#The moment my stepmother said something like:

[crookedteethed]

HOW i slept with your father | r.c.

Pairing: (older)Bestfriend's Dad Rafe! x Fem!reader

Summary: In which you tell your best friend how you accidentally slept with her father...oops.

Warnings: 18+ Semi-smut (protected p in v) (smut showed through flashback), age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Rafe is in his early forties), cursing, ocs, unrealistic reactions?, hints at Rafe being a fuckboy, I also can't tell if Rafe preyed on reader (you decide for yourself)

A/N: This story is really just reader telling her best friend about her night with Rafe, lmk if you want an actual smutty fic with bestfriend dad Rafe (heart emoticon)

Word count: 1.6k

"Maribella, I had sex with your Father."

There, you said it. Your guilty conscience has been cleared. Your mind has been restored, and you can stop thinking about how much of a terrible friend you are because you're really not. You told the truth.

It's like that old stupid proverb, something about the truth setting you free or you setting the truth free, something like that.

There had been a moment of silence. A moment in which Maribella had slowly turned around from her lowboy vanity, half of her face the color of rose red from the blush powder she'd been frantically beating on her cheeks--you two were going out tonight. 

In that moment of silence, you glanced at the ticking clock up on Maribella's wall. It was 8:50 pm, and the boys-- the ones you and Maribella met on the beach that evening, were supposed to pick you both up in thirty minutes. 

"Gross." Maribella mumbles, returning to her vanity mirror and continuing to powder her cheeks. "You aren't going to be my new stepmother now, are you?" She says. 

You looked at the framed photo on Marbella's vanity--the photo of a smallish Maribella with chubby cheeks and missing baby teeth sandwiched between a very young Mr. Cameron and Maribella's Late mother (She wasn't dead, just not in Maribella's life after the divorce). 

You think to yourself how much of a resemblance your friend shares with her father--the same cerulean-colored eyes and dusky blond hair--you remember thinking this that night in which you fucked Mr. Cameron. 

You remember having to close your eyes shut while his girthy length pile drove into you during missionary, but Rafe had insisted on keeping your eyes open, or he wouldn't have let you cum that time. "Eyes on me, baby." he said, lightly tapping your cheek.

"No, not if you don't want me to." you said.

Maribella hums.

"To make it even, you can sleep with my father." you suggested, which cause Maribella to scrunch up her face in her backwards reflection.

"Your father's gross and old." She says. "and besides, isn't he still with that women?"

"My mother? Yes."

You watch from your spot on Maribella's bed as she gets up from her vanity and enters her walk-in closet.

"At least I get the appeal with my father." She shouts from the other room.

Minutes later, Maribella emerges from her closet, no longer in her silk bathrobe but in a simple white slip dress. 

"How do I look?" she asks you.

"Cute." you tell her.

She hums again, being satisfied with your response. Then, Maribella goes back to her vanity to continue doing her makeup.

"So, tell me." She says. "Tell me how'd you fucked my dad."

You shrug. "It just happened one time." and many other times afterward.

"Y'know." Maribella turns around excitedly. "Out of all the women my dad has slept with, you're the first one I ever gotten to talk to about it, so what was he like?"

Now it was your turn to scrunch up your face in disgust. "Maribella, this is gross. I'm not going to tell you how your dad fucks in bed."

"No fair." she whines. "I tell you about all the guys I've slept with."

You raise your eyebrow, to be fair she had a point.

"Let's just pretend my dad isn't my dad or Mr. Cameron; he's just Rafe, some stupid boy you fucked; now tell me everything."

Rafe was just some stupid guy you had fucked, but he wasn't a boy; he was all man--which is what had you enamored by him--it was either that or he was the first guy actually to tend to the needs of being wanted that had you so enamored by him.

 Unlike other guys you had been with, Rafe was attentive and considerate, making sure to meet your needs and desires. That's what made him stand out and had you so enamored.

This is why you kept coming back.

It was the night of Maribella's 21st birthday party. In your retellings of the story, you failed to mention how Rafe had kept staring at you that night. Every time you encountered each other, his eyes would first wander to your lips and then linger on your breast--which was practically spilling out the top of your corset. And each time you labeled him "Mr. Cameron," he would insist on you calling him "Rafe" because you were no longer a child. 

