The stranger’s eyes glittered like gold.

Frozen gold, perhaps, with how he was staring down at you with such disappointment.

So, he stared down at you.

You stared down at your arm.

You should have known better. But you are just someone trying to live, are you not? It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. But that white cloak the man is wearing with the sigil of geo on the back, one of the few symbols of the emperor himself, should have made you not attempt to pickpocket him. You should have known better. You really should have known better. Should you apologize? You are already as good as dead though, aren’t you?

Does a death sentence await you?

Life? Death? Prison? Life. Death. Prison.

Escape.

You have to escape.

But the emperor seems to know what you are doing, what you are planning.

So he stops you with a simple hand raised, and pillars of geo appear out of nowhere, trapping you in the corner. Now there is nowhere to run.

He stares down at you.

You stare down at your feet, all mangled up from a life made of thievery and poverty.

He doesn’t speak. Neither do you. You prefer it that way.

You are in a cage. But he is not.

Please.

Please don’t kill me.

Please.

*~*~*~*

Is it a sin to indulge? Perhaps it is, perhaps it is not. Perhaps it depends. Is the indulgence centered in reality or fantasy? This escape attempt, perhaps, is both.

Like the many that came before it, the only sounds you can hear is the rain, the water falling from the glass windows like teardrops, and sometimes you can swear you hear the sound of someone weeping. Despite everything you have gone through though, you do not weep with them, whoever they are. You only keep stepping on ahead for a brighter future, one where you sneak off to Sumeru, a land that prioritizes knowledge over riches. You’d have a better life there than here, you think. Anywhere but here you would run off to actually, even if it was Snezhnaya.

You are treated well, too well.

You still don’t know why instead of throwing you in the dungeons, Morax placed your unconscious body in one of the many, many guest rooms that were spread about in his castle.

You are treated far too well, almost to the point that it is maddening. Everything is so perfect, from the morning birds outside your window that wake you up every morning when it just so happens to be time for breakfast to the hairbrush you use to put your hair up when it is time to sleep, the design intricately laced with jade and topaz. Perfect, perfect, perfect. It’s maddening, sickening, how perfect everything is. You wish he had just put you in a cell because at least then everything would not have been so planned out for you, even the type of flowers you saw in the gardens that week.

“Damn it all…”

In your opinion, the clothes you received today were more intricate than usual. The sleeves are puffed and transition from white to a deep teal color. The dress itself showcases delicate lace patterns of glaze lilies around the waist and wrists, while the skirt is impractically long for any running. Strangely, the inside of the skirt features a constellation pattern, though it seems to be a design meant for your eyes alone. The purpose of this starry sky motif remains unclear. The dress, like everything else, appears flawless and fits you perfectly, almost as if it was tailored specifically for you. Given Morax's wealth, you can't help but entertain the possibility. However, the overwhelming perfection of it all borders on madness. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect, so damn perfect.

Today, you were not given shoes, presumably due to the rain and the consequent cancellation of your garden visit with Morax, where you typically indulge in tea and wine. As you approached the staircase leading to the dining room, however, the guards obstructed your path. Their actions were gentle, but their words were not. They formed a human barricade, preventing your descent. One guard clicked their tongue disapprovingly, while the other remained silent. Perhaps they harbored some disdain towards you. The servants in this establishment either treated you with utmost care or completely disregarded your presence, so it was not entirely surprising that the guards displayed a semblance of dislike.

The real surprise was you not being allowed to go to the dining room to eat.

“The emperor wants you to stay in your room for the time being. He shall see you shortly there.”

So, you went back, albeit muttering curses along the way. Due to your lack of shoes and the guards not even allowing you to go downstairs, this escape attempt is as short-lived as a moth flying much too close to a flame.

As you were told, Morax came in his usual attire, black and brown robes with a geo sigil on the back.

“...”

“I have been told that you have been getting a bit too curious with your wandering.”

Ah, straight to the point, it would seem.

There is no point trying to beat around the bush when it comes to Morax. “It is not like there is anything else to do here.”

He sits beside you on the bed, not too close but not too far either. A perfect balance. “I can give you other activities to do if you would like. I can also answer some questions you have since you’ll be living here from now on.”

“...This isn’t temporary…” You look down at the arm he broke, a time which feels like a millennium ago. “Am I being charged?” Your question is quietly said. “Aren’t thieves simply sent to cells for a few moons?”

His chuckle was unexpected, causing a slight surprise. Morax, who was typically expressionless, wore a smile on his face. Despite the possibly good intentions behind it, the sight and sound were unsettling and made your skin crawl.

“...You don’t tell me anything.” You whisper under your breath. That much is clear. Despite Morax's little attempts to conceal it, his secrecy is unmistakable. You can't help but feel like a naive child stating the obvious.

“You are here for multiple reasons. For instance… you remind me of someone. As such, you must have questions, if you are anything like her.” His eyes glaze over you, from the top of your head where your hair is half put up with a hairpin to the anklet just hovering over your right foot. “All humans are born with an innate sense to pry. I won’t judge, as I am an Archon.” Are his words heartfelt? “Through my veins flow gold, but yours flow with sanguine, life, and desires.”

His hand reaches forward, but he does not touch you. “You must see yourself as better than us because of this. Am I correct?”

“My feelings are not as monochrome as they seem to you. They are complex, quite so. But you are right, in some regard.”

“This is why I cannot stand the so-called divine.”

“Another reason as to why you are here. You are a sleeper of such, and I intend to help you open your eyes to the truth.”

You look at his eyes, seeing all the horrors within their depths.

The emperor known as Morax possesses eyes of pure gold, along with attractive features and pale, rosy lips that curl into a sickly sweet smile. Your body instinctively reacts, urging you to flee before your mind can fully comprehend the situation. However, your brain, awakening and analyzing the situation, is interrupted by the overpowering force of instinct, echoing the same warning as your body: the charming smile is a mere facade, reminiscent of something unsettlingly artificial. It is akin to a sculpture with painted skin and eyes or a doll with exaggerated, intricate features. This man, with his literal golden eyes, his potentially persuasive words, and his captivating yet unnerving countenance, is someone you cannot trust.

Desperate to escape, you attempt to run, only to find that arms and hands, seemingly made of stone, emerge from the walls, gripping and restraining your own. Two of these strong hands ascend, slithering towards the center of your back, forcefully pushing you down into a bow, while you remain compelled to gaze upwards. Your focus remains fixated solely on the emperor's eyes, observing the eloquent patterns of gold within them.

The caress of their touch is tender upon your cheeks, unlike solid ones that demand for you to stay.

“You shall become my consort and see the gates of Celestia for yourself. Humans are made to worship, after all. The divine are made to simply awaken those who have strayed off the path of destiny.”

*~*~*~*

To possess the gift of sight, encompassing all, is the gravest transgression one can commit. Thus, those winged creatures who lack this awareness are banished to the depths of the earth, their vision, their literal eyes stripped away until their cries reverberate to the surface, where the emperor Morax shall pronounce the ultimate verdict.

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xxxdreamscapexxx · 4 months

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Face the consequences

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 9k

Summary: This is the second part of "Consequences" that many of you requested.

On the second day of your stay with your parents, your mother invites you and Wanda to a day out and you decide to use it as an opportunity to tease your girlfriend and push her buttons, resulting in a lesson you won't soon forget.

Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, oral, fingering, magic use, magical restraints, finger sucking, use of butt plug, pearl underwear, edging, ruined orgasms, pussy spanking, Mommy!Kink, top!Wanda, Bottom!Reader

This is a fic for all the people who asked me to be mean. I hope this will give you a glimpse of what that might look like.

Masterlist with all my works.

Waking up this morning, you felt pretty good. Sure, you wanted to sleep in a little, but the memory of your wild night with Wanda and her touch were more than enough to shift your priorities.

Unfortunately for you, instead of getting a mind-blowing orgasm, you had gotten edged, denied and then swiftly plugged and you had to watch Wanda get dressed, her smug smile taunting you, while you recovered. That was certainly not in your plans. But you couldn’t deny that you had asked for it. You should have known that pushing her buttons will get you a punishment. Just like you should have known that she wouldn’t take it easy on you the second time around.

When she had put on a pair of jeans and a clean shirt, Wanda rummaged through the clothes you had packed and handed you a skirt and a comfortable top, coaxing you up and helping you get dressed.

“You look beautiful, baby.” She smiled, kissing your cheek and offering you her hand, guiding you to the mirror, so you could take a look at yourself.

“Thank you.” You returned her smile shyly, nuzzling your face into her in front of the mirror, before making your way to your drawer, so you could pull out a pair of panties to wear.

“Oh, no, baby, I already picked out the perfect pair for you.” Wanda objected, taking the panties from your hands and inspecting them briefly, showing her clear displeasure at your choice, before putting them back with the rest of your clothes dismissively.

She gave you a wicked smirk, while she reached into the back pocket of her jeans, though you saw a brief flash of red in her eyes, that told you that whatever she had in mind, she had just conjured with her magic and you waited with bated breath for her to pull them out.

When she did, you gasped, making the woman’s smile grow even wider as she handed them to you. It was a black, lacy thong, though even a thong was a strong word for what she was handing you. It was ridiculously small and to your shock, the front of it included a string of white pearls which would end up right where your clit is.

“Wanda…” You breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, baby? A pretty thong for my pretty girl. And it will feel so good too.” She promised, taking it from your hands and bending down, so she could help you step into it.

Wanda dragged the soft lacy material up your thighs teasingly slowly and she took great pleasure in settling the pearls against your clit and securing the strings of the tiny thong around your waist. Her hand sneaked back, cupping your ass too, before she put a little pressure on the plug inside you, playing with it, until she made you moan. When she was done, she made you hold up your skirt, so she could step back and take a good look at you.

“Perfect.” She praised, offering you her hand. “Come on, walk around for me and tell me how it feels.” She encouraged, her eyes fixed on your body.

You did as you were told, shaky legs almost wobbling as you made a few steps around the room. The pearls quickly got covered in your wetness, copious amounts of your juices and Wanda’s cum from this morning making it easy for them to start sliding over your clit with every step you took, while the plug gave you a subtle, but undeniable feeling of being full. The combination of the two, working together to stimulate your body was impossible to ignore for a single second and you knew that you’d be a complete mess before you even finished breakfast.

“Well?” Wanda raised a brow at you. “How do you feel, baby?”

“So horny, Mommy.” You admitted, stepping into her arms and looking up at her pleadingly. “Please make it better, please. I promise to be so good.” You begged, leaning in to kiss her gently.

Your girlfriend accepted the kiss gladly, arms wrapping around you and pulling you flush against her, while she deepened it, her tongue playing with yours.

“Later, darling. Your parents are already waiting for us. Your mom has been cooking breakfast for a while. We can’t be rude and let her efforts go to waste.”

Knowing that you were ready to argue her point and insist, Wanda was quick to shush you with a finger to your lips and she gave you one last reassuring smile, before she started leading you towards the door.

“Be good for me today, and Mommy will make you feel better tonight.” She promised, before she opened the door and led you out, holding your hand as you started descending the stairs.

Walking down the stairs proved much harder than you expected, each step making the pearls move against your sensitive clit. The plug only added to that feeling, arousal spreading through your entire body and making you give Wanda yet another pleading look. God, you needed her so badly. But she ignored you, helping you walk down confidently and allowing you to lean on her the entire time.

Internally, she was elated. Her perfect girl, all sweet and cute in her outfit, looking so innocent. Only Wanda knew what was hiding underneath all that, knew how much she had dirtied you up just minutes ago and that knowledge made her feel so proud. No one else was allowed to see you the way she did, touch you the way she did, make you feel as good as she did. Only she could bring out this version of you and only she would ever get to enjoy it. She would make sure of it. She would make sure that you stay hers forever. She’d put a ring on your finger one day, she’ll marry you, make you the mother of her children… She knew all that without a shadow of a doubt. Even if it wasn’t the right time just yet, she was sure that it will all fall into place one day.

With thoughts such as these, she made her way into the dining room, greeting your father, who was already seated at the table. You followed her, steps slow and calculated, but nothing really helped. Each movement, each step, each time you squeezed your legs together, the pearls would put pressure on your clit or slide over it, adding to your arousal and desperation.

You greeted your father too, sitting gingerly at your usual spot at the table, feeling the plug nestle firmly into place, now that you were putting constant pressure on it. God, you needed a distraction. And just as if your mother had heard your internal prayer, she walked in, cheerful and sweet, carrying a tray of food that she left in the middle of the table.

“Good morning girls! How did you sleep?” She asked with a smile.

“Wonderful.” Wanda spoke up, smiling charmingly at your mother. “And the food looks amazing!” She complimented, her eyes scanning the food, as if trying to pick what she should eat first. “Y/N was so eager for breakfast too. I think she misses your cooking.” She added looking at you adoringly.

“Yeah, mom, everything looks so good.” You confirmed, nodding.

“Well, then what are you waiting for? Eat!” She encouraged, urging you to start filling your plates.

You shot Wanda a glare, while your mom was taking a seat. “I sure am eager, just not for breakfast.” You thought, shifting a little in your seat and squeezing your legs together with need. “And what else could you be hungry for?” Wanda’s voice came, seemingly from inside your head, the woman smirking at you knowingly, raising an eyebrow at you, while she took a sip of her orange juice. “Something… Filling.” You smirked back. “Like your cock, maybe?” You suggested. “You haven’t earned my cock, sweetie.” Wanda’s voice filled your head. “If you did, you wouldn’t be in your current predicament.” She said with an air of finality, pulling away from your thoughts, so the two of you could focus on the conversation your parents were trying to start.

Wanda was as charming as ever, your parents completely under her spell as they spoke, her smile growing wider with each passing minute. She wasn’t just happy that they genuinely liked her, though. She was also listening to you, your hazy, lustful thoughts like a whisper in the back of her head. You were driving yourself crazy. She didn’t even have to do any work, when you were doing all the teasing for her.

By the time breakfast was finished and your parents had left the two of you alone at the table, each one attending to their choirs, you were a mess. The small, lacy thong had soaked through, wetness coating your inner things and you were almost humping the chair for relief.

