"Daddy... I love youuuuu."

Mew grunts as his daughter jumps to his stomach and latches to his neck like a little monkey.

"I love you too, baby..."

"I love you." Thanya repeats.

Mew smiles and pecks her tiny forehead with so much love his heart bursts a little bubble of true happiness.

"I love you."

Mew smiles, rubbing his nose against hers and signs off another scroll, hugging her tight to his chest.

"I love you Daddy..." Thanya repeats and gives a tiny flick to Mew's feather, scowling.

"Aw... I love you too, sweetheart. Daddy has some papers to sign. It is urgent."

Thanya cups Mew's head with surprising strength, stares to his eyes unnervingly. "Do you love me, Daddy?"

Mew's frown slowly transforms as his eyes start to narrow one moment a time.

"What did you do?"

Thanya's 'innocent eyes bulges. "Nothing!"

Mew's eyes narrow further. "What are you going to do?"

This time Thanya frowns at him as if he is talking tongues. "Nothing! Daddy!"

This time, Mew's eyes almost close in suspicion. "What are you going to make me do?"

There!

Thanya's sheepish grin widens big and she hugs her dad so tight.

Mew groans inwardly but he hugs her back just as tight.

"I need cake."

That seems like a reasonable request... unless...

"What did mama say?"

Thanya's angry eyes meets his gullible ones and Thanya mimics Mama Kana. "No baby!"

Mew sighs. "Well... Mama makes cakes. If he says 'no baby', then baby should listen to him." Mew pecks her cheek to appease her.

"Thanya loves cake."

Mew knows it too. But Gulf is not the one to just say 'no' outrightly.

"Did you have breakfast?"

Thanya nods.

"Did you have lunch?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Tummy full?"

"Yes Daddy... Tummy big and round." Thanya lifts her top and shows daddy how big and round her filled tummy is.

Mew gently tickles her tummy and fixes her lavender tunic back. "Then why no cake for you?"

"Ask mama, Daddy." Thanya quickly jumps off of him but not before he sees her cheeky devilish grin. She starts pulling his forefinger earnestly and he stands up with a groan.

"Thanya... please do not get me in trouble..."

Thanya blinks her 'oh so innocent eyes' at him. "Daddy come and ask Mama cake for Than-Than."

"Baby darling..."

She quickly hugs his knees and looks up with pleading eyes and sad pout.

Ferek.

Mew is not above that begging.

He lifts her up and asks her once again, if there is any trouble.

With a gently shake of her head, she hugs his neck tight hiding her face. "Daddy Boo Boo... please."

Mew snorts.

Okay, so he is in for a major trouble with his wife but... come one, his daughter is using all the techniques in the Holy Book of 'How to warp your father around your little pinkie – Princess edition'.

The kitchen is smelling so delicious but he sends a quick pray when he sees his wife moving around the area mimicking a tornado.

'Ah the Monk Feast of Pol. Nice day to annoy your mother, child.' Mew simply thinks and gives a quick pat to Thanya's back.

Here goes nothing.

"Darli..."

Mew gulps his words when Gulf turns around annoyed and his face conveys all the frustration when he sees Thanya in his hands.

"P'Mew..." Gulf warns.

"She wants a cake. Come on Biii..."

Thanya nods to his shoulder in approval. 'Good Daddy.'

Gulf turns around taking a deep breath. "No."

"Come on, Guppie... Is one cake... The monks won't miss it?"

"One cake?!! One cake?!!" Gulf almost screeches. "Try ten!"

"Eight." Thanya mumbles and Mew's eyes bulges out!

"Ten cakes?!!!"

"Eight." Thanya repeats.

"Still too much, Honey... You could get sick!!!" Mew is genuinely worried.

Gulf exhales. "It is not the whole cakes Khun Phi... She licks the centre and makes us eat the rest!!!"

Gulf points to a platter full of mangled cakes and oh his wife is seriously angry.

"If Mama Mi eats one more he will puke. He cannot stand the smell anymore because he is on the left over duty. I am not eating anymore after telling everyone - no more cakes for Thanya!"

The valets quickly turn their face and start doing invisible jobs.

But Mew gets them.

How can you turn down an adorable trouble maker like Thanya. Sooner or later, you will melt.