And it was liberating that Rafe did not see you as a child anymore, now seeing you for who you are: an adult woman. 

You also failed to mention when you spotted Rafe and his then-date, some black-haired women equally his age, arguing on the upstairs deck of Tanny Hill.

You didn't tell Maribella that you overheard Rafe's date yell at him: "Don't call me the next time you're horny, call Mrs. Young Pussy instead." Before storming out.

You kept in how Rafe had called you Beautiful that night, you didn't keep in how much that made you blush, after Maribella had said "Gross."

You exaggerated how much you had drunk that night to make it seem like a blackout drunk story—was it 10 shots? 20? You've forgotten, you told Maribella.

You told Maribella how after you and Rafe carried a shit-fazed Maribella to her bedroom, Rafe told her you didn't have to go home as the rest of the guests did; you could stay.

"You're always welcomed to stay" His exact words.  

You also left out that moment in which you and Rafe shared in the kitchen sharing a bottle of wine, in which you confronted him about his date leaving mad, and in his exact words:

"Women my age are just so uptight."

And though you hadn't quite understood what he meant, you nodded anyway.

He then says: "I'm sure you can understand that, but in reverse, with men your age."

"Men my age are stupid and don't know what they want." you responded.

"That's a shame." Rafe had told you. "Because I know what I want."

And you knew it wasn't the weed you smoked earlier or the few sips of red wine you were having that altered your perception to make you think Rafe was getting closer to him; Rafe was getting closer to you. 

By the end of the conversation, Rafe was no longer on the opposite side of the kitchen island; he was now standing beside you, the skin of his elbow touching yours. 

Your breathing had become uneven as Rafe's gaze remained steadfastly locked with yours, but you deliberately avoided meeting his eyes, for this was your best friend's father.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to think of a way to break the silence. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to look into the intense blue of Rafe's eyes.

You didn't tell Maribella when you told Rafe that you weren't uptight, which was a quip to his response about knowing what he wants. And then he kissed you.     

The kiss took both of you by surprise, but it was undeniable that there was a spark between you. As your lips met, time seemed to stand still, and in that moment, you knew that this was the beginning of something extraordinary.

"And then we had sex." you concluded to Maribella.

Sex would be an understatement, you fucked.

Rafe had placed pecks on every inch of your body as he carried you into his bedroom, a room that was always off-limits when you and Maribella used to play with each other growing up. 

You were too enamored by Rafe's bergamot scent and how he kept calling you beautiful with each peck to your flesh to examine his room and hypothesize why this room of all rooms was once off limits. 

You were too overwhelmed when you felt his large muscular hands tear your clothes off your body to notice the picture of Maribella sitting on Rafe's bed side table.

You were too overcome with lust and craving when Rafe requested that you retrieve a condom from his nightstand, where you intentionally dislodged the photograph of Maribella.

Out of sight out of mine.

As Rafe carefully rolled the condom down his reddening shaft, you feigned an air of eager anticipation, so much so that you almost missed when Rafe remarked:

"You have no idea how long I've been longing for this moment."

Right then, without a warning, Rafe plunged himself deep inside of you like no man has ever done before. 

Your eyes widened, and your mouth formed the shape of an 'o' as you felt his thick cock split your cunt open, kiss your cervix, and sheath deep inside your belly. 

You counted the number of times Rafe said your pussy was tight; it was a number of 10.

At this point, Maribella no longer sat at her vanity and was now sitting beside you on her bed. 

"Oh, lame." She says. "So it was just a drunken mistake, a one-night stand kind of thing?"

You hummed. This reminds you that you should cut things off with Rafe since Maribella knows now. 

Right then in the moment Maribella's phone dings.

"The boys are here." She says. "You ready?"

And as you and Maribella walked down the spiral staircase of Tanny Hill, your friend told you:

"Now that I think of it, I'm not that pissed that you slept with my dad; as I said, I get it: he's rich, and he's good-looking for his age; what other qualities do you need in a man?"

In which you hummed again.

"Now if this was a recurring thing, that's a whole other story--Oh! hi Daddy."

As you and Maribelle descended to the base of the stairs, you were greeted by Rafe.

Rafe looked at you first before greeting his daughter.

You made an effort to maintain eye contact with him, despite his patronizing gaze, resisting the temptation to steal glances at him in his form-fitting shirt that accentuated his muscular physique.