You looked so beautiful to Wanda like this, so precious. She wanted to pull you into her lap and cover you in kisses, to stroke your soft hair and soothe you. Truthfully, she wanted to keep you exactly like this, always. She wanted you desperate and needy, so she could admire you in this state, with your glossy eyes and your parted lips, with your fingers clinging to her and your mind clouded by thoughts of her and her alone. She wanted to come home and find you like this, to wake up to you, in this state, so she could have you whenever she wanted. Not that you would ever refuse her. You always wanted her, could never get enough of her, just as she could never have her fill of you. But this was different. You looked so vulnerable, so exposed… So ready for her taking. It’s really a shame that you had run your smart little mouth this morning. Otherwise, she might have taken you upstairs and fucked you. Then again, if she did, you wouldn’t be looking at her the way you currently did. And she never wanted that look to fade. It was almost like she was split in two. The part of her that loved to please you screamed at her to take you right now and make you cum until you can’t anymore. Then there was the other one… How could Wanda ever choose? Before she could, the kitchen door opened and your mother came in, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Girls, what would you say, if we go out for a bit? Just the three of us. You can help me do some shopping, since I haven’t been out in the shops in ages and then we can have lunch together at that restaurant we always used to go to? What do you say?” She offered with a smile.

“What about dad?” You asked, your eyebrows knitting together.

“He has some things to do this morning. You know him, he has to keep busy. But he’ll be fine.” Your mom assured you.

“Ok, we can go out.” You agreed, thinking that this could be a nice distraction.

“Well, then I’ll go get ready. I shouldn’t take too long.” She told you, already making her way upstairs.

“Let’s go get ready too.” Wanda offered, extending her hand to you and helping you up, her eyes sparkling.

She took you to your room with a smile, closing the door behind you, before her magic left you bare, almost making you squeal in surprise at the sudden action.

“Wanda!” You reprimanded, although you weren’t quite sure what for. That thong that she gave you had disappeared too and with it, the pressure against your clit, which now throbbed for attention.

“Don’t you want to clean up, before we go out, honey?” She asked, mischief clear in her voice.

She undressed hastily and led you to the small bathroom, getting the water just right, before she started to wash you, her hands roaming your body. It was just as teasing, having her naked, as she caressed you, her body pressed against yours under the stream of hot water.

It felt so familiar, having her take care of you like this. Her lips were gentle as she kissed you, her hands soothing and her touch light. Her hands would always roam, her hunger for you insatiable, so you thought nothing of it, when they landed on your ass, kneading. What you were surprised to feel, however, was when they started to play with the jewelled plug there, making you moan in desperation.

“Such a good girl.” She praised. “Are you enjoying your little toy, baby?” Wanda asked, her fingers putting a little more pressure on it. She could feel her own pussy twitch in response to her cruel game, making her even more excited for the night she had planned for you both. “Is it making my sweet girl all horny for Mommy?”

“Yes!” You hissed, your hips canting towards her in search for any pressure where you needed her most. “Need you so badly, Mommy. Please, make it better. Please. I’ve been good.”

“As pretty as you are, begging me like this, you know why Mommy can’t make it better.” She responded softly, as if explaining something very difficult to a child. “I have to teach you a lesson, my darling. You can’t go around, acting like you did last night.” She said in that same tone. “Your little plug should be a nice reminder.” She concluded. “And if you’re good, Mommy will reward you tonight.” She promised.

When you were out of the shower, Wanda used a soft towel to dry you off and picked out a comfortable outfit for you to wear, while shopping. She got dressed quickly, not wanting to make your mother wait. When the two of you were at the door of your room, ready to go out, she took your chin in her hand, turning your face towards her and making you look up at her eyes.

“You’re going to be good for me today, won’t you, love?” She asked with a firm tone.

“Yes, Mommy, I’ll be good.” You nodded, eyes sparkling.

And you meant to keep your word, you really did. For a little while, you even managed it. You had visited a few stores with Wanda and your mother, you even got through lunch without any major incidents. Well… You did, tease Wanda a little bit, licking your fingers clean in a way that could only be described as sinful, but you knew your girlfriend wouldn’t hold it against you. She could always tell when you were being playful and she had expected such behaviour from you.

On your way to the next store, she even leaned in close, whispering to you what a good girl you’re being for her, masking her praise with a soft kiss to your cheek.

It was going well and perhaps you should have left things as they are, but the constant stimulation, the subtle feeling of fullness, the growing need between your legs just wouldn’t give you peace. Being edged this morning and then left denied had only served to heighten your arousal and despite the shower you took before leaving home, your panties were soaked, clinging to your folds and reminding you of how badly you needed Wanda to make it better.

With that in mind, you grabbed the most daring dress you could find in the store and you went to the changing rooms, quickly putting it on and looking at yourself shortly in the mirror to check if it was truly going to have the effect you wanted. Then again, how could it not, since it was a mini black dress with a plunging V-shaped neckline that stopped just above your bra.

“Hey, Wanda!” You called out, peaking from the changing room to make sure she’s near. “Would you come in? Tell me what you think.” You said shortly, before hiding yourself.

You waited with bated breath, as you heard her steps approaching, fixing your hair, to make sure you looked pretty for her, when you heard her voice.

“Let me see, baby.” She said softly, pushing the door open and sneaking inside, only to be left with her mouth hanging open at the sight of you.

“It’s a nice dress, isn’t it?” You said, a wide smile tugging at your lips.

“As gorgeous as you look, my love, that dress is way too short.” She said, eyes still glued to your chest and to your barely covered thighs, though she was starting to recover.

“What do you mean, I think it fits nicely.” You objected, turning around to let her have a view of you from the back as well. The dress was hugging you nicely, the curve of your ass perfectly outlined by the dress.

“And where would you like to wear such a dress?” Wanda’s eyes narrowed, her breathing growing erratic as she watched you.

“Don’t we have that donation dinner soon? I still don’t have an outfit…” You suggested. You knew such a thought would not sit well with your girlfriend, who hated the thought of other people ogling what’s hers.

“You want to dress like that for those rich, old men the government is trying to get money from? I don’t think so… That’s way too short. But if you like it so much, we can get it and you can wear it for me at home.” She tried to reason with you. To her, this was a compromise and the best she was willing to offer, considering that she could see your panties every time you so much as leaned forwards.

“Well, that’s no fun…” You pouted, suddenly pulling the dress off of you and leaving it on the hanger. “I guess I’ll have to find something else.” You said, running your fingers through your hair to get it out of the way. “Perhaps I should start with some new underwear… These panties are practically soaked.” You pouted.

“Oh, are they?” Wanda gave you a sympathetic look that was entirely fake. “Let Mommy see.” She stepped closer, hands circling you and gliding over your body teasingly.

She wasted no time to claim your lips in a kiss, her tongue darting out to meet yours, while her hands travelled lower, nimble fingers sneaking under the waistband of your panties and between your folds, instantly feeling the wetness there.

“Oh, my poor, sweet girl.” She gasped, playing with your wetness and spreading it generously. “That must be so uncomfortable.” She mused, the tip of her finger barely dipping inside you, before she pulled out, refusing to give you any relief.

“Yes, Mommy, it’s so icky. I need you to make it better, please.” You pleaded.

“Oh, I know, baby, I know. Mommy will help you when we get back. For now, I need you to be good for me and get dressed.” She instructed, pulling her hand away entirely.

You pouted, letting out a frustrated groan and giving her one last pleading, hopeful look, before you gathered your clothes and started putting them on, while Wanda leaned against the changing room door with a smirk and she lazily licked her fingers clean. She walked out behind you, giving your ass a teasing pat, that only served to tease you further.

If you were in any other state of mind, you would have known that you should have left things as they are. But after being edged, denied, teased and left needy, you weren’t really thinking straight. And you thought that if you teased Wanda enough, she would finally give in and fuck you. If only you knew how foolish that was…

But you did it anyway. You went ahead to show her 3 more dresses, each more revealing than the last, having the audacity to actually walk out of the changing room wearing the last one, parading it around the store and letting all the other unsuspecting shoppers ogle you. That was strike one. Wanda’s eyes were dark and downright stormy, as she tried to keep her composure. Even your mother, who usually had an open mind, thought that your choice was too much.

Strike two came, when you called her into the changing room of another store, only for her to find you in your underwear, rubbing your pussy over the damp material of your panties.

“What do you think, baby? Is this a good look for me?” You asked boldly.

“It is.” She agreed, after getting over the initial shock. “But you should know better than to touch your pussy without my permission.” She reminded. “And you should be careful with your little displays.” She added as she stepped closer, pushing your hand away from your pussy, so she could replace it with her own, gentle fingers gliding over your clothed clit and making you moan. “Unless you’d like me leave you untouched tonight as well?” Wanda added, the threat clear in her voice and darkened eyes.

“No, Mommy, please. I just need you to make me feel good. Please?” You begged, clinging to her desperately, while she teased your pussy.

“If you want me to make it better, you’ll behave yourself.” Wanda said sternly, her hand patting your pussy softly in a way that reminded you of nights when her touch has been less than gentle.

Before you could say anything else, she walked away, leaving you to dress yourself with the very uncomfortable feeling of your full ass, aching pussy and damp underwear still clinging to you.

Thankfully, this was the last store you had on your list for the day and you all gathered your items and brought them to the check-out counter, happy to finally go home for the day. Wanda gathered all the items the two of you were buying, wanting to treat you and she handed them over to the cashier, who looked up to the two of you.

“Oh my God, Y/N is that you?” He exclaimed, his eyes lighting up.

“Allan, hi!” You greeted, suddenly recognizing him.

“You know, I thought I recognized you, when I saw a gorgeous woman walking around the store in that black dress. You looked amazing.” He complimented openly, bringing a tint of redness to your cheeks.

“Thank you.” You said softly, feeling Wanda step closer to you, pressing into your side protectively.

She gave the man an expectant look, her eyes fixated on his hands that didn’t seem to be scanning any of your items, but was instead flirting with you. A gesture he seemed to notice, but chose to ignore for the time being.

“How long has it been since high-school?” He continued. “You know, you’ve grown even more beautiful than I remember.” He said next, his words causing Wanda’s fists to close in annoyance. “Why don’t we go out some time?” He suggested.

While he was focused on you, he seemed to miss the way Wanda’s eyes flashed red for a brief second before she got a hold of her magic and reigned it in. Even so, she was deeply displeased at his attempts to flirt with you, her arm wrapping around you possessively and pulling you even closer to her body.

“Well…” You tried to think, looking for a polite way to turn him down.

“She has a girlfriend.” Wanda snapped, growing more impatient with each second. Her fingers dug into your side, refusing to let go and just the feeling of it told you that she had reached her limit. Strike three.

“Oh.” Allan suddenly looked between the two of you in shock, before he started to hurriedly scan your items.

“Yeah, Wanda and I are together.” You confirmed, a smile of genuine affection spreading over your features at the thought.

That seemed to make your girlfriend feel more at ease and her hold on you loosened, her eyes growing warmer at the recognition. Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t going to earn you any leniency. Not that you minded. You were really looking forward to seeing Wanda’s rougher side once more. Especially with the day you’ve been having.

Thankfully your shopping trip came to an end soon after and the three of you returned back to your parents’ house and you were allowed some respite. Wanda was even kind enough to allow you to remove the plug, seeing as you practically couldn’t stand still with how needy you’d gotten and she even cleaned you up, joining you in the shower and caressing you softly.

When you joined everyone downstairs you were forced to endure the moment you dreaded most, your mom showing Wanda all of your childhood albums, starting with your cutest baby pictures and moving forward, all the way to your graduation album.

By the time they were done discussing you and fawning over how precious you looked, your mom sharing way too many embarrassing stories, it was almost time for dinner and you thanked all your lucky stars that this day would soon be over and in just a few short hours, you’ll finally get what you’d been craving all day.

This time you had the good sense to refrain from pushing Wanda’s buttons further, and the two of you made it to your room without incident, which is why you thought it would be wise to pull her in for a kiss just as soon as your bedroom door closed.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day.” You confess against her lips, your hands sneaking under her shirt quickly.

“Oh, I know. You caused quite the scenes today, because of that needy pussy.” Wanda smirked, walking you backwards towards the bed and watching you fall on it, just as soon as the backs of your legs hit the mattress.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You feigned innocence, batting your eyelashes at her.

“No?” Wanda scoffed. “Well, let me remind you, baby. Because you’ve been such a bad girl today.”

Your girlfriend undressed you quickly, your clothes and hers falling on the floor in rapid succession, until you were both bare. She was pleasantly surprised to find your panties already wet and her eyes zeroed in on the way a string of your arousal clung to them, as she was dragging them down your legs.

“So fucking wet for me already.” She gasped in awe, her fingers running through your wetness almost on instinct. She found it fascinating, how badly you wanted her, how wet you got for her, how much you needed her. “And so God damned beautiful.” She complimented with a sigh, eagerly entering you with a finger.

Your walls fluttered around her, welcoming her and you arched your back in pleasure.

“More, please Mommy.” You begged, your hips moving against Wanda’s hand eagerly, in search for relief. You needed her to move faster, to fuck you deeper, to stretch out your walls further, so you could feel full.

She obliged you without protest, calculating eyes following each movement you made, as she added another finger, your needy moans like music to her ears. Soon her tongue joined as well, swirling over your clit once and waiting for the litany of pleas, before she would do it again.

Considering the way she played with you, you should have known that it wouldn’t be so easy, but with her fingers buried deep inside you and her tongue swirling over your clit, it took no time at all, before you were ready to explode, the sensation overshadowing all rational thought. It would have been so sweet too. You could feel yourself getting to that glorious edge, your hands gripping the sheets and your back arching in anticipation of it, when Wanda’s mouth and tongue pulled away, looking up at you with a wide, devilish smirk.

“Are you close, baby?” She asked, her voice husky.

“Yes, I’m so close.” You nodded frantically. Her fingers twisted inside you, curling to hit your sweet spot while she spoke, getting you even closer.

“You know good girls ask for permission, when they want to come, don’t you?” She reminded with that same sweet tone, amusement and excitement glistening in her eyes.

“Oh God…” You moaned, when her fingers curled again. Your clit was throbbing and you knew that the slightest touch against it would set you off. “Please, Mommy, may I come? Please!” You begged, your eyes closing in anticipation of her tongue returning.

What came however, was Wanda’s deep, raspy chuckle. It sounded menacing, all of the amusement drained from it.

“Did you really think it would be that easy, sweetheart?” She asked, as she continued to fuck you with her fingers, her movements slow and calculated to keep you on the edge, without letting you fall over. “After everything you did today? After refusing to listen to Mommy, after parading yourself around the stores… Do you really think you deserve an orgasm, hm?”