Mew tries to reason with Gulf because there is no reasoning with Thanya. He needs to pick his fights carefully.

"Come on darling. Just one more. She..."

"P'Mew I am not throwing away my cakes. You do not know how much effort, time and money I invest. If she eats the whole cake, I will give her as much as she wants... if she eats without getting sick. But... see, the centre only she wants! Mymi won't take another bite!"

Mew winces.

"And I am not feeding my animals the over sugary stuff. So do not even go there!"

"I will eat..." Mew knows he will regret it but... come on.

He is the ruler of this realm and if he cannot get a cake for his only daughter what good is he?!

"P'Mew... you won't eat it. It has strawberry and cheese."

"What? I eat if it is made by you. I have grown quite fond of your strawberry pastry."

Gulf sighs. "This is the size of your palm and there will be no filling to balance the sweet because your daughter will lick it up."

Thanya gives a pained mumble and Mew consoles her.

"Our daughter." Mew corrects. "It is fine, darling. Nothing a drop of your gazwan pickle cannot fix."

Gulf sighs again and Thanya gives a side eye to check mama's reaction and grins when mama' takes out a cake tray.

"Fine. Just one."

Thanya lifts her two fingers and Gulf raises his eyebrow. "You will get it from me, child!" He scolds.

"Come on darling. Do not scold the baby. Give her two. Listen to me, Thanya, no more cakes today and you will listen to mama all the time."

Gulf rolls his eyes and takes out two more cakes. "Then may be Daddy should stick with Mama when he says 'no'."

"Ouch, wifiee... come on. It is not like that..."

Gulf lets Mew beg at his feet. But he hands over the cakes in a plate but pulls back just in time for a final warning.

"Thanya, these are the final ones. I mean it! You cannot trick Papa and your brothers now for more cakes. This is it."

Oh the offended look Thanya gives him. "WHAT?? Papa and bros need cakes too!"

Mew throws his head back and roars in laughter. "You, my naughty little baby!!! You were going to trick them after me! Oh, Than... What do we do with you?"

Even Gulf cannot help but chuckle and joins Mew in their little family hug.

He affectionately gives a pat to Thanya's bum. "This is enough. If anyone comes for a cake before the feast at night, I will spank your bum."

"No, Mama... Please..." Thanya starts but Daddy also joins Mama this time and she has no way out without agreeing.

Mama has threatened to take these cakes away if she does not relent.

So, she and Daddy eat the cakes at the garden and she giggles every time Mew makes a face when he gulps down the cake without the filling.

"Too sweet and milky." Mew mumbles but his daughter is very amused. So, it is all worth it.

But it is okay, Gulf's spicy pickles clears his palette real quick.

"Your pickles make my Mama run for his money." Tharn slurps up the spicy soup with a dash of pickle sauce like a starved man."

"There is plenty. If you eat like this, you will end up snorting and the heat will burn your brain inside out." Type scowls and pours another bowl full of soup for Tharn to inhale. "And stop comparing me with your mothers. I am not okay with it."

"Now you sound like Mama' Mi."

Type not-so-gently smacks Tharn's shoulder but the man barely notices.

"I am not comparing. My moms are worried, nobody else can feed me... coz I have... 'peculiar tastes.'"

"You do not have a special tongue! You are just so spoiled that you make your moms worry a lot. You eat whatever I put on table!"

"Coz, if I don't you will starve me. You are so mean to me, Tai Baby..."

Type rolls his eyes but he knows it is true.

The competition is kicking his butt quite literally. Type does his stretches and cusses his previous opponent. The kick on his butt just as he went down was personal from her end.

Come on!

She was jealous, Type has a cuter bum and also... he is the better fighter.

Type snickers.

"Did you see her face, Thara?" Type chuckles and Tharn nods eagerly.

"She was such a sour loser!"

"Yup!" Type gives a playful shake of his waist and does a quick warm up. He has five more items and then his team's little ones contact spars begin.

Sigh!

There will be tears.

He just prays, they do not start napping in the middle of a kick. Yup, they might.

But what can he do? The adorable babies are not meant to be warriors just yet but yeah... school curriculum!

Type wraps his fingers with protective lining and does a mock fight to the air as Tharn whistles.

"Shut up, asshole! Eat faster!"