You focused on maintaining a calm and composed demeanor, refusing to let his condescension affect you. Instead, you redirected your attention to the conversation at hand.

"Where are you girls headed?" He asks, addressing no one in particular.

"We're going out," Maribella says, sensing the tension and tugging your wrist towards the door.

"Don't wait up for me; we'll be out all night," Maribella said, Rafe's eyes never leaving yours as you and Maribella exited the door.

The boys you'd met earlier—Steven and Conrad, you think their names were—were parked outside Tanny Hill, blasting some obnoxious music from their car speakers.

"Oh wait, I think I forgot something," you tell Maribella as you approach the car. 

You don't wait for Maribella's approval before jogging back inside her house, where her father awaited you behind the front door with a sly smirk on his lips.

"I knew you couldn't resist telling me a goodbye," he remarked, just as the two of you leaned in for a messy, passionate kiss.

Knowing you were pressed for time, you were the one to break the kiss. 

'Same time again tomorrow night?' he asks, his voice filled with a mix of hope and desire as he wipes away the remnants of your shared moment. 

"Same time." you reassured.

[bucknastysbabe]

hii, could you write smt abt aegon ii? 🥹 like kinda perv and loser stepbrother!aegon

YES I CAN! Hope you enjoy, getting back into my Aegon ways a bit! Xoxo

Just like that video! - Aegon II

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Loser perv step-bro Aegon, TW: alcohol abuse, underage (17) sexual moment, cocaine use, fat shaming, modern au, Aeg’s a shit but means well, Lannister reader, and they were step-siblings, lots of banter, pnv!sex, chubby!aeg, begging, family interactions, pseudo Incest and they get off on it, the panties were allowed to be kept

Taglist: @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @lovelykhaleesiii @sugarpoppss2 @fairysluna @thought--bubble @valeskafics @dr-aegon @targaryen-madness @starogeorgina @fallingintoyourlilaceyes

You had no choice but to come home for college this summer, being a lame freshman. Next year you planned on getting a place off-campus with some of your tennis teammates. You would go back to the mansion this summer, reluctantly.

The stupid mansion your family had inherited over generations. Casterly Rock. Now it was infested with your stepmother's weird fucking offspring, minus Daeron. You liked Daeron. Regardless, the youngest sibling could not protect you from the advances of Alicent's eldest son Aegon.

He was harmless, really. He currently was in a 'gap year' between his junior and senior years. The term gap year was a nice overcoat of gloss. You knew he had a bad coke and alcohol problem and needed to get straightened out. You hadn't seen the fucker since he was absent for most of the holidays in a sober-living program.

You had been home for about three hours now, isolating in your room, watching Hulu, bored as fuck. You had spoken to your father and Alicent while the servants brought up your belongings. Alicent asked politely, "How was nationals? You know we would have come but Daeron was graduating."

"We got our ass kicked, I wish I was there to see Daeron too. Where's his highness?"

Jason grumbled, "Eating the house."

Alicent's face soured slightly at the mention of Aegon. She hummed, "He's just working his program and staying sober until he can finish up school. Mainly mopes around, it'll be good for him to have you here." You nodded, holding your tongue. Jason snorted and said, "Make him get the hell off his ass or something, play tennis, who knows. Dinner's at eight."

It would be a boring summer. Maybe you could call up the Reyne or Tarbeck boys for some fun. You didn't particularly want to hang around your peaked and washed-up fratboy loser of a stepbrother. You remember from when you were younger and excited, your father was marrying into the royal family!

You were met with a toddling Daeron, shy and dreamy Helaena, intense Aemond, and Aegon. Who promptly pointed at your chest and scoffed, "Totally not like the porno huh? That's lame." You stood in abject Lannister horror, planning on his immediate downfall.

Instead, you grew up under the shadows of your strange siblings. Aegon was 4 years your elder and acted like he was still in middle school. He ignored or made fun of his 'stuck-up stepsister.' You had a strange interaction when he was home on a holiday You had just turned seventeen and Aegon was a junior. He was pretty bad off when he first came in with Criston, the guard holding him up.

Aegon was rail-thin, drunk as fuck, and a crying mess. You exchanged a look with Aemond, the other brother making a face of disgust. He whispered to you, "Dumbass is about to get kicked out of school, he's on academic probation right now. Or might I mention his raging alcoholism and cocaine addiction?"