“Mommy, please! I just wanted to play a little.” You tried to explain with a pout, your hips starting to cant up to meet Wanda’s teasing fingers. “Please, I need it so much.” You whined, your hands twisting the sheets under you in frustration.

“Is that so…” Wanda raised an eyebrow at you, smirking. “Well, now Mommy’s going to play a little too.” She said calmly, before wrapping her mouth around your clit again.

She made teasingly slow circles with her tongue, gliding it gently over your sensitive clit. She was having so much fun teasing you like this, working you up to the edge again.

“Mommy!” You squirmed under her. “Please, can I come? Please!” You begged once more, but Wanda hurried to remove herself from you entirely.

“No.” She stated bluntly. “I don’t think I’ll let you have an orgasm tonight.” She announced, as if it was the most mundane topic. “Mommy has to teach you how to be a good girl.” She told you, smirking at how pathetically you whined.

With a wave of her hands, she secured your wrists and ancles, red magic swirling over them and holding them in place, making sure that your hands were pinned above your head and your legs were being spread wide open.

“I’ll be good, Mommy, please!” You tried again, your limbs instinctively trying to fight against her magical bonds, even when you knew it was futile.

“Yeah? You’ll be my good girl tonight?” Wanda asked with mocking softness. “Well, let’s see…”

She enters you without much warning, but your walls welcome her happily, your pussy pulsing and squeezing her desperately. She curls them with each thrust, while she looks at your face with a mix of sadistic pleasure and tender admiration. She makes sure to hit your sweet spot every time, watching the pleasure building within you, reaching the sweet edge of release with a strangled moan, before she cruelly pulls away.

She waits for you to open your eyes, waits for them to meet hers in pleading desperation, before her hand rises and it lands with a harsh slap on your pussy. She does it just once, but it’s enough to have your eyes water and for your body to start squirming again.

“Will you forget to ask permission again?” She asks, getting straight to the point, grabbing your face in her hand and forcing you to look at her. You only shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak and she raises an eyebrow at you. “Words, baby.” She reminds, softer this time, her hold loosening and turning into a caress.

“No, Mommy, I won’t forget to ask for permission again.” You shake your head, but you answer her this time.

“Good.” She smiles, her gaze turning towards your needy pussy. “Then let’s try again.” She says with smile.

Her fingers return soon after, probing and teasing your pussy, this time she circles your clit with them, slow and gentle motions that drive you wild with need. Anything she does feels amazing at this point, really. Even that slap on your pussy, despite the pain and the sudden harshness, was almost good enough to trigger your orgasm.

“Mommy, may I please come?” You whine, when you feel yourself reaching the edge. The way she touches you is overwhelmingly good. Too good. And her hand doesn’t pull away.

“No. You may not.” She responds firmly. “Hold it.”

“I can’t. Please! Please, Mommy, you have to stop!” You plead with her, while you try to hold on to anything that might keep you grounded.

Wanda’s hand pulls away, leaving you edged once more and an almost evil smirk appears on her lips when she thinks about what you’d said.

“Such a good girl.” She praises softly, kissing your parted lips and making you open your eyes, so you can look at her. “You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?” She asks, smirking. You can see the mischief behind her words, but you can’t be sure why yet, your brain too foggy and too overwhelmed to really think it through.

“I want to be good for you, Mommy.” You repeat, almost on autopilot.

“Good. Well, good girls don’t come without permission, do they?” She asks, but at this point, you’re pretty sure it’s rhetorical. “And you already know that you’re not allowed to come tonight, so it’s pointless to ask for permission anyway, isn’t it? If you want to be good, you should be begging me to deny you instead.” She says triumphantly, smirking when your eyes go wide with realization and disappointment.

She doesn’t give you much time to say anything, before she’s making her way down your body, kissing your breasts and licking over your erect nipples, leaving a few marks on your tender flesh, then moving even lower, settling between your legs and caressing your things, before she lowers her head and starts to lick your pussy.

She moans at your taste, trying to delve in deeper, gathering your juices on her tongue and swallowing them greedily, before she swirls her tongue over your clit, making you moan and arch under her.

You try to fight the pleasure, you try to keep yourself from falling too fast, but it’s inevitable. She’s too good, she knows your body too well and you know it’s a losing battle.

“Oh my God, Mommy!” You scream. You want her to make you come. You need her to make you come. You need relief. And you want to beg her to let you. “Mommy, please!” You utter out, desperate, not wanting to say the words that will condemn you to denial. You refuse to utter them.

When she can sense that you’re too close, she pulls away, edging you once again and she gives you a moment of reprieve, for you to catch your breath, before she makes you look down at her.

Her hand rises again, slapping your pussy with a grin that only widens when you try to escape her. She looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to say something and when you don’t, she does it again, her fingers landing on your clit this time and making your eyes fill with tears again.

“I’m sorry, please!” You try to beg, not really sure what to say to get yourself out of this situation. “Please, I’ll be good.” You try again, when her hand raises for the third time.

“You’ll be good, baby?” Wanda smirks, satisfied to see all the defiance leaving you. She enters you gently and curls her fingers inside you, causing a surge of relief to pass through your body at the stimulation. “And what do good girls say to Mommy, when they’re close?” She asks expectantly, using her other hand to draw circles over your clit.

The stimulation hits you full force and you gasp, trying to fight off the pleasure, trying to keep yourself from letting go, but you can’t. You’re already so close, she’s been keeping you on the edge for a while now and she knows it. When she puts some extra pressure on your clit, you moan, instantly surrendering.

“Mommy, please don’t let me come!” You say pleadingly, your body writhing, when she pulls her hands away once more.

The thoughts in your head and the sensations you’re experiencing are so conflicting it almost hurts. You want to come so badly, your whole body is on fire and each small touch makes you crave your release so much more. But you also want to be a good girl for Wanda, you crave her praise and her soft dominance, you crave her approval. You want to make her happy. And you know how much this makes her happy. You can feel the internal elation in her, when you do as you’re told.

“That’s my good girl.” Wanda smiles, her hands running up and down your thighs soothingly, while she waits for the edge to wear off. “You did so well, my darling.” She tells you softly, kissing the insides of your thighs.

“Thank you, Mommy.” You breathe out a sigh of relief. It feels so good, when she says that and means it.

Your words only spur Wanda on, giving her another wicked idea and she starts to tease your pussy with her fingers, entering you gently and building another orgasm within you. She holds eye contact with you as she does it, she wants to see the defeat in your eyes this time, when you beg her and she’s not disappointed.

“Please, Mommy, please don’t let me come.” You say with tearful eyes and even though you expect the edge it still hurts, when she pulls away.

“Very good.” Wanda is practically in heaven, her pussy dripping with excitement at how well you’re behaving, how well you’re taking it, but especially at your obedience. “Now say “Thank you” to Mommy, for being so nice and denying you.” She coaxes out of you.

“Thank you for denying me, Mommy.” You say softly, voice shaking at how hard it is to utter those words. “Thank you for letting me be a good girl and not letting me come.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot, when you say that.” Wanda smirks. “You have no idea how turned on that makes me.” She confesses, not even trying to hide how much it pleases her. “Now, baby, Mommy’s going to lick your pussy, but you’re not allowed to have an orgasm.” She tells you. “You’ll be a good girl and beg me to deny you, won’t you?” She asks you expectantly. “And while you do that, Mommy’s going to have some fun with herself.”

For the next long minutes, that’s exactly what she does. She edges you over and over again, and each time you beg her to deny you and you thank her for her cruelty, she gets a little bit closer to having one of the best orgasms of her life.

“You’re so good for me, baby.” Wanda praises with a sigh, her hand working tirelessly between her own legs, her clit twitching with how close she is. “Do you think you can take one more edge for Mommy? Hm?” She asks sweetly.

She rarely allows herself to indulge in such pleasures, rarely lets this side of her sadistic nature run free, especially because you’re usually such a good girl for her, so this is a rare treat, something she wants to savour, something she wants to remember.

“Yes, Mommy, I can do it.” You nod frantically, wanting her to keep going. You never want her to stop. At this point, even though she’s edging you, any stimulation feels better than being left untouched.

“Good girl.” Wanda praises, before starting to slowly lick over your clit.

“Thank you, Mommy!” You sigh. You’re on a wave of pleasure of your own, a twisted pleasure that never ends, a tormenting kind of pleasure that demands more and more, without it ever being enough. “Thank you for being so good to me.” You moan, pulling against the restraints. It’s gloriously good. “Thank you.” You gasp, the closer you get and you can feel her right there on the edge with you, her hand helping her through those final moments. “Thank you for edging me. Thank you for teaching me how to be good, Mommy!” You moan the words in a trans-like state. You’re so close that you think she’ll actually let you come this time.

In the last possible moment Wanda pulls away from your pussy, leaving you edged and in despair as she starts to climax. The orgasm is just glorious, her moans of pleasure mixing with yours, creating a symphony of bliss and despair. Knowing how badly you need to come right now makes her come even harder, her body trembling and her thighs shaking as she continues to circle her clit, until she’s entirely spent and she pulls her hand away with a happy sigh.

When you see that she’s spent, you finally relax, thinking that your punishment is over, that she’ll take pity on you and finally allow you to come, the way you’ve been craving, but she makes no move to alleviate the uncomfortable feelings between your legs.

Climbing up your body, she doesn’t let you say a thing, opting for pushing her slick covered fingers in your mouth and making you suck them clean. She hopes they’ll keep you busy enough, but she isn’t surprised, when you start to beg her just as soon as you can, promising to be good for her and to never misbehave again.

“Hush, sweetie. Just enjoy the taste of Mommy on your tongue.” She shushes you, leaving tender kisses on your face.

“But Mommy, I need it.” You pout, looking up at her with your big, desperate eyes.

“You should have thought of that, before you decided to misbehave today, baby.” Wanda tries to remind you.

“Please, Mommy, just one. Please?” You try again., straining against the bonds that still hold you.

“Mommy already said no, sweetheart.” She explains calmly, though her eyes give away her frustration. She is close to losing her patience. “You were doing so well for me. Don’t stop now.”

“But, Mommy, please! I was good.” You try to bargain again, but from the way her jaw sets and her head tilts, you can see that you have made a very big mistake.

“Yes, and you don’t want to ruin all that, do you? So stop being a brat and listen to Mommy.” She gives you one last warning.

“I’m not a brat! I just want to come. Please?” You say with a pout, getting on Wanda’s last nerve.

“You really wanna cum that badly, huh?” She asks, while gripping your face and spitting the words through gritted teeth, her voice getting lower, until it becomes a dangerous growl.

She doesn’t wait for a response, doesn’t even spare you a second glance, which tells you that whatever she’ll do next, it’s unlikely you’ll enjoy it. Her mind already made up and she travels down your body again on a mission, ignoring your little pleas for her attention and mercy. She doesn’t pretend that she’s going to be soft, her hands starting to work on building an orgasm within you just as soon as she touches you. Her fingers are rough when she enters you and her thumb on your clit puts more pressure than she needs, but you don’t mind. You just want to come.

The orgasm builds within you in just a few short minutes, in fact, you think it’s less and you wait for the moment it hits you with bated breath. You even think she might edge you again, just to spite you, but she doesn’t. Her fingers work with purpose and they push you over the edge with experienced ease. Wanda watches the way your back arches, the way your walls squeeze her in, the way your mouth falls open, so you can scream with pleasure, she can feel your clit twitching with how good it feels and she doesn’t hesitate for a moment to take it away.

It's worse than an edge. This time she ruins it. And she watches with gleeful satisfaction how you writhe in agony at the displeasure of having your orgasm ruined.

“No, no, no, no, no!” You say in panicked frenzy, but there’s nothing you can do. Tied up and helpless, your hands twist in her bonds, desperate for you to be free so you can do something to make it better.

“What? Didn’t you want to come?” Wanda smirks at you, raising her hand and spanking your pussy. It’s overstimulated and sensitive, making her slap hurt even more and you yelp, uselessly flailing on the bed.

Tears start to stream down your face soon after. Tears of frustration and desperation, tears that came from being denied what you wanted. You hated being denied. You hated it so much when you couldn’t get what you want. In moments like this you could be a real brat, but Wanda was going to deal with that once and for all.

“Did you like your orgasm, baby?” She asks gleefully. “Was it worth making Mommy angry?” You can only shake your head, still feeling the aftershocks of unfulfilled pleasure coursing through you. “Well, baby, you got yourself in this situation and now you’ll get exactly what you asked for.” She tells you with an air of finality.

Before you can ask what she means, she puts her hands on your pussy again, fingers running through your folds and teasing your clit. It feels too much, your body still recovering and the pleasure she brings with her touch isn’t enough to help the overstimulation, but she doesn’t care. What’s worse is that your body craves it and your tears run dry, immediately replaced by yearning. The ruin somehow amplified your need and now, despite the overstimulation, you stayed still, allowing her each touch, chasing another high.

Wanda’s cruelty doesn’t stop, now that you’ve truly pushed her buttons and she’s determined to see this through the end, no matter how many orgasms she has to ruin to do it. It only turns her on, the more you start to realize that there’s no escape and she decides to enjoy herself fully, her hand returning between her legs, so she can coax another orgasm out of her own pussy as well.

She builds you up quickly, but this time you’ve had time to think, so when you reach your edge, you beg.

“Mommy, may I please come? Please?” You ask sweetly, hoping to win her over.

“Of course, baby. Go ahead and come for me.” She encourages with a gentle smile and you feel yourself let go immediately.

Wanda watches with careful eyes as you start to orgasm, your clit throbbing and she doesn’t hesitate to pull away again, her smile turning into a cruel grin as she watches you whine and thrash on the bed.

The second ruin is even more unsatisfying than the first, all the pleasure fading away and only leaving a bitter taste, which is a mixture of craving for release, disappointment and frustration. It makes you let out a long cry, your eyes fixing her and pleading wordlessly for her to take pity on you.

“Oh, did you think I was really going to let you have a full orgasm?” She asks through a laugh devoid of amusement. “No, you’ll only be having ruins.” She announces, answering her own question before you had a chance to speak. “I want to see how many you can have.”

“Please, Mommy, I’ll be good.” You tried to plead.

“You had your chance to be good for me, darling. Now you’ll just have to face the consequences.” She explains, patient and even a little excited. “You know what consequences are, don’t you?” She asks in a mockingly sweet voice. “Perhaps after tonight, my lovely girl will think twice, before acting up.” She muses with a deep sigh.