Type is not eating just yet. A full tummy would drag him down.

He will eat after the competition. Today is the last day for him and his scores look pretty good.

Type takes a very long breath when his name is announced for next queta.

He tries hard not to look but at the last chime of the bell for him to get inside the ring, his eyes clashes with Tharn's. God! Wolf's eyes are so fucking gorgeous and the man has the nerve to give him a confident smirk as if he knows Type is incredibly capable of acing this difficult routine.

How could he!

Yet, his eyes dip a little down in submission and he can hear the Wolf's muffled groan from here.

The man and his kinks!

Type takes one more long breath, exhales, relaxes his whole body and runs to the tower in precise, calculated moves.

The short knives fall to his palms smoothly from his arm sleeves and he effortlessly climbs the steep tower due to the momentum of his run.

The knives fly left and right but Type... he is gorgeous and lethal... not a single eye straying from his lithe figure as he does a perfect climb...

With a final kick, Type somersaults thrice in the air and land perfectly down before taking a look back at his work.

The slices of hard wood fall one by one where his knives have cut deep and the final piece falls precisely on the marked floor.

Type does a beautiful twirl with a whistle and he scores the perfect 13 in his mark board.

YES!!!

The Kitten cannot contain his excitement and if it is not for the lust on many people's faces, he would have done something childish like... a holler or... sing a song or... maybe climb up Tharn's lap and do a dirty dance!

Like come on!

A perfect 13! Who even does that?!

Type. That is who!

So, pardon him for being extra chirpy for a few moments.

Yet he groans when the barricades are removed from the entrance and the little munchkins come in, line by line for their competitions as well.

If they are not adorable enough... the tiny gi's covering equally tiny bodies makes Type want to steal some kids and hide them in the pockets.

Come on!

They are that adorable!

Type does not even like kids.

The line breaks apart when one of the kids decides to check something shiny on the floor and the next one decides the chairs looks good enough to practice her kicks and another baby decides to slap some mark slates of the table and...

The hell breaks loose until the announcer politely ask the team leaders to handle their own 'team members'.

Who even make these less-than-a-foot-tall tiny beings,.the team members!

Type sighs and start collecting his 'team members' who have strayed too far for their own good.

He even thinks of tying all of them with some belts around their little necks because they just keep on wandering around.

It is also difficult to make them understand that... it does not matter if they best friends for life, they are now rivals and competitors because... because...

Well curriculum sucks!

"But... Thimmy is friend!" Meez does a sassy hand gesture as if to make his tutor, Type to understand.

"Yes, he is..." Type rolls his eyes behind his fisted palm... "Again, Meez, he is your friend but this is a game and you need to win."

"I no mind if he wins." Meez argues back.

See!

Type is not fit for this.

From cute kicks to painful punches his team also gives their best but... he also has to break up the fights within the team because apparently his kids still do not get which 'friend' deserves to get punched in the 'game'.

It is not that easy to teach rivalry.

Type keeps giving pointers and apparent guidance to little Tolly who is busy defending himself from the attacks of his opponent.

As good as the kid in close combat this little one does not have any mean bone in his body and he is more confused as to why his classmate is suddenly kicking him.

Sigh!

"Lower yourself down, Toll! And kick his knee." Type circles around the tiny ring but the opponent kid is good as well. He gives a nice kick to Toll's chest and the poor boy falls on his back, little legs up.

Sigh!

"It is okay, Toll. UP! UP! We can get him this time. Up!" Type tries cheering him up and Toll dusts off his gi and stands up wobbly. The little lips wobbles as well and it is kind of heart breaking.

"Is okay... Look at me! It is okay. We will get him..."

Toll tries real hard but then he starts sob... wiping his little eyes and come on! They are little kids for Ba's sake!

"Give him one more kick!!! Kick him!!! Kick him!" The opponent team chants and it makes Toll cry harder.

Type would beat the shit up of the adults in the opponent's team, no joking!

But this is a competition and no matter what... only winning matters...

Toll looks up at him miserably and... Type scratches the back of his neck frustrated at the situation.

Whatever! He will take the burn.

"We forfeit." Type tells the umpire as well as the opponent's trainer. "We forfeit. He is not feeling good and... it is okay."