The pair of you watched him get dragged off to your parent's room. You mustered a weak reply, "I knew he was a drunk but not that damn bad." Alicent had put him on Antabuse when he was in high school and then deemed him alright to go to college.

That night you'd gone out with the Westerlings to Lannisport, you had a fake ID yourself. Coming back you managed to score Aegon some blow and a bottle. You don't know why you did. Maybe it was that desire to gain his pointless approval. You did it anyhow, smuggling it into your purse. Criston didn't bat an eye, he thought you were the golden child, soon-to-be salutatorian, and a tennis scholarship to a good school in Oldtown.

You crept down the hall, Aegon had the big room on the corner of the second floor. Knocking on the door, a haggard Aegon moaned, "What? I feel like shit! Fuck off, Cole! Jason! Whoever you are!"

You yell-whispered back, "No dumbass it's me, I have something."

The door opened to a much sicker Aeg, eyes red-rimmed, skinny body trembling under a thick blanket. You gasped "What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you have a virus?"

"No. Withdrawals. What did you bring me?" His violet eyes leered at your bodycon dress, making your cheeks heat up. He was handsome, stepbrother or fiend or whatever. You looked around and handed him the baggie and bottle. Aegon's eyes lit up and his smile brightened. He dragged you into his room, smelling of sweat and alcohol.

"Thank fuck, I needed this so bad, gods you are an angel."

You shrugged, standing there as he chugged some of the liquor, sighing in audible relief. He eyed you and asked, "You got a credit card?" Nodding in slight fear you rifled more in the purse and handed him the card. Aegon locked his door and got busy chopping up the coke. You pulled out your wine bottle and sat down, watching him drinking and shakily chopping up the white powder.

You ended up drunk as a skunk, Aegon absolutely cooked and giddy. He was making you laugh, chatting like you were a friend. Going so far as to inquire about your boring life. He seemed at ease, the dark cloud that would hang over Aegon had melted. The blonde looked at you with glassy eyes and hummed, "M'sorry for being a prick, you're not half bad."

"Sure, you're just happy I fueled your problem. Stuck up Lannister isn't that boring."

He laughed a bit, pretty teeth shining. Aegon asked, "Wanna watch this stupid movie? M'wired up right now." You gestured to the remnants of the coke and giggled, "I'd imagine, yeah come on then." You'd drunkenly climbed onto his huge bed, Aegon plopping on the other side, typing the movie into the big ass television.

It was funny, but somewhere along the way, Aegon had inched his way toward you. You had moved closer to him, snuggling into his side. The voice of reason was screeching in your head. Your stepbrother turned his face to yours, murmuring, "You're so fucking pretty you know that? I don't care how fucked up that is, I am fucked up."

You surged forward to meet his plump lips, Aegon's hand holding your cheek as he kissed you. He laughed darkly, nipping at your lip and sliding in a tongue. As the liplock grew more heated- spit-slick lips and tongues sliding against each other, Aegon rolled his frame atop yours, settling between your spread legs. Your dress rucked up to your panties from the movement, drawing a helpless whine from your throat.

This was disgusting, wrong, awful.

You arched into his touches on your hips, groaning into his mouth as you sensually kissed him, growing messier by the second. Aegon rutted a bit against your pussy, softly moaning and squeezing your waist. He murmured in your ear, "Mm, I know you're all wet for me, stepsis." Skinny fingers crawled to the edge of your underwear.

A deep pang of fear struck you, suddenly withdrawing and backing out of Aegon's amorous embrace. You shook your head, heart beating too fast, shame and guilt pounding your head in. The platinum-haired man stared in confusion, stuttering, "W-What the fuck? Are you okay? Hey!"

You shook your head, chest too tight to speak. grabbing the remnants of your debauchery you skittered out of his room, silent tears running down your face. You felt weird, you drew a line in the sand that would not wash away. With fucking Aegon. You could hit yourself.

The rest of the days he was icy. Icy all the way until he was going into rehab and further treatment. You didn't dwell on the experience until now, eyes darting towards his room. You would have to see him eventually. Passing by his door all you could hear was video game noises.