The way your eyes widened in fear and dejection shouldn’t have turned Wanda on as much as they did. She should have felt terrible for doing all these cruel, sadistic things to you, but instead, she felt excited. Your adorable little pussy was practically dripping on the sheets, wet and aching and ready to be filled to the brim, ready for every touch she was willing to offer… Ready to be ruined.

How poetic, she mused to herself, pondering on the beauty of the double meaning behind her thought. She wondered if perhaps you would find it as amusing as she did? Then again… Perhaps not. But she was enjoying herself immensely and she didn’t hesitate for a moment to slip her slender fingers inside your hungry hole, filling you up, until you took all of her.

She fucked you almost lazily, her adoring eyes devouring the sight of you stretching around her, of the droplets of your arousal smeared across your pussy and her hands, of the way your muscles twitched and spasmed, your body struggling to stay still. All beautiful. All for her.

Wanda could see that you were getting lost in your pleasure, in your own little world, which, at this moment, seemed to revolve entirely around her. You always looked so pretty when your brain got all fuzzy and all you could do was cling to her, just as you did now. She could see you slipping into subspace, defiance giving way to submission, the internal battle within you giving way to acceptance.

Her mouth joins her fingers this time, her tongue gliding over your clit deliciously, making it even more painful, when she takes the next orgasm away from you, ruining it. Your whole pussy spasms uselessly with no stimulation once more, empty and untouched, making you whine. You’ve rarely had ruins before, and always accidental, but this was the first time with Wanda and certainly the first time you’ve had so many in a row. It’s the worst punishment you’ve ever faced.

She almost cums at the sight of you, all desperate and ruined and entirely at her mercy. She certainly hoped for it to be enough, wanting to fall apart while you were writing through another ruined orgasm. It would have been the perfect taunt, but she needs a little more.

“Mommy.” You say, the words spilling out of your mouth without much thought. You don’t even know what you want to say.

“Shhh, it’s ok, love. Mommy’s here.” She reassures you, her free hand running up and down your thighs to soothe you. “I’ll take care of you.” She whispers softly, her chest filling with pride and love at how quickly you nod your head. “Isn’t it much better when Mommy thinks for you, my love? Isn’t it easier, when you let Mommy make all those hard decisions and you just do as you’re told?” She spoke softly, her features reflecting her demeanour.

“Yes, Mommy knows best.” You nod, eyes unfocussed.

“That’s right. Mommy knows best.” Wanda confirms proudly. “You’re not going to forget that next time, are you?” She asks gently.

“No, Mommy, I won’t forget. I promise to be so good.” You look up at her, nodding, eyes so soft it melts Wanda’s heart.

“Good, sweetheart.” Wanda smiles, before she lowers her head again.

She’s careful when she takes your clit into her mouth, careful to get you used to the stimulation in this state, before she speeds up. She knows you’re sensitive and almost at your limit and she doesn’t want to hurt you, so she builds your next orgasm slowly, her hands stroking the skin of your thighs in a gentle manner, helping your body relax further, all the while she’s touching herself.

When you reach the edge, Wanda can hear the internal battle in your head, thoughts clashing together. You want to beg her to let you come fully this time, you want to plead with her, but you know you shouldn’t. You know you don’t deserve it. You know you pushed her to do this to you, your little transgressions flashing behind your closed lids, before you come to the conclusion that you’ve earned your punishment.

But it’s when you call out her name, her chosen title spilling from your lips in warning of your impending orgasm, that she knows she should take mercy on you.

Wanda holds your hips more firmly, her tongue swirling over your clit again and again in perfect circles and she feels the moment your start to orgasm. Your back arches and you fully expect her to pull away, but she doesn’t this time, holding you down while she helps you ride out your pleasure.

The moment you realize that she won’t stop, you let go fully, your first real orgasm crashing over you in full force and you try to hold on to it for as long as you can, relief flooding your senses and making you sigh and moan in pure bliss.

Wanda falls apart right after you, her moans of pleasure revibrating against you and making your orgasm that much sweeter.

When it’s over you feel overstimulated and spent, but thankfully Wanda pulls away, crawling over your body and making your restraints disappear with a single wave of her hand, so she can cuddle you. Her body brings warmth and comfort and you wrap yourself around her with the last of your strength, nuzzling your face in her neck and breathing her in.

“I’m sorry for being such a brat today.” You say after some time has passed and you’ve had time to gather your thoughts.

“I forgive you, sweetheart.” Wanda murmurs, kissing your forehead and pulling you even closer to herself. “You’re a good girl.” She reassures you, wanting you know that you're safe with her.

After a few more minutes pass and she starts to feel you drift off, she tries to rouse you.

“Let me clean you up first, darling.” She offers as she removes some hair from your neck and forehead.

“Tomorrow, please?” You whine, pulling her into an even tighter embrace.

“All right, sweetheart. Tomorrow. Sleep well now.” She concedes, not having the heart to make you get up, especially with how cutely you’d cuddled into her.

“I love you, Wanda.” You say with the last bit of your strength.

“I love you too, my precious girl. More than you know.” Wanda smiles softly, feeling you start to drift off and allowing herself to do the same.

_____________________________________________

I hope you guys enjoyed this fic! I certainly loved writing it.

#writing #lesbian #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff smut #top!wanda #bottom!reader #scarlet witch

703 notes · View notes

astralnymphh · 5 months

Text

ROBINS EGG BLUE

⤹ . moments with domestic!ellie x pregnant!reader

WC; 1.07k

⤹ . content; fluff, lovey–dovey, may cause baby fever or heartwarmed tears to swell, reader discretion is advised ౨ৎ

pregnancy is infuriating as not being able to comb your hair thoroughly. there is always a fat fucking knot to stem the fluid moment thereof– just as there lies a fat, fleshy boulder fastened to your stomach for a gruelingly long nine months. the bulge of your belly button has witnessed most of three seasons, and you weren't buoyantly idling around for the fourth to appear. this baby– this little devil, needs to get the hell out of dodge.

from the chagrin of a pair of jeans failing to button at the hips, straining the seams as you pull that fly parallel to your mother yanking the poor hairs from your scalp with a paddle brush– to the fleeting aggro nearby popping a blood vessel you feel when arguing with your wife, ellie, about some nonsensical, fruitless or futile dispute about what wallpaper pattern best suits the small dimensions of the nursey– pink and pearl striped with roses or robins egg blue and beige striped with roses, ellie continuously states "they're basically the same baby, i don't see what all the fuss is about." or whether ellie should throw in a batch of dino nuggets or regular nuggets cause the taste totally isn't the same, the shape definitely impacts how salty it is to your tongue, illogical banters.

but ellie will still be your loving, selfless, fond, and doting wife. your number one. apple of your eye. stupid auburn–haired heartthrob. you name it. through thick and thin of your expanding belly, she will always be the first palm to greet your baby in the morning, plastering her blanket–hot hand just beneath your navel and pressing her sweat damp fingerprints dimpling into your stomach, bending her index lightly into the petunia purple stretchmarks that vertically dip into your hips, waiting for minutes in the virgin sun morning for your baby to kick. literally, she has abandoned her old forenoon routine just to feel that first thump on her hand. and when it finally does happen, a little pounce vibrating beneath her palm lines– her fingers twitch lightly and a smile immediately crafts upon her rose lips, purring excitedly upon the fringe of your ear, words that only your snoozing brain with hark, "huh, see? he knows who his mama is– told ya."

but, ahh, stretchmarks.

she adores those little lightning marks lacing your belly– you on the other hand, thought the contrary, to which that husky fry would remind you, "ts' cause y'gotta baby growing in there, yeah? ours." flowing past the pouty berry lips so adamant on plowing kisses to the span of your scruff, ghosting them dry over the fine threadlike hairs with a pitched promise to never let you– or your belly go.

or, goddess, that one time ellie insisted you sit on the couch while she played her acoustic guitar, denting her fingertips with the strings as she plucks, subtly leaning the bay oak instrument closer to your belly so the baby would pick up those hollowed notes vibrating through the air. the fattest smirk would mushroom those cheeks to hug her nose– grooving those nasal lines to encase the thin curve of a smile, deepening at the corners. you even recall the dorkiest shit ever, how it carried to your ears out of the blue and left you pinching brow lines of amusement, "gonna' play this lil' guy guitar everyday– hey, d'ya think if i do that, he'll come out already knowing how to play?" spoken on a smokey chord, glancing up at you through lashes slightly downturned due to her facing the belly, directly. you told her with a sigh, "ellie, that is not how it works." dumbly smirking back, and she replied, "what? c'mon, maybe if i play electric, he'll be born a rockstar!" squeezing her voice with silly enthusiasm. a roll of your head cracks your neck, dangling back to barb, "you are ten times the idiot than you were yesterday." cause, well, she's constantly spewing the dopiest ideas. next thing you knew, she was rasping, "m'your fuckin' idiot." that cheesy motherfucker, slinking her guitar off the round of her thigh and stowing it at the sofa's footing, lurking forward on all fours to tackle your belly with bespattering kisses, moist and fiendish as ever.

infuriating was the task of putting socks on. fucking socks. the effortless effort that would usually clock you under ten seconds, moreso felt like ten eons. "ughh!" you would grunt from the depths of your compact lungs, extending two zombie arms over the blockage of your portly belly, perking the ears of ellie who was just in the abutting room, walls thin enough to bombard with sound. she whips around the door trim, leaning her lank weight away from it and cocking her head, distinguishing the predicament you had landed two feet in. a dry chuckle sounds from yonder the room, trailed by her honeyed resound, "need sum' help babe?" which, to her, falls to strike as a question– au contraire, soft, padded footsteps of feet who already had socks on, lucky them, carries ellie over and at your side, crouching with her knees splayed apart like bird's wings, raising hands to politely creep fingers under yours, prying the cottony ball from your grasp and craning it to her chest, sidling in her squat so that she would be an eyeshot vis–à–vis to you, at your beckon practically.

you remained silent, doused in the soft moment before you, yet a little embarrassed you couldn't do it yourself. a raspy, "here's one.." croaks from her throat prior to a hand cupping the ribbed underside of your ankle, tamping it gently into her chest so she could unfurl the sock and roll it up your foot, hedging your toes first with the linty fabric and laying it up the heel, letting the band snap in place– and her fingertips lingered at the ankle, caressing the nub for only a twinkle in time. "and the second one.." she scoops up the other foot, repeating the same tedious tenderness she gave to your other, gliding her hand from your ankle to your knee as she stood up, plating a pressure to the top of your thigh as she leans in, lips first, uttering, "there you go," smacking a puckered kiss to your stagnant lips, whispering upon them, "m'comin' to the bathroom with you. wanna hold him for a bit."

not even wild wolves could tear ellie from your baby, her baby.

625 notes · View notes

clockwayswrites · 7 months

Text

Like Betta Fish Do Part 25

WC: 3,537 Masterpost CW: Canon typical violence

“I can’t believe I’m in a custom suit,” Danny said as he admired himself in the mirror.

“It is really weird the first few times,” Jason agreed as he did up his own cufflinks.

Danny twisted so that the very faint blue on blue pattern sewn into the suit caught the light. It gave the impression of rolling waves. “So how many fish things did you manage to fit in?”

He watched the reflection to catch Jason’s lips tick up into a pleased smile.

“Well there’s the fabric itself, deep ocean blue.”

“And patterned like waves,” Danny finished. “I caught that.”

“Your shirt and tie are sea foam white.”

“Okay, that one might be a stretch,” Danny said, but he touched the fabric gently.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m counting it. The pocket square, very nontraditional, is a Japanese indigo linen in a pattern that is a historic representation of waves. The buttons are abalone, the cufflinks red coral, and the tie pin is mother of pearl.”

“Six, if I give you sea foam white.”

“You better, I worked hard on this. And it’s actually seven, one last thing,” Jason said. He picked up a blue velvet jewelry box off his side table and held it out.

Danny took it curiously. It was bigger than a ring box, but smaller than a necklace case. He brushed his thumb over the soft covering before he snapped the lid open. His breath caught.

Inside was a set of earrings. Simple silver studs for for his cartilage piercings, a pearl earring for his left ear, and then the show stopper: a crystal studded and delicate woven silver betta fish on a chain for his right ear. Its black pearl eyes were bright. They almost made it seem alive.

“Jason…”

“I tried to stay subtle with the rest, but this I couldn’t resist,” he said. “You’re my fish, and everyone at the gala should know that.”

Danny carefully closed the box before he flung his arms around Jason’s neck and pulled the other down for a kiss.

“Careful,” Jason murmured when the kiss broke, “if we show up late and mussed Tim will frown at us the whole night.”

“That would be a shame,” Danny whispered back before kissing Jason again.

“I can’t believe I’m being the voice of reason,” Jason said, “but you have to let me get dressed.”

“Fine,” Danny said, even if it made him want to pout. “Maybe… I can take it off after the gala then?”

The pink that Jason blushed was more than worth being bold and Danny took a moment to admire it before he turned to put in the earrings.

Behind him, Jason knotted a white (or sea foam, Danny supposed) tie and shrugged on a matching jacket. The suit looked bright, almost glowing, against the rich blue dress shirt that complimented Danny’s own suit. He couldn’t be sure what it was from this distance, but Danny thought he saw the glint of white on white embroidery on the cuffs and lapels of the suit. It was the silver fish bone tie pin that made him laugh.

“People are going to have questions.”

“Let them,” Jason said with a cheshire smile.

“I’m starting to get what going to a gala with you will be like,” Danny said.

“Oh, this is tame for me,” Jason said. “I’m behaving.”

“I know, it’s part of your charm.”

“If only the press thought that,” Jason said, grabbing his phone as it beeped. “That’s our car.”

“I wish we could just take your bike,” Danny said, watching Jason put his phone back down, “and our phones.”

“Suit lines. I’ve got a connection to the family,” Jason assured Danny.

“Still. But I guess those suit lines do really great things for your ass and it would be a shame to ruin that,” Danny agreed with a put upon sigh.

“You’re incorrigible tonight,”Jason said (not that he seemed to mind if his smirk was any hint).

“Maybe it’s just that new years mood,” Danny said with a little shrug, lacing their fingers together as they left. “This year turned out pretty great, and I bet next year is going to be even better.”

“Yeah? Any reason for that?”

“Well, I happened to move to a city that’s pretty weird but also pretty awesome,” Danny said.

“Good reason,” Jason agreed. “What else?”