Type gets in to the ring and picks up Toll and the kid buries his wet face on Type's neck, sobbing and hiccupping. "It is okay, Toll... this is just a game."

He signs off the score sheet and the umpire declares the opponent a winner.

"Say 'good job' to Ethet, Toll. Say, 'we will fight next time'."

"N...no... fight..." Toll says miserably, hugging Type harder.

Type shakes Ethet's little hand, bows to audience with Toll hugging him tight and receives the coos and consoling applauds.

Type seats Toll on his thigh and brushes off the 'pain' on Toll's body but he keeps on hugging Type.

He gently pats the little tight back and consoles the kid. "Why would you cry? It is okay. It is over. See..."

Ethet waddles over poking on Type's knees seeing Toll cry. "I sorry."

Type sighs.

He is getting a nose bleed. He is not fit to handle this.

Ethet tries to get on Type's other thigh and...

What the hell! What is he going to lose?

Type seats this little one on his other thigh and... a round table conference ensues on the existing competition politics and a friendly merge... on his body right now.

The little opponents, have their way too important discussion carried out, ignoring Type and they have decided, the competition is silly anyways.

"Wanna popsicle? They have it." Ethet points somewhere and Toll nods wiping his snot on Type's shoulder.

Ethet holds Toll's hand and they slither down Type's lap and... off they go.

Type is not sure what he is feeling.

He is clearly offended and... a bit... funny.

It is cute. He has to admit that even with his aversion to little kids.

He takes the disposable towels from the rack and wipes the snot of his shoulder. His eyes meet amused Tharn's and he just shrugs.

Being a baby trainer sucks! I mean, Tolly and that little kid Ethet are nap buddies. How could they kick each other in name of a silly intraschool competition.

Tharn is laughing his ass off and Type shoots him an unamused glare.

"Yo, Type! What in the bloody hell! We lost points! Who are you to decide forefeiting!!! 5 points we lost! Who is going to fix that? Your mama?"

Type's eyes turn black and his skin turn ashy with anger...

Keep his mama out of this.

Yet, he counts and breathes. He is not allowed to play with people's souls in this campus.

Breath, Type! Breath! Out of campus, he is fair deal... be patient.

"Maybe you should. You got high score of a pathetic 9 on queta." Type smiles fake at Yato... "I have aggregate of 52 in queta alone. You have 23! Take 5 points from me if you have to... leave my kids alone."

"That is not the..."

"The archery is in zone phi... go score some points for the team, if you are that worried." Type flips him off and walks away before he smashes his fist on the ugly prick's big head.

Type pushes everyone off of his vicinity... he needs to let off this steam...

He...

It is a heavy crackle of emotions on his chest and he... he feels he is losing control.

He needs a good mediation... some cold water flowing over his body... some calming symphonies and...

"You were magnificent..." Tharn purrs on his ears and the reverberation leaves goosebumps all over Type's body.

He... It should not feel so good and...

He... should not feel so needy...

"I got so jealous when people started commenting on... you... your body... your posture and... your..."

"Stop it..." Type controls the squeaks... and the pleasure on his body... as Tharn's fingers find their way inside their shirt and roam around his torso. "Tolly has snotted all over me... leave me if you do not want it on your face."

Tharn chuckles and damn, it sounds to raspy and carefree...

"You are so cute and... so... considerate... I am tempted to impregnate you." Tharn starts unbuttoning his gi and gently pushing him to a dark corner.

"Tharn! Someone might see..."

"Be grateful, I did not take you right inside the queta ring. You have tempted me, Kitten."

His clothes slip down... then comes the hot kisses and then...

"Don't you dare do this here, Tharaa."

"Shut up..." Tharn's words are a bare whisper but Type has to bite his lip to stop himself from moaning. "I am half-tempted to take you to..."

Silence as Tharn starts nibbling his shoulder.

"To?" Type asks half aroused – half curious.

At this point it does not matter where he is going as long as he is going with Tharn.

The thought does frighten him.

He...

"To my dungeon..." Tharn's bites have started to hurt a bit and god, is it delicious... "Tie you up... hurt you good... till you are delirious and I get..."

Tharn gulps, shivering from the mental image.

"Get a taste of your submission, I saw moments ago in the queta ring..."

Type gulps down his beating heart that almost try to crawl up his throat in excitement... as if to hear Tharn's words in person.