You locked the door to your room, a bit of anxiety peeping through. For the seven's sake, you were an adult now! You would be a polite sibling, Aegon was obviously sick at the time and trying to get well. He'd written you an apology from his sober living place and you wrote back a brief acceptance and gave well wishes. So it couldn't be that bad?

You'd take a nap and deal with your insane family later.

Sitting down at the dinner table, the normal-sized one, you chatted with your mother and Criston about tennis. Jason prepped some sort of penne dish with a salad. The sound of a chair being scooted back alerted everyone to another presence. It was Aegon. He murmured a quiet, "Hey. Nice to see you sis, sorry 'bout nationals."

"Thanks Aegon, how are you doing? Super proud of you."

You tried not to stare at your stepbrother but he had...changed. His hair had grown out to shoulder length and he'd put on weight. Nothing terrible, but it had to range somewhere in 50 pounds (23kg). The big sweatshirt and too-small joggers didn't quite help his case either.

"Yeah, it's not bad, ready to get back to school or do something before I go crazy."

Jason snarked, "A job is always a good idea huh?"

The awkward silence was permeated by an excited Daeron hugging you, still sweaty from soccer practice. You mock gagged and smiled at the little brother, batting him away. Criston hummed, "Dare's already started practicing at King's Landing U." You grinned, "Hell yeah! I'll come boo you when you play Oldtown!"

Things fell into a familiar rhythm besides Aegon scarfing his food up and excusing himself. Alicent called after him, "Where are you going, honey? Come visit with us." Aegon sighed, "I have a headache, sorry."

Your dad shook his dark blonde hair, rolling green eyes. He scoffed, "All Aegon does is eat and play video games. He'll be a fucking cow sooner or later."

You found yourself speaking up, "Would you rather have him chubby and sober or skinny and tweaked out Dad?"

Jason forked some pasta in his mouth, shaking his head. Criston broke the next stage of awkward silence. "Hey, he's almost at a year now. I'd never think I would see the day." Daeron nodded along. Dinner resumed to normal.

You had helped your father clean up, the conversation stunted and awkward. Lannister men had a tendency to never understand a woman, just a family thing. Some of your friends had fathers who didn't suck. Alicent tried and Criston was the occasionally cool uncle. Even if he wasn't related to any of you, just something that came along with being royal.

You spent some more time playing smash bros with Daeron, laughing and catching up after much needed time. It was late and you glanced at your phone. Marq Tarbeck had texted you back. You ignored it, yawning, "Alright Dare, I think it's time to hit the sack." His sleepy purple eyes seemed to agree as he got up, muttering about 'getting his nasty ass in the shower.'

Daeron split ways with you, going to his room nearby, and you up and across the mansion. Your room was also on the second floor- there was no way but to pass Aegon's room. Part of you wanted to check on him, it seemed like your father was hard on him. The other half said fuck it, he doesn't need to be babied. Still, you paused at his door, listening to the vague background noise of the television.

"F-fucking, god, baby," he groaned, muffled.

Your eyes widened in shock. A drawn out moan of your name made you freeze. Aegon rambled, "Knew you'd be so cute taking my dick stepsis. Gods!" His deep voice made you tremble slightly. Your imagination painted an image of Aeg spread out, fisting his cock, thickened thighs flexing. His plump lips would be extra swollen, those cute chubby cheeks blotchy.

Oh Gods. You couldn't. He was having a private moment and you stood outside his door like a weirdo. Then your phone began to ring. A loud buzzing as you frantically switched it off, fucking Tarbeck! With a pitiful whine you tried to book it away to your room.

"Get your ass back here!" came Aegon's whisper-yell.

You paused, hand over your mouth. Fucking fuck, you thought.

"C'mon, get over here, I heard you."

You dramatically groaned and shuffled to Aegon's doorway, eyes downcast, blushing heavily. A finger tilted your chin up, you reluctantly looking at his smug face. Aegon hummed, "Did you want a look-see or just to listen? You're just slumming it now huh? No Reynes or Tarbecks?"

You gritted out, "I was going to check on you, but then I heard my name. Of course I'd be curious to why you were moaning it."

Aegon rolled his eyes, scoffing, "So. Jig's up. I stole your pretty little lace panties to fuck too. Since I'm a man of honesty now."