“I’m finally in the degree for what I want to do, and I’m kicking ass at it.”

“Of course you are, you’re brilliant,” Jason said, holding the door open to the town car after he subtly checked the plates. “Nothing else?”

“Well,” Danny drew the word out as he slid into the car. “There’s this guy I met, maybe you know him? Tall, dark, and handsome?”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t sound real,” Jason teased and leaned into Danny’s space.

Danny leaned up and pressed Jason into a light kiss. “He is pretty magical.”

“The red carpet, less than magical,” Danny said once they were through the sea of reporters and photographers. “I’m going to be seeing camera flashes for weeks.”

“Only a few hours at most,” Jason said.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, your whole being is just one blinding white blur,” Danny said, motioning at Jason, who laughed and caught Danny’s hand.

Jason pressed a quick kiss to the fingertips. The cameras went off in another round of flashes, apparently not having enough of the lost Wayne and his boyfriend. “Come on, let’s head further in away from this circus.”

“Is your family here yet?” Danny asked as they headed into the gala proper. Jason was skilled at keeping them moving without getting caught up by any one group, even as he greeted some of them.

“Bruce, Damian, and Duke arrived pretty on time so Bruce could greet people. Tim is around here somewhere too, networking I’m sure unless Bernard has distracted him. He’ll have arrived with Cass and Steph, who you haven’t met. Steph isn’t family, but she’s family, you know?”

“I think so?” Danny at least assume that meant she was in the Bat life.

“And Dick should be around here or will soon, likely with Barbie.”

“Barbie?” Danny took one of the drink glasses that Jason had snagged. The tart tang of cranberry bloomed across his tongue followed by the burn of alcohol and lingering taste of sugar. It was good.

“Yeah, but don’t call her that. Her name is Barbara, but she goes by Babs.”

“But you can get away with Barbie?”

“He was a very cute kid,” a voice behind them said. “Somehow he convinced me to let him.”

Danny spun and then had to look down to meet the gaze of the red headed woman in a wheelchair. He couldn’t help but feel a pang for Jazz, but it was softened by the fact that he’d get to see her soon.

“Bull,” Danny said with a smile, offering his hand. “I refuse to believe that Jason was ever not a little shit.”

“Oh, no, he was still a little shit,” Babs said, returning the handshake firmly. “But he was a cute little shit.”

Danny sighed dramatically and looked over at Jason. “Where did you go so wrong?”

“Hey, I believe it was you who were extolling the virtues of my ass in this suit not that long ago,” Jason said with just the hint of a pout.

“I think most of the press will be doing that too, so I’m not sure how much weight that has,” Babs said, painted lips ticked up in clear amusement.

Jason just sighed while Danny laughed.

“I like you, Babs. Is Babs okay for me to call you?”

“Of course, you’re Jason’s man, so you can call me Babs. And I really do prefer it to Barbara. The name is just a little old fashion, you know?”

“And you’re a modern kind of woman?” Danny asked with a smile.

“In so many ways,” Babs said. “But I better go make the rounds, or at least find where Dick is. He got distracted.”

“Isn't he always?” Jason said and bid Babs farewell.

“Are they together? Dick and Babs?” Danny ask as he watched her wheel away.

“Not anymore, but they were,” Jason explained. “They’re still really close. And Babs has been close to the family for a lot of years, so she’s special to all of us, you know? She’s a real inspiration to Cass and Steph.”

Oh, that sort of friend. “Wait, was she?”

“Yeah. So you know.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Danny said. The wheelchair meant something a little differently now. He took a breath and looked around the gala, which was already swarming with beautiful, laughing people. He felt out of place without Babs’ friendly face distracting him.

“Come on, I bet we can find some family to talk too,” Jason said, taking Danny’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “There are a few people who I’ll need to hit up tonight for the Foundation stuff, you know, try to get some donations from them or build up the start of that, but you don’t have to hang with me during any of that. There's plenty of siblings around for you to chat with and use as a distraction. Hell, could always introduce you to Lucius or some of the other inventors we have and you all could talk nerd shop.”

“Nerd shop,” Danny repeated with a sigh. “You say Lucius who I’m going to assume is the Lucius Fox and call it nerd shop like that man is not out there breaking barriers and changing the world with his inventions? And that’s just the stuff that’s been announced to the public! Who knows what else he’s been doing behind closed doors! It must be mind blowing.”

“Well, thank you, but I have a lot of very smart people working for me, so it’s hardly just my work that’s out there making waves,” a silky voice said from behind them.

Danny spun and couldn’t help the little squeak he gave.

Jason chuckled and reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Lucius, how are you doing? Did you manage to drag any of your family to tonight’s event?”

“Just my lovely wife. The rest found excuses, you know how it is.”

“I do. Sadly I’m in a position of note now,” Jason said, the words practically had air quotes around them, “so I’m afraid that my days of excuses are gone.”

“Oh, I’m sure that you can still find a few when you truly need them. You’ve always been mighty good at that.”

Jason just shrugged with an unrepentant grin. “Well, you know. But anyway, Lucius, this is my boyfriend Danny. Danny, this, as I guess you know from that sound you made, is Lucius Fox.”

“Of course I know. Really, sir, the work you and your teams have done… amazing.”

“Just Lucius, Danny,” the man said, reaching out to shake Danny’s hand. “If you’re dating Jason I expect that we’ll run into each other from time to time and I am too old for formalities like that.”

“Alright, just Lucius then. I can’t wait to tell my friend Tucker I met you.”

“Another one for, what was that you said Jason, ‘nerd shop talk’ like you are?”

“Totally. He’s in computer sciences, but he’s not bad at engineering some hardware when he needs to. Mostly to be able to get his software to run on, but I always make fun of his soldering.”

“So you must solder a lot then?”

“Yes s— er Lucius. Aerospace engineering, but I grew up always tinkering and things. I still do it some, but it’s harder here when I don’t have the space, you know? First dibs on tables and tools go to the other majors, which I get, since they need them more than us.”

“Still, hard not to be able to get your hands dirty when you want to. Are you going to be in Gotham for the summer? Not sure where you call home.”

“Well, at the moment, home is Gotham. I want to visit some friends and my sisters, but I’ll be here, yeah. I might take a summer course and get an advanced math knocked out or something.”

“A good plan. You should reach back out to me around early May then. I bet we can find a corner of one of the labs for you to at least use on the weekends when no one is around doing work much.”

“Really?” Danny said, hands twitching at just the idea of getting into a space where he could do some inventing. He had so many new ideas from his time at Gotham U on to improve some of his parent’s inventions or even make new things.

“Really. There will be the usual red tape and all, background checks and paper work and hours you’re allowed in, but those things can be worked out. Can’t keep a curious mind and skilled hands stagnant, now can we?”

“I know I can’t,” Danny said with a little laugh. “Thank you Lucius, really, I’ll definitely take advantage of that again. And start planning! I mean I have plans, of course I do, but a lot is just rough sketches, you know? I need to do some proper diagrams for a few things.”

He didn’t want to waste a moment once he had access to tools again— especially not the tools that were available to him at a place like Wayne Enterprises. Danny idly wondered if it would be out by summer that he knew about the Bats. Lucius had to be involved in that work and it would be so cool to take a look under the proverbial and the literal hood of those gadgets. Did they store the Batplane here?

Lucius chuckled and smiled. “Yes, I think you’ll fit right into that corner. You two boys behave now.”

“Never,” Jason said with a laugh and shook Lucius’ hand one more time as they parted ways.

The night turned into a slew of little meetings like that— people coming up to talk to Jason. Some of the conversations were enjoyable like with Babs and Lucius (Steph was overwhelming, but cool), some were with the many family members Jason had, and some were with the tpyical the socialite crowd. Those people seemed either to be there to get their claws in Jason or to observe Danny like he was some curiosity. Danny really could do without that type. Luckily, Jason seemed to know this, and Danny was passed off to Dick a few hours in and then freed to the food table after some teasing.

Really, even with the gawkers, the night was pretty fun.

“Hey Barbie, have you seen Danny recently?” Jason asked as he crossed her path at the party.

“No, but I’ve been talking tech. Have you tried over by the food?”

“That’s where I just came from,” Jason said with a little frown. These things were really too busy, one of the many reasons that he hated them. “I guess I’ll go try another sibling. Dick hadn’t seen him in a bit either, he got distracted by one of the people from the foundation that works with kids.”

“I keep waiting for him to join you there, you know. You could try Tim if he hasn’t been co-opted by Bernard yet,” she suggested. “How long has he been schmoozing?”

“Too long, Tim is worthless to me I’m sure. Cass would be—”

Jason dropped instinctively to cover Babs before he even registered the sound of shattering glass.

“Jason—”

The all to familiar muzzle of a gun pressed into the base of Jason’s head. “Turn around slowly. Try anything and I’ll shoot through you to get your lovely friend.”

Jason locked eyes with Babs, a thousand messages passed in that look as he slowly raised his hands and turned around.

It was one of the waiters.

Okay, it was a number of the waiters, Jason mentally corrected as he took in the room. Each of them with a gun pointed at some portion of the party. Jason spotted Bruce and Damian where they were being rounded up and Steph over on the edges of the room, but he couldn’t find Tim, Dick, or Cass on the quick glance at the space.

He snapped his focus back to the gunman at a popping sound. The man raised his left hand to his face and smeared the popped paint pellet across his face, coating half of it in a splotchy blue.

Guess they knew what Two Face was up to now. Speaking of the man of the hour, Two Face walked through the shadowed window, black and white suit spotless and fit for the event, and flanked by henchmen. He was clapping. Head tilted so that the bright lights caught his good side.

“Lovely event Bruice! Really, a shinning light in Gotham to ring in the new year. Don’t mind us, please, we’re just here to pick up the usual, jewels, watches, money clips, wire transfers. I’m afraid we need the extra funding…” He twitched, twisting so that the scarred side of his face was tilted forward. “Because the damn Bat made sure we lost it all! I’m hoping he shows tonight. I’d like to make sure he doesn’t make it to the new year!”

Dent cleared his throat; his right hand smoothed back his hair, tipping his head back the other way. “Sorry about that. Just some… linger resentment. You all know how it is. But let’s not get too serious yet! Brucie! And his adorable little spawn! Some of our guests of honor too! Behave if you don’t want to be shot in the head.”

Jason watched helplessly as Bruce, Damian, and several other social elite like the mayor were lashed together with rope. Two Face walked over after they were trussed and slapped a bomb to Bruce’s chest. While the the henchman secured it, Two Face turned to the crowd.

“Where is he? Our darling lost prince of Gotham?”

The gunman stuck the cold metal back to the base of Jason’s neck and pushed him forward.

The bomb started ticking down.

“There you are! When I heard you returned to us, my heart swelled, truly,” Dent said, looking up with his good eye as if praying to heaven. “And now! Now I hear you’ve found love!”

Dent bent over, cackling. The enlarged, yellow eye looked up at Jason from under the white bangs. “So let’s play a game while we count down to midnight.”

Two Face’s goons dramatically rolled out a podium. Two bright red buttons were mounted to it, right below a large television.

Danny was on the screen.

He was tied to a chair in some building’s basement. A bruise was already blooming to life around his right eye, deep blue as his suit. He had clearly caught a fist to the lip too. The fish earring was bright silver, catching light reflected from the pool of water that the chair was sat in.

“As you see, we’re giving your boyfriend some hospitality,” Dent said, smooth side of his face to Jason as he walked around the podium like some perverse Vanna White. “So you have a simple choice: decided what type of love is more important to you. Do you press the left button and save your boyfriend, letting your family and these other lovely people die to the bomb…”

He rounded the screen, scarred open eye starting at Jason accusingly. “…or do you press the button on the right and save the people in this room, but fry your boyfriend to death with electricity?”

Two Face snapped his fingers.

Danny’s head jerked up, unfocused eyes staring just to the right of the screen.

“Hey, dead boy,” Danny rasped. Just talking made the split on his lip crack and bleed again, adding another line of blood to his chin. On the screen the red was bright, bright, bright—

Jason clenched his hands. He was going to kill Two Face. “Hey, fish.”

“You know, the irony of this whole thing is that it does make me realize I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you.”

“Yeah? That's convenient. I've been in love with you for weeks.”

Dent cackled and motioned grandly at the trussed up people. The bright, bright red of the bombs’ timer counted down another tick. “Looks like you're all out of luck! True love always wins.”

He twisted to Jason with the scarred side of his face and growled, “Forty-five seconds left.”

“You know what you have to do, don't you?” Danny asked.

He was smiling at Jason, a soft calm thing. But Jason didn't know if he could trust it. He didn’t know Danny's limits. He didn’t know if this would kill him the rest of the way.

But he did know what Danny would never forgive him for. He knew he didn't really have a choice. “I do. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.”

Jason lunged and hit the right button. On the screen, the wires sparked bright with electricity, lighting up the pool of water. And Danny screamed.

And screamed.

The camera cut out.

---

AN: We're finally here! To the scene I wrote last year! Aaaaaah~

I would say I'm sorry, but this time I truly am not. (Please don't stab me.) ._.

It will be fiiiiiiiine... right?