"I did not subm..."

Tharn swallows Type's words and later moans.

Tharn loops Type's pretty leg around his torso and... plunges deep.

God. He lives to see this look on Type's face.

The small wince, the scrunched eyebrows, the shivering lips as nails dig deep on his back.

"Baby..." Tharn whispers... as if he is not the one putting Type through this intense situation.

Type is flying... floating...

No...

He is sinking... submerging...

No...

He is...

No...

He is not...

All his shields are crashing down. He admits he has been craving for Tharn for quite sometime now.

He is... he is deeper in their connection... whatever that connection is.

Lust.

Type can only admit to that much!

Anything more... his psyche would snap and...

Yet...

Type feels his power slowly seeping off... his mental and tantric shields going down as little by little shivers start flowing down from his brain to... his heart... to his stomach... to...

Type snaps opens his eyes and... Tharn is looking at him in wonder.

"Your eyes... They are flickering, my beautiful..." Tharn whispers against his lips. "I always knew... something about your pretty eyes..."

Type begs to let go and when has Tharn ever listen to him... especially when Tharn clearly has Type trapped in trance.

"Show me..." Tharn asks... no... orders.

Tharn leans back, his hand and eyes... taking every inch of Type's flesh.

The runes and necromancy marks on his body reveals itself and no matter how hard Type tries... he has no control over his body or mind anymore.

"So fucking beautiful." Tharn rasps...

And the time stops when Type's eyes stop flickering and changes completely to midnight blue.

Silver hair...

Midnight blue eyes...

Cross on the left cheek...

Web like black marks on right palm...

Type feels every bit of freak that he is but then...

"You are fucking mine!" Tharn roars and captures him again, forcing him into submission.

Type... never been submissive by nature... fights fruitlessly to regain some resemblance of control in this position.

But...

It was never a question... especially when Thara goes all... possessive and lovey-dovey on him.

The thought makes Type giggle a bit, even as he tries to get away...

Tharn growls, traps Type in a back hug and... clamps his teeth on Type's shoulder...

Going to hell without any thought.

"Don't you fucking hide from me again, Kitten. Fucking ever!" Tharn orders and Type mewls.

Blood tastes good on Wolf's tongue and... Kitten purrs after one last struggle.

The world is spinning around them and Tharn wraps himself around his Kitten on the floor, hiding from whatever outside... as they both slip into utter calmness after the chaos.

Type blinks drowsily to nothingness trying to make sense of what has happened.

He gulps when his chakras make no peep and his shields remain down.

A necromancer... perfectly safe and content in a Wizard's nest. The green beams are surrounding both of them from intruders and unwarranted magic.

He sits up and removes Tharn's hand around his waist... and he notices how the hand tightens a bit before loosing... as if Tharn never wants him to go.

Staring mindlessly on his web marked hands and gently pulling on his silver hair... Type is feeling all types vulnerabilities there are.

He has always been a freak... and now Tharn has a glimpse of what and how he is.

It is disheartening that he has no explanation for why he is the way how he is.

He does not need a mirror to know that his eyes - without his shields - are blue... The Freak Blue.

Not like other necromancers... not like any wizard... not like anybody.

Type covers his face, swipe his anxious sweaty hands across and...

Leaves his lover... tip – toeing out of... wherever the puppy has dragged him to.

Type should stop doing this...

It has gone too far.

__________________________________________________________________________________
Tharn has never felt better ever...

Of course his Kitten has run away and has been hiding since that day...

But it is okay...

They have... something has happened.

Something has snapped and fell in place...

Tharn is... at peace.

He is happy and... excited and...

Today he will see his Kitten.

The flowers in his hands are slowly shaking as if they can feel how erratic his heartbeats are...

His love... his mate... his heart... his Type...

Tharn's smiles freezes, when Type comes to the cafeteria with a beautiful slim girl in his hands...

Literally Type has his hand wound around her thin hourglass waist... protective and possessive.

Tharn's eyes flashes mage green and Techno asks the question that is burning his tongue.

"Who is this, Type?"

"Meet Puifai, guys..."

'Who the fuck is Poopfai...' Tharn grinds his teeth only to get his heart shattered in one simple sentence from Type's pretty mouth.

"... my girlfriend."