#dp x dc #dead on main #like betta fish do

633 notes · View notes

mikkomacko · 2 days

Text

Him and I: Meet the Hischiers

Pairing: Mob Boss! Nico x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, Nico's crappy parents, and mean girls

A/n: Ok I'm so sorry for how long this is, oh my god. I couldn't not add sweet moments between Nico and reader though, but I promise there's only one more chapter of them in Switzerland before they return to Jersey. Anyway, enjoy and please leave comments and thoughts and requests because I love writing mob boss Nico!

~~~~

Nico’s childhood home is humongous. The SUV rolls up the cobblestone driveway to what you’d consider a mansion, honestly. At least three stories, with fields of snow covered grass and hedges, a looping driveway like at a hotel, and a bright red door.

Everything about it screams elegance.

And yet you can picture a tiny Nico toddling after his older siblings in the grass out front, chasing a soccer ball that was half the size of him.

The mental image eases your nerves enough that you’re able to teasingly scoff and smack at Nico’s arm.

“You didn’t tell me your house is the size of New Jersey!”

Nico rolls his eyes at your drama, taking your hand in his and shrugging. “Yes it’s beautiful,” he agrees “but there’s a reason we’re not staying here. Just remember that, ok?”

Dutifully you nod, but that doesn’t stop you from leaning forward to gape at Timo. Your friend just laughs, directing the car into the spot directly in front of the door.

“The Hischier’s are the closest thing to a royal family here,” he tells you. “And Nico is the delinquent prince that ran away from the crown.”

“Stop lying to her Timo.” Nico interjects, his tone hard and commanding. You immediately sink back into your seat, recognizing that for some reason that was a touchy subject.

You’ll ask him about it later when it’s just the two of you.

This time when the car stops, it’s different men in wool coats that pull open Nico’s car door. They greet him in Swiss German, nodding as he slides out and you follow, taking his outstretched hand and stepping onto the stone path.

They look taken aback by your presence, both sharing a look you can’t quite read before greeting you with a simple “miss.”

You smile, wrapping your hand around Nico’s bicep and pressing into his side. Timo falls into step with you, walking alongside as you head for the front door.

Walking into Nico’s childhood home is more like walking into a recently sterilizes hospital room than a house that three children grew up in. Everything is pristine, polished, and pearl white (or beige).

Not a single item in the main room indicates that a family lives here at all. Even the portrait of a man with a thick mustache and sharp nose hanging over the staircase isn’t friendly.

“Wow,” you breathe out, looking over at Timo. He must read the look in your eyes because he nods just once, clearing his throat when Nico shoots him a look over the top of your head.

“Come on baby,” Nico tells you, guiding you further into the house. “They’re probably in the sitting room.”

The sitting room is like a living room, only colder and not exactly lived in. His family is scattered around the large room, perched on white overstuffed furniture. The first to greet you is a light haired woman, and as soon as she smiles you know this is his mother.

“Nico darling!” She exclaims in an accented voice, one that resembles his but with a tone of superiority. Rising from the sofa, she waves the man next to her up. Even if you were seeing him through fogged glass you’d be able to tell he’s Nico’s father.

They have the same nose, same dark eyes that crinkle by the edges. He’s shorter and less broad than Nico, but their posture and gait are the same. Even the way his dark grey hair falls is similar to Nico’s.

They’re carbon copies of each other.

“Son,” the man greets, buttoning up his suit jacket. “The rumors were true then?”

“Rumors?” Nico asks, and his lack of greeting to his parents makes your stomach drop. Throughout the entirety of your relationship you never imagined Nico’s relationship with his family to be like this.

“Word from the airport was that you brought a guest.” His mother supplies, a polite smile being thrown at you. You return it, hanging to Nico’s bicep like a lifeline. Suddenly you feel pathetic, a random American girl pressed at the hip to the heir of a mob family that stretches three countries and two continents. Hiding in the shadow casted by not only Nico but Timo as well.

Maybe it’s a good thing Sieges and the others didn’t come along.

“Timo insisted on tagging along,” your boyfriend jokes and if you weren’t so stunned and stupid you would have laughed. “This,” he continues, prying his arm from your hold to wrap around the small of you back “isn’t a guest, she’s family.”

Steeling your nerves, you take a steady step forward. “Y/n,” you introduce, holding your hand out to his father. “It’s a pleasure to meet you sir.”

He takes your hand, squeezing gently as you meet his gaze. For looking so much like his son, he doesn’t actually resemble him. His eyes are threatening and dark rather than comforting and warm like Nico’s. Even the twitch of his lips feels like it was a muscle spasm.

“Rino,” he tells you. “But sir works better.”

You nod in agreement, now reaching out towards his mother. She’s just as calculated when it comes to introducing herself, her tone haughty and amused as she says “Katja.”

“Wonderful to meet you,” you say, smiling warmly despite the thudding of your heart against your ribcage.

“You as well,” she responds, then shoots her son a look. “I’m afraid we haven’t heard much about you y/n, or anything at all for that matter.”

Ignoring the blow, you settle back into Nico’s side. Timo cuts in, greeting them you think but you can’t really hear him over the voice in your head desperately reminding you that Nico loves you, Nico wants you here.

It’s not until Nico’s nose is pressed to your temple that you snap back into reality. “Breathe y/n,” he whispers, his voice just a tickle in your ear but strong and encouraging. “You’re doing perfect.”

Coming back to yourself, you take his hand in thanks as Katja directs her attention to the few men milling about the room. She speaks to them in Swiss German, an order obviously if them scurrying out of the room is anything to go by.

With her and Rino no longer focused on you for the moment, you helplessly look up at Nico. He’s already watching you, not even a hint of a smile on that handsome face of his. Even so, his gaze is solid and proud, and the subtle tilt of his head tells you enough.

It’s ok.

Your breath shudders, feeling weak under those eyes that know and read you so well. You look away, biting at the inside of your cheek to stop the welling feeling of tears. You have to stop before you let your thoughts run too wild, plagued by images of the sweet man before you living under the scrutinizing gazes of this family.

It’s difficult to even picture how he turned into the Nico you know and love.

The return of the workers distracts you, this time a man and woman following behind them. Another copy of Nico, his brother looks like he could be the elder twin of your boyfriend. The hair, the nose, the jawline, the walk. Must be a Hischier man thing.

And the woman, so obviously his sister, physically resembles Katja but her eyes hold that same twinkle that lights up Nico’s eyes.

“Luca, Nina-“ Katja says warmly. “Your brother is here. With guests.”

Nico sighs, anything he might say remaining unspoken when Nina steps between the two sides.

“Family, Mama.” She corrects, sending you a friendly wink. Like a million bricks have been lifted off your shoulders, you visibly relax at her welcoming.

“Nina,” she tells you “you have no idea how excited I am to meet you.”

She doesn’t hold out a hand, instead stretching out both arms to you. Laughing nervously, you accept her embrace, briefly squeezing her in appreciation and introducing yourself.

“Never thought I’d see Nico with such a beautiful woman,” she teases, an underlying sincerity in her words that warms your cheeks. “He must’ve finally learned how to shower properly.”

Nico mockingly laughs behind you, grumbling in his native tongue to his sister but he’s quick to hug her smaller frame. You almost laugh when he tucks into her shoulder, curling in like he’s supposed to be smaller than her. Like a younger sibling that’s forgotten he’s grown to be the tallest.

Luca greets you, not as warmly as Nina but with more friendliness than their parents. He plants two polite kisses to your cheeks, squeezing your biceps awkwardly before jumping into reuniting with Nico. Nina stands by her mother’s side, nodding at you just once as Katja and Rino tell Nico and Luca something you don’t understand.

Resilience renewed, you turn your head to Timo and he leans down so you can whisper in his ear. “You have to teach me something in German, I’m drowning here.”

He chuckles quietly, leaning into your ear. “I’ll try again but I’m not a miracle worker honey.” You blink at him, jabbing your elbow into him in annoyance. He does it back, jolting you and your gearing up to hit him back when a firm hand is reaching around your back and taking a hold of your elbow.

Easily and swiftly, Nico pulls you into his side. By the way Timo straightens up, you’d imagine he’s been silently scolded by his boss. Smirking, you bat your eyelashes at him and innocently press into Nico’s hold.

“We’ve prepared lunch, if you’re hungry.” Katja offers but she’s already directing everyone to another room. The three of you follow obediently, not having any other option really.

~~~~

Lunch is better than the family reunion that took place in the sitting room. With the distraction of food and a cook and his siblings, Katja and Rino don’t even spare you a second glance or get a chance to grill Nico about anything.

Anytime the Devs or New Jersey comes up, Luca or Nina will steer the conversation away. You’re sure it has something to do with everyone avoiding the topic of Nico’s leave of absence and lack of contact for the past few years, but you can’t be certain because it’s never said.

Nico has a hand on you throughout the whole meal, either lacing his fingers with yours or resting comfortably on your thigh. He makes sure that you eat enough, that your water is ok, that you don’t want more helpings. It’s sweet, the way he always communicates through his actions. Maybe he didn’t prepare you enough for this encounter like he should’ve, but physically he’s been here and done everything to let you know that he has your back.

Besides, after listening to his family carefully navigate around unsavory topics over lunch, you can see why he struggles with words.

Especially when his mother is hell bent on making it uncomfortable. The plates have barely been cleared away when she’s zeroing in on her youngest.

“I suppose it’s time you tell us why you’ve come back,” she says airily. “Or rather why you left?”

Nico’s fingers tighten around yours, eyelids fluttering in annoyance as he suppresses an eye roll. “Mother-“

“Everything was set up Nico,” she cuts in. “The house, the branch, Len-“

“That’s enough!” He cuts off gruffly, silencing Katja. You stroke your thumb over his knuckle, unsure of how to navigate him like this in front of his family. It’s different at home where you have a place, where it’s your job to step in and protect the boys from his angry bouts. But this is different, uncharted. You don’t have a spot in the lives of his family let alone a place to interject. Hell, you don’t even know the context of why Nico left either.

“Watch the tone Nico,” Rino says casually, “that’s your mother.”

Sighing, Nico shakes his head. “I’m here for the week, take it or leave it. And I didn’t come to answer questions you already have the answer for.”

You watch him look around the large table, meeting everyone gaze with a firmness he only gets on jobs and deals. When he receives a simple hum from his mother, he turns to you.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he says quietly, rising from his seat. You follow his lead, pushing your chair back in and sharing a nervous look with Timo.

Nico addresses his parents. “I’m gonna show y/n around the grounds.” Then he’s nudging you towards the hall, large hand on your back as you go.

“Put on a coat Nico!” His mother calls after you and he waves over his head in acknowledgment. You’re silent all the way back to the front door, putty in Nico’s hands as he zips you into your winter coat and slips his beanie over your head.

Returning the favor, the zip his own coat for him, adjusting the collar and hood so his ears and neck stay warm.

Nico doesn’t return to being your Nico until the side door of the house is closing behind you. Immediately he’s attaching himself to you, hunching down to wrap his arms around your waist and tuck his face into your neck. Rising to your toes, you bundle your arms around him as best you can with all the thick winter layers between you.

Closing your eyes, you breathe in the cold air and just hold him for a moment. You don’t let go until he’s pressing a kiss to your jaw, straightening out his posture and looking at you with those moony eyes of his.

“Show me the grounds,” you mock in a posh voice giggling when he rolls his eyes and offers his elbow to you. Taking ahold of him, you tuck your hands into your pockets and let him guide you down the shoveled paths.

The grounds stretch on forever, through untouched wooded land and open plains of snow. Nico shows you a tennis court, a basketball court, the indoor hockey setup him and Luca used religiously as children. You trudge through the snow with him, winter air nipping at your nose and dry lips aching as your awe of the place kept growing and growing. Every ten steps was something new, some fond memory Nico’s dug up of his childhood.

“I almost broke my ankle trying to do cartwheels,” Nico laughs, gaze sweeping over the open area in which Nina apparently tried to teach Nico gymnastics. “She hadn’t even done gymnastics herself, but I wanted her to think I was cool so I did it.”

Giggling, you shake your head at him. “You can’t do a cartwheel?” You ask incredulously. Nico scoffs, shaking his head like it should be obvious. Releasing his arm, you strut to the open space in front of him and throw your arms up.

“Watch and learn Nico baby.” You tease, winking before executing a perfect cartwheel. The snow is cold on your hands, bites at your fingers but you do a couple more anyway just to show off.

Nico exclaims in surprise, staring at you with his jaw dropped and dimples in his cheeks. “Alright, just rub it in my face!” He complains and you laugh, giving him a bow. Leaning down he scoops up some snow, quickly packing it together. You have just enough time to curl into yourself before he’s throwing it at your torso.

Squealing, you dig your numb hands into the snow to throw one back. Dodging and ducking through laughter, you and Nico pelt each other with snow until your hands are so frozen you think they might fall off.

In surrender, you leap at him and throw your arms around his neck. The shock of your bitter cold fingers on his bare skin makes him jump and he goes crashing to the ground, taking you with him.

Luckily he breaks your fall, and the snow breaks his so it’s still giggles when you cup his jaw, sitting up to check him for injuries. He’s got snow in his hair and eyelashes, his cheeks and nose glowing red as he bites at his bottom lip to try and contain his smile.

“You’re so handsome,” you whisper, the words mostly spoken to yourself but in the large, silent estate they carry. Nico’s cheeks redden even more, eyes glimmering with love. Then, thinking of the cold man from whom Nico got his looks, you quickly add “inside and out.”

His face falls with realization, a look of sympathy flashing through his eyes. Not that he should be sympathetic about anything, these people didn’t raise you. “I should’ve warned you,” he says “I just didn’t want to scare you. And I didn’t want you to think I don’t love them because I do, they’re just different.”

The snow has begun soaking into your pants, stinging your skin and you imagine Nico’s butt must be just as cold. Yet he makes no move to get up, just stares up at you from the ground with those all-telling eyes of his.

“You warned me,” you say “maybe not intentionally but you did.” From wasting away the morning with you to the way he always had a protective hand on you today, Nico warned you the best way he knows how. With protective actions.

Brushing his hair off his forehead, you ask “wanna talk about it?” Nico sighs, cheeks puffing up as he does so and the cloud of his breath dances in between you. He agrees though, nodding for you to get up so you climb off his lap and take his hand to help him up.

Nico takes both of your hands in his, squeezing them before drawing the up to his lips. Eyebrows pinched together in concentration, he breathes hot hair in an attempt to warm them up for you. After a moment he squeezes them again, frowning when they’re still too cold for his liking.

Giggling, you pull your hands back and hug his arm. “I’m ok, let’s just go back and we can talk somewhere warm.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, Nico agrees. Oblivious to the figure looming on the balcony that overlooks the grounds, he leads you back towards the house, feet crunching in the snow.

~~~~

Clothes sopping wet and cold, you shuffle into Nico’s old bedroom and immediately begin shedding your winter layers. Unsure of everyone else’s whereabouts in the house, Nico closes the door and locks it before he too strips out of his clothes.

In just his boxers he disappears into the closet and you take the opportunity to look around his room. A large bed sits in the middle of the room, a fluffy blue quilt that matches the accent wall covering it. An old ratty teddy bear sits on the bed, looking out the large window across the room. The view is beautiful, snow covered mountains and white topped trees. There’s a desk in the corner, the top of it empty but the shelves have a few books and childhood awards scattered on them.

You tiptoe over, notice most of the awards have a soccer or hockey player on them. There’s one of a boy snowboarding and one engraved with a book, and though you can’t read them inscription, the year on them tells you that Nico was under 16 when he won all these.

A photo you’ve seen on his phone is hung up next to the desk, Luca and Nina holding a baby Nico on a beach somewhere, all chubby cheeks and blonde hair.

A poster of a Swiss tennis player hangs next to the bed, a few more photos scattered around the room. You don’t get the chance to examine them because Nico strolls back into the room with a ball of clothes in his hands.

“Not sure when these were last washed but it should be fine,” he shrugs, dropping the mess of items to the bed. He digs out a pair of boxers, some dark sweats, and a long sleeve for you. You happily accept the dry clothes, stripping out of your damp underwear and bra.

Nico’s Calvin’s are a little tight when you shimmy them up you hips but not uncomfortable. You pull the sweats on, rolling the waistband so they don’t hang over your feet. It’s not until you’re tugging the shirt over your head that you notice Nico is standing butt naked across from you, boxers in hand as he shamelessly watches you change.

Knowing where this going, you quickly pull the shirt on, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Put that thing away and start talking Hischier.”

He chuckles, beginning to get dressed. You sit on the bed, reaching over for the teddy and pulling it into your lap. “What do you want to know?”

“I know how you ended up in Jersey,” you say, fingers rubbing at the soft fabric of the bears ear. “Inheritance from your grandfather and wanting to get away from here. But I always thought it was because you’re the youngest, ya know? You like to be in charge and you can’t do that with Luca and Nina being in line for everything,”

Nico lets you talk, pulling on his teeshirt and settling into the bed next to you.

“But your parents said everything was lined up. What did they mean?”

Nico sighs, eyes dropping to his lap and he fiddles with the tie on his sweats. You turn to look at him, walking the teddy bear across the mattress and plopping it in his lap. He doesn’t look at you but a dimple sinks into his cheek and he takes the bear from you.

“My parents were trying to branch out, stretch the business like they did sending Nina to France. They had this whole mock up of me using my inheritance to move to Germany and head everything there.

“But they wanted to send someone with me. This girl whose father does business with mine. We had a thing kind of when we’re younger, not dating but like when I wanted to be with someone she was there. So they added a wedding to the plan and invited her to join the family.”

There’s no reason to be jealous of this girl, whoever she is. You know that, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling a little nauseous thinking of his family picking out a wife for him.

“What did you say?” You murmur, slipping your fingers under his shirt and stroking the warm skin of his stomach. Nico picks at a thread on the bear, taking a deep breath.

“Nothing, to them. I took the money and some buddies and left. Told Nina I was starting my own family in Jersey, that I didn’t want to be married or in Germany.

“That’s how I got Timo, Sieges, and Bratter to join me. We’d all been friends for a while and they hated the girl. My parents didn’t know, but she’d been after Luca the whole time she was with me. He was too focused on taking over here in Switzerland though. That’s why she wanted him, she wanted to be the queen or whatever of Switzerland. “

“Why’d she agree to marry you then?”

Nico looks up now, shrugging. You inch closer to him, stomach feeling sick and he must know you don’t particularly like to hear this story because he nudges you into his lap. Straddling his thighs, you relax forward into his chest and let him wrap his arm around you.

“Because one of us was better than neither I guess. I had a feeling she assumed she could marry me and then convince me to push Luca out or something. I don’t know but I didn’t say a word to her either, I just left.”

You nod, the joke Timo made in the car earlier finally adding up. Nico was the prince lined up to be married and grow the business, to make his family stronger. Instead he took his power and his means elsewhere. He built his own kingdom.

“I think you’re so smart Nico,” you mumble, “not many 18 year old boys would be able to do what you did.”

Nico tucks the bear into your chest and you hug it. “I had help,” he says “but it was the best decision I ever made. I got you from it.”

His phone buzzes on the nightstand, interrupting you two. You feel him reach over for it, holding you tighter as he leans over.

“Nina invited us to go out tonight for drinks,” he says. “She wants to have fun without my parents around.”

“Is Timo invited?”

“Yes, Timo is invited.” Nico laughs, stroking your hair.

“Ok. I have to go home for new clothes though.”

Nico hums his agreement, still stroking your hair. You cuddle into him, hugging the teddy bear tighter as you sort through everything he told you. It’s impossible for you to see how some girl had Nico right in front of her, was lined up to spend the rest of her life with him and instead made him feel unwanted.

How could anyone not pick him? How was she not begging on her knees to run away to Jersey with him?

“Nico?”

“Yes baby?”

“I want you,” you whisper. “I always have and I always will. I’d do anything for you.”

You think of everything you’ve given up for Nico, the life you’d left behind for him and it doesn’t even phase you. Because he’s worth it, always worth it.

“Trust me, I know my love,” he assures but you can hear the relief in his tone. Then he’s giggling boyishly, digging his nose into the top of your head. “I knew as soon as met you that there was no getting rid of you.”

Blushing, you close your eyes and enjoy his embrace, enjoying a moment with just him.

~~~~

Luca owns the bar that Nina had invited you too. Technically the business owns it, but it was Luca’s investment plan that acquired it and it’s his staff that runs it.

You find that out as Nico leads you by the hip to the sectioned off tables in the back. Luca and a few other guys mill about the table, some you recognize from seeing around the house today. Nina is there too, her long hair pulled back into a slick pony and she’s sipping from a fruity cocktail with a blonde girl.

“You made it!” Luca greets upon seeing his brother, his demeanor much more welcoming and laidback than earlier. You let go of Nico’s hand so he can hug Luca again, his eyes crinkling as he laughs.

Timo bro-hugs Luca before disappearing back into the common area, most likely heading to the bar. You’re reaching for Nico’s hand again when Luca crouches down to meet your gaze, glossy eyes and smile shining at you.

He looks so much like Nico.

“There she is!” He shouts, charging you with open arms. You laugh in shock when he scoops you up in a hug, drink sloshing against your back as he sways back and forth.

“Hi Luca,” you giggle, awkwardly rubbing your hand up and down his back. “Nice to see you again.”

He drops you to your feet, gripping your elbow when you stumble. Not that it’s needed; Nico’s hand found your lower back as soon as your toes touched the polished floors.

“You know, I never understood why Nico loved Jersey so much,” he shouts over the music and chatter “but I get it now. I like you a lot even if my parents don’t.”

You’re not shocked to hear that but you dramatically gasp anyway. “Your parents don’t like me?!” You cry, holding a hand over your heart. “What’ll we ever do?”

Luca laughs at you, taking a swig of his beer before shaking his head fondly. “Fuck ‘em,” he says casually “Nico’s better off with you anyway.”

Your cheeks heat up at his words, flattered by the praise. You were hesitant about Luca earlier, not knowing if he liked you or not. He was harder to read than Nico and Nina but you assume that’s the oldest sibling in him.

Without another word he’s walking away, stumbling towards the pool tables with some friends. Nico leans in over your shoulder, nose brushing your temple.

“He’s a friendly drunk,” he explains “but he really does like you.”

You turn towards him. “He’s funny,” you say “I like him too.”

Pressing the lightest kiss to your cheekbone, Nico nods towards the bar. “Something with vodka?” He asks and you peek around him at Nina.

“I want what Nina is drinking.”

Amused, he nods and takes you by the hand. He approaches the booth, leaning over towards his sister to mumble something in her ear. You don’t hear what she says back but Nico straightens out, stepping out of the way and nudging you to sit down. Happily, you slide into the seat next to Nina and accept her giddy hug.

Nico sweeps your hair over your shoulder, squeezing your neck briefly before going to get your drink.

“Oh this is Maja,” Nina introduces you to her friend. You reach over the table to shake her hand and introduce yourself.

“I’m with Luca,” Maja tells you, her pretty blue eyes sparkling. “Sorry I missed lunch today, I tend to skip those gatherings as often as I can.”

“I totally understand!” You laugh,” I’ll have to keep that in mind for next time.”

Nina gasps, gripping your arms as she beams at you. “You’re gonna come back?!”

Giggling, you nod. “Well yeah, I know Nico misses you and Luca and it hasn’t been bad. Besides, it’s beautiful here!”

“You have to visit in the summer!” Maja tells you, “we can make fondue and float the river.”

Nina agrees telling you all about how that was Nico’s favorite thing to do when he was younger. Then she’s inviting you to France, telling you all about the beautiful French men and how much you’d love them.

You let her chatter on, laughing at her antics. French men aren’t exactly your forte, especially not when you’re dating a Swiss man but you can remind her about that later.

“Nina,” Nico interrupts, placing your drink in front of you. “are you trying to set my prinzessin up with a Frenchie?”

Sliding in next to you, he wraps his arm around your stomach and draws you back into his chest. His sister gapes at him, so shocked by his words she’s gone speechless and you shyly sip your drink.

“Prinzessin, Nico!” She gasps, holding her heart. Nina tells him something in Swiss German, reaching around you to excitedly shove her brother.

His response is also lost on you but you can tell by Nina’s moony eyes and how he hunches into you that it was something loving and sweet. “Soon, soon.” Nico finally says, taking a drink of his beer and setting it next to yours.

“Hey don’t talk about me when I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

Laughing, Nico presses a kiss to your temple. “Sorry baby,” he says, squeezing your shoulders. You turn to face him, sliding your leg over his lap.

“You didn’t tell me about Maja,” you murmur, fiddling with the straw in your drink. Nico’s eyebrows pinch together, lips pursing in confusion as he looks around the bar.

“Who?”

“Nico oh my god,” you gasp “Luca’s girlfriend-wife-whatever?”

Some clarity washes over his face and he giggles, glancing across the booth to Maja. Lowering his lips to your ear, “I thought her name was Maria,” he whispers and you laugh.

“I don’t know, Luca got with her after I left and he’s not chatty on the phone. For all I know he’s already married her.”

You look over your shoulder at her hand. “No ring,” you tell him “and I don’t think he’d get married without telling you.”

Nico shrugs, taking a swig of his beer before holding it out to you. You slide him your drink, trying the tangy beer he’s been nursing. It’s not bad but beer isn’t your favorite so you quickly hand it back.

“That’s sweet,” Nico says, smacking his lips and returning it to you. “Too sweet, Jesus Christ.” You laugh, snacking an arm around his shoulders and digging your fingers into the strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

“It’s not that bad,” you argue, guiding him closer to you. Smirking, those dark eyes of his dance across your face before settling on your lips. He does the rest of the work for you, capturing your mouth in a sloppy kiss.

“Mmm,” he hums, pulling back and swiping his tongue across his lips. “Better.”

His voice has that gruffness to it, heavy and thick, and not just because his accent is stronger now that he’s home. It makes your neck and ears feel hot, stomach flipping.

“No PDA in my bar Nico!” Luca’s shouting makes you jump, almost knocking Nico’s beer across the table and him and Timo snicker as they sit across from you.

“Bar PDA is his favorite,” Timo laughs, winking at you. “How do you think they ended up together?”

You can’t even argue with him. Nico is notorious for being handsy, especially when he’s out and drinking.

“Really?” Luca hums, slinging an arm around Maja. “It used be like pulling teeth just to get him to look at girl around here.”

And well, that’s news to you. Although you suppose if he planned on leaving Switzerland anyway and he had that girl to fool around with whenever he wanted, what’s the point? You’re well aware that he was never looking for love.

Nico quickly changes the topic, asking Timo about his day with his family tomorrow and you join Nina and Maja as they sift through songs on the online jukebox to play.

The queue stacks up, your drink starts to run out, and Nico leaves with Timo and his brother to go play pool. Nina leaves the phone with Maja, taking you by the hand to the bar where she orders more drinks and drops them on Nico’s tab. Not that it matters, you doubt he pays for drinks here anyway.

“I’m gonna head to the restroom,” you tell her, and she takes your drink back to the closed off section. The bathrooms are in the opposite back corner, a group of girls huddled in front of the door so you line up behind them.

Your phone buzzes in hand, Nico’s contact lighting up the screen and you almost laugh. Of course he noticed you were missing.

I’ve lost my pretty girl

Biting your lip, you text back bathroom break ♥️

The typing dots pop up and you’re anxiously awaiting his response when the conversation around you catches your attention. Specifically the mention of Nico’s name.

“He’s still as hot as ever,” a dark haired girl in front of you comments, and you keep your eyes on your phone so they don’t think you’re eavesdropping.

“Do you think she’s actually with him or is that just another fuck you to his parents?”

Nico’s text comes through, but you can’t focus enough to read it. “I mean, she doesn’t look his type so who knows. Didn’t he say he wasn’t into commitment Lena?”

Out of the corner of your eye, a tall and leggy brunette twirls her hair around her finger and shrugs. “If he were into commitment don’t you think he’d be with me right now? It’s definitely just to piss off his parents, I mean did you see the size of her? Typical American girl.”

Suddenly you feel sick, like everything you’ve ever eaten is choking up in your throat and about to spew all over the mean girls in front of you.

“I heard he put her in the family,” a quieter voice says. “Timo was talking about it at the bar with Luca. He’s calling her his princess.”

The leader-Lena, scoffs. “Princess? She hasn’t even got a pendent let alone a ring.”

Maybe this why Nico doesn’t talk about his exes. They’re mean and petty little girls, girls that haven’t moved on in over 5 years. That doesn’t make it any easier to hear though.

“Probably another one of his deals. He fucks her, she pretends to be serious with him for a family trip.”

“Why would he decide to come back now with a fake girlfriend?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lena laughs, loud and proud. “He must have heard that I’m back at the estate.”

You decide that’s enough, pocketing your phone and clearing your throat. All the girls jump at the noise, turning to face you and you smile.

“Are you in line for the bathroom or just gossiping?” You ask politely, smirking as the color drains from all their faces. All except Lena, who looks you up and down before sheepishly nodding for you to go ahead.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” You say, stopping in the doorway to look at her. “You’d think Luca would have bathrooms strictly for family but I guess not.”

Embarrassed, they all laugh awkwardly and you close the door behind you. What the fuck?

~~~~

By the time you’ve returned to the booth, you’ve shaken off the word of those girls. You trust Nico, you know Nico loves you, and high school bullies that pick on girls weight and nationality aren’t going to change that.

Nico is still playing pool, but he catches your eye and winks as you settle in next to Nina. Smirking, you blow him a kiss before Nina is handing you music rights. Sipping on your drink, you pull up your playlist on your phone and find the Swiss songs Nico likes. Adding his favorite to the queue you hand the phone back.

“How do you know that song?” Maja asks you, chewing on the end of her straw. You take another sip of yours.

“Nico plays it every time we’re in the car.” You say, catching the eye of Lena over Maja’s shoulder. She simply raises an eyebrow you, throwing back whatever shot is in hand and purses her lips.

“Hey, do you guys know her?” You suddenly ask, nodding towards the bar where Lena is now perched over the top to steal cherries from behind the counter.

“Oh,” Nina mumbles, laughing awkwardly. “Rino does business with her father and uh…”

“She was into Nico?” You supply, glancing over at your boyfriend. Maja bites her lip, hesitantly nodding.

“She was supposed to marry him.” Nina tells you, lowering her gaze to the table. Suddenly it all clicks; the comments about sleeping with him, about him not committing, about using me.

The song changes, the beat immediately catching the attention of Nico who stands up taller and looks over at you. You smile, wiggling your fingers at him as Nina laughs.

“I never thought Nico could be so romantic.” Maja teases you, not that you get it. The rap song is lost on you, any translation you’ve tried to look up being even more confusing. So you just enjoy the beat of it usually.

“What?”

Nina laughs, finally realizing that you can’t understand Swiss German. “It’s a love song,” she tells you, and then she’s pulling up the lyrics and translating them for you.

It’s a lot of nonsense, cute tidbits about how the artist loves the habits and traits of his lover. But the chorus is sweet, a declaration of him finding love after being told he would always be on his own.

Unable to help yourself, you swallow down the rest of your drink and scramble out of the booth. Nico is watching you, bottom lip caught between his teeth as you approach him. He’s leaning on the pool stick but as soon as you get close he’s moving it aside.

You crash into him, bury your nose in his hoodie and holding his waist tightly. “What’s her deal?” Luca slurs, but he goes ignored. Nico squeezes you just once, swaying side to side in time with the song.

Closing your eyes, you think of him singing along in the car, humming it in the shower while he washes your hair for you, blasting it through the house when you two clean together.

“Who translated it for you?” He finally murmurs, his smile present in his tone.

“Your sister,” you say, resting your chin on his chest and looking up at him. He’s all white teeth and dimples when you meet his gaze, eyes glimmering with pride. “Her and Maja think you’re very romantic.”

Nico shrugs but doesn’t argue. The pool balls clink behind you and then Timo is hollering. “Game over Luca, pay up.”

Luca mutters something in Swiss, heading to the bar with his head low. You let go of Nico, giving Timo a chance to high five you both.

“Let me teach you to play,” Nico tells you, handing you the pool stick. You follow him to the end of the table, letting him show you how to rack up the balls. Timo chalks up your stick for you, tells you about the cue ball.

And you go about your night, teaming up with Nico to play Timo. He stands behind you for every shot, large hands over yours on the pool stick and his warm chest tight against your back.

It feels so good to have him wrapped around you that you don’t even notice the staring eyes of Lena and her friends.

And you don’t bring her up to Nico, though you probably should’ve.

~~~~

#nico hischier #mob boss Nico Hischier #nico hischer x reader #mob boss au #Him and I #nhl #new jersey devils #nj devils #fluff

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 days

Text

Winter's King 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: double chapter day?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The summer sun brings little warmth to the castle of Debray. Those left behind in the shadow of their lord’s march to war, bide their time with baited breaths and unspoken worries. The duchess sinks into her cups, a nectar to her already sharp tongue, as her daughter buries herself in her wardrobe.

Lady Jazlene hands you dress after dress, demanding a stitch here or there, only to snatch it back and have you cut the cloth of another to alter yet a third. And a fourth, fifth, sixth. Strips of fabric and loose buttons litter the drawing room table as you and Merinda put your needles to work.

“Motherrrr,” Jazlene swirls around, swaying her hips back and forth, “it has been a fortnight already.”

“Your father will return soon,” Lady Rezlyn slurs before she empties her goblet. She has no husband to chide her away from excess. “Never fear, dearest.”

“That is not—mother, what am I to do? I have no wedding dress!”

“You have no mind,” Rezlyn snickers, “you will have only rags by the time you decide.”

“Hm,” Jazlene approaches the table with her hands on her hips, “mother, that gown with the gold lace. The one you wore last solstice--”

“My gold lace,” Rezlyn sneers, “no!”

“But mother. I only want the lace. You can have it re-trimmed. It would look much nicer with pearls,” Jazlene whines, “do you not understand? I am to marry a king. I cannot look as some simple countryside daughter.”

Rezlyn clucks and shakes her head, “if it hushes your endless moaning, have the lace.”

Jazlene gives a triumphant grin and turns to you. She grabs your arm and the needle catches in the fabric, slipping from your grasp, “go fetch mother’s dress. It is rosy satin.”

“And wine! Bring more wine,” Rezlyn interjects.

Jazlene rolls her eyes and flicks you away with her fingers. You hastily retreat as Merinda grimaces at her labour. Your fingers hurt from the endless hemming and seaming and you’ve noticed she’s jabbed herself more than once as the noble daughter changes course back and forth.

You flit from the chamber and sweep down to the kitchens. The descent into the cellar is lit by only the candle in your hand, the flame wobbling dangerously before you. You find a bottle of the duchess’ preferred and climb back into the light.

You snuff the tallow and quickly press on you. You climb the stairs again but falter as the wail of a horn breaks the afternoon din. You spin and turn to the window. Several other servants cluster beneath the arched opening as they try to see the horizon. The blast comes again, three in quick succession, followed by a long blare.

The noise of chain and mail comes from the courtyard below. The few men left behind to man the castle walls are quick to action. You can see the flap of banners and nothing more between the other curious bodies.

“Who is it? Enemy soldiers?” Waldon wonders.

“I cannot see, my eyes are dim,” Margite shields her vision from the sun as leans over the sill. Their chatter swirls at the approach.

“It is them! The Lord’s banner!” Stellan exclaims, “I can make out the sun and the sword on the banner. And the Winter King’s white crown.”

“They return! They return!” Another cries out, “are they victorious?”

You shuffle away. You forget about the golden lace and return to the drawing room. You enter and look down at the bottle in your hands. You blink, trying to recall what you were about to do. You set the wine on the table near the duchess as Jazlene seizes your other arm.

“Where is the dress?” She snarls, “ugh, are you so useless--”

“They’ve returned,” you utter cluelessy.

“They...” Jazlene begins.

“The king and your father, my lady,” you explain, “we saw them through the window. I thought to say so before I went to your mother’s wardrobe--”

“Quiet!” She shoves you away, “I need a different dress. The crimson slit with ivory. Yes, yes, now!”

She pushes you again and you stumble to the door.

“And slippers,” she calls after you, “Merinda! Get over here.”

You scurry back out and to Lady Jazlene’s chamber. You enter and sort through the mess of her clothing strewn and heaped about. You find the red and ivory dress and a pair of slippers of a similar hue. You are certain to bring a selection of jewels and pins to assuage any further remonstrance.

In the drawing room, Jazlene has Merinda fixing her hairpins. You approach with your armful and lay it on the table. Outside the walls, you can hear the chaos unfurling. You can hardly keep the noises straight as cogs grind, ropes groan, and the noblewoman carry on their tittering.

You help Jazlene step into the dress, Merinda holding the other side. As you work at the sleeves and skirts, she fidgets around.

“The king? The king is with them for sure?” She breaths.

You nod, “yes, my lady. His banner--”

“Mother! They have won. They must have.”

“Do not be too presumptuous,” the other lady rises and nears the table, snatching up a string of pearls, “come. Put these around my neck.”

There’s banging and knocking and footfalls and voices yelling. The walls cannot keep out the rising fervour. Horse hooves and rusty hinges. They are close, in the castle or more. You pull tight the laces of the dress as Merinda clasps the pearls around the duchess’ thick neck.

There is someone before the door. A shadow darkens below it for just an instant before it opens. No permission is asked as Lord Dustan clatters in. His eyes is swollen near shut.

“Daughter, wife, you must come down to the--”

Heavy, steady steps follow him. You continue to weave the laces through the eyes, going as fast as you can.

“Father, I am not dressed. I am not ready to receive--” Jazlene protests.

Dustan looks behind him and backs away from the doorframe. King Geralt fills it with his large figure, a dark cut along his hairline though he hardly seems bothered by it. Otherwise, he is untouched, unblemished. You knot the laces as you peek over Jazlene’s shoulder and his gold eyes shimmer in the low lantern light.

“Your highness,” Jazlene gasps and drops to a curtsy. You stand, dumbfounded for an instant before you bend your neck and your knee to his status. “We were not warned of your coming. I pray you have tasted victory,” she raises her head slowly, “and we may wed in celebration to ring your reign in the Summer Kingdom.”

He grumbles as his eyes search the space. Dull yet vibrant at the same time. He tilts his head as his jaw squares, “a king’s wife mustn’t fret so much about silks and wine,” he growls as he breaks the threshold. He marches to the rigid high back chair and lowers himself, “victory is mine but that does not mark the end of my efforts. I have no kingdom until all that which has broken is repaired.”

“Certainly, your highness, and I will be by your side to help you amend what has been injured. As your loyal wife and queen,” she wilts as she wobbles just a little, “I am only so happy to see you alive and returned.” She rises as straight as she can and sweeps over to him, pushing out her chest, “but not unharmed. Your highness, you have been wounded.”

She goes to touch the gash along his forehead and he motions her away with a flat palm.

“It is not dire,” he insists, “Lord Dustan, where is your bishop?”

“I sent away for him. He will come,” the duke avows.

“The bishop?” Jazlene looks to her mother.

“For the vows, precious,” Dustan assures.

“The vows? Now? Today? But father--”

“I haven’t time to wait around on paltry feasts and drunken hordes,” the king insists.

“But-- but--” Jazlene stammers, “I am a queen, I should have a wedding.”

“You are still but a duke’s daughter,” the king snaps, “a wedding you will have. Let us swear the words as was arranged. Then we must away.”

“Away? Away?” Jazlene echoes again.

“Take this parrot away from me,” King Geralt barks as he slams his fist into the arm of chair, “I tire of her squawking. When the bishop arrives, fetch me and I shall keep the oath I made.”

The edge in his voice cannot be missed on that single word. He is a man who would not break a promise given, not the like the one cowering by the door. You glance up slowly as you notice Jazlene quaking. You can tell by her fists that she is not so much afraid anymore as she is angered.

“Daughter,” Rezlyn girds and touches her daughter’s arm, “a wife should learn first to obey. Let us go paint your lips and await the bishop.”

“This cannot be...” Jazlene hisses.

“Quiet,” Lord Dustan snaps, “you want to marry, you marry as you are told. Out.”

Lady Rezlyn keeps the duke from grabbing his daughter, instead steering her through the door herself. Merinda follows first and you trail after. The king grumbles, “Debray, leave a maid. She may fetch me that wine.”

“My lord,” Lord Dustan points you back tersely, “the wine.”

“Leave me,” King Geralt demands of his fair-weather lord.

Dustan retreats and shuts the door heavily. You turn and cross to the table where you left the sealed bottle. You put your hand around the neck and lift it. You face the king and cross to him with your head low.

“Your highness, would you like a goblet?” You ask.

“I am not interested in imbibing,” he reaches beneath his mail and pulls free a grey handkerchief, “pour it on this.”

You crack the wax seal of the bottle and grab the bulbous head of the cork. You wiggle it but cannot dislodge it. You struggle with it and he wraps his large hand around the pregnant bottom.

“Little maid,” he slips it from your grasp and puts the kerchief in your hand.

The uncorks it with only his thumb, flicking free the stopper, and he reaches out to you. You press the cloth to rim and he tilts it slightly, wetting the fabric. He pulls it away and reaches to place it on the floor. You look at him curiously. He leans forward and runs his index below the gash in his head. You get his meaning and daintily press the damp cloth to his head.

“The alcohol cleanses,” he says as he leans heavier into your touch.

“It looks rather painful, your highness.”

You wince at your own careless words. You don’t know why you said anything at all. He sits in silence, breathing slowly. At last, he sits back and looks at you. You drop your hand and your chin.

“Might I get you anything else, your highness?” You offer as you fold the cloth into a tight wad.

“Tell me, how do you fare?”

“Your highness?” You peek up at him through your lashes.

“Are you well? Have you rested? Are you fed?” He prompts.

You raise your head, surprised by his questions.

“I am well, your highness. I have a roof above me.”

His cheek ticks, “same as you were. Same as I remember.”

He puts his head back and closes his eyes. He sighs deeply. You waver before him, unsure what to do next.

“I don’t mind the cold. My land is frigid most days but I felt a true shiver out there on that road. Even Roach could not ease it.”

You watch him, awaiting an order, not so well attuned to conversation. More often than not, a response is not warranted, just action. He gives you little direction though he is a man who easily commands.

“My horse. Stinky steed,” he muses as he keeps his eyes closed, “valiant nonetheless.” He lets out another heavy exhale, “will you mind the door? Wake me when the bishop arrives should I doze?”

“As you wish, your highness,” you go to the door, taking your usual stance beside it.

He is still. The amber light of the lantern limns his large figure as he reclines in the stiff chair. He does not move but a man who has ridden to war has slept on worse. You cannot tell if he truly slumbers but you know it is not appropriate to stare.

You remain in silence. It isn’t so bad to the duchess and her daughter. Almost serene if not for the tension of the man’s presence. A king. A wintry figure with his icy hair and colder demeanour. You do not envy Jazlene, he will be a rigid husband. She will not bowl him over as her mother does the duke.

You listen beyond the walls, trying to track the activity beyond. There are softer voices you can’t make out, creaks which could be only the wind, and footfalls which are most certainly only servants about their tasks. The tedium stretches on as the lantern light wobbles.

You stare at the wall opposite. The summer hue breezes in with a hint of pollen between the open curtains. Still the chamber remains dim in stone and mortar.

There is the crank of the gates and you shift. You turn your head to hear better the entry of a new party. A man’s tenor from below assures you of the arrival. You wait until the footfalls reach the stairs. You do not relish waking the king should he have managed to sleep.

You look to the king in the chair but find him alert. His eyes are centered on you as he sits straight, golden irises blazing. You gulp and shy away.

“I believe the bishop has come, your highness.”

He doesn’t speak or move. He just watches you. His gaze bores until it burns. You fear you might have strayed somehow.

Finally, he slides to the edge of the chair and stands. He does not seem eager as he makes slow progress towards the door. As he crosses the room, he stops, just before the door, right beside you.

“A war for a wife,” he mutters, “a barter, I suppose.” He reaches for the metal loop on the door, “come, little maid, we might need a pillow should the lady faint again.”

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #winter's king #medieval au

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