Arousal laced up your stomach, pussy throbbing at the actual desperation this fucker was giving off. You panted a bit, shouldering him aside. Your panties were indeed on the bed, thoroughly used. Gaping at Aegon he shrugged, basking in the debauchery. Guess being sober didn't change him from being a little pervert.

You muttered, "I can't believe you."

"I tried to fuck you did I not? I remember how eager you were."

Glancing at his lidded eyes and frankly punchable face you kissed the man, gripping at his oversized sweatshirt. Aegon seemed surprised, inhaling sharply before grabbing your ass and returning the kiss with vigor. He murmured, "You aren't running away- hah- this time." He squeezed your ass hard, lips intense against yours.

Pressing yourself to his soft belly he stiffened a bit, apoligizing, "M'not very in shape, too many sweets, cock's the same." You shrugged, pulling his heavier frame atop your own, a thick thigh slotted between your sinewy legs. He groaned softly, hands pulling at your shirt impatiently.

He grunted while shucking off his sweatshirt, elbow about to take you out. You yelped and ducked, Aegon guffawing. "Sorry?" He chuckled. Shaking your head you pulled on his longer hair and resumed the earlier attentions. The blondie rudely unsnapped your bra, shoving you up the bed at the same time.

Pulling away with a snarl you exclaimed "Fucking hell are you going to manhandle me around the bed or kiss me?"

Aegon deadpanned, "Wanna see you naked. Going to do that for me this time? Nice tits by the way, I can say it's like the porno now."

You growled and shoved down your shorts and underwear, somehow turned on by his shithead attitude and stupid grin. Pointing at him you hissed, "Your turn. Those briefs looking a little tight anyways." Aegon snorted, laughing at you again while shimmying his ill-fitting briefs off. His violet eyes greedily roved over you, the shameless perv.

"Happy Lady Lannister?" He asked while gesturing to his hard cock.

"Much better, get over here."

Aegon pulled you by the legs, thick waist keeping your thighs spread, fat cock rudely shoved flush against your embarrasingly wet pussy. He pressed teasing little kisses across your throat, grasping hands all over your tits and ass. You mewled- rutting a bit against him, utterly pinned by his heavier weight.

"Gods- Aegon, you- gods!" you wheedled, shaky hands digging into his shoulders, slipping down to his plush hips and squeezing. He moaned and began to slide against your slit, eyes rolling erotically. Aegon rasped, "Been so fucking long- know you're tighter than I ever dreamed of. Little cocktease."

He took your mouth again, a possessive hand grabbing your chin, lips and tongue domineering and invasive. You were quickly becoming a puddle, whining as you tried to keep up, unable to focus as the bulbous tip of Aegon's thick cock jerked against your needy clit. Your stepbrother groaned raggedly, "Lion? Mewling kitten huh baby sis?" You whined again, jerking against him to claw at his shoulder.

"That's it, lemme see you try."

You huffed in frustration, nipping Aegon's puffy lips, trying to rut back against him. He laughed into your mouth, rough hands planting on your tits, thumbs swiping across your peaked nipples. You cried out into his warm mouth, shivering as Aegon alternated between dizzying little circles with the pad of his thumb or pinching and pulling roughly.

"Ah, mmm, fuck, fuck you, get- get a condom- oh my gods!"

Aegon groaned in annoyance. "We're literally rich, just go get a plan B."

"Get your lazy ass up and grab it!"

"Sound just like your father, gonna call me fat next?"

You stared at him, waiting. Aegon made a whole deal about heaving himself up and ungainly rolling to his side table, rifling through. "You're not even fat, sure are acting like it though, huffing about nothing," you replied. The prince returned with a condom, tearing the packet with his teeth. As he rolled it on the buffoon asked "Is it that bad? Be honest. The weight, I mean."

Alicent had made some weird fucking kids. You glanced around Aegon's body. He looked better than the last time you fooled around, actually healthy in appearence. The man took the brunt around his midsection, wide striped hips and a soft pooch. It appeared there was a slim layer of softness around his thighs, arms, and face. He seemed nervous now, that creeping insecurity.

"You look good. Healthier than being a skeleton. I don't see an issue. Maybe dress a bit snappier?"

He smirked, blushing and cursing, "Oh fuck off, I guess if you deem it alright. Let's fuck, yeah?"

You nodded with a grin, sealing your lips onto his own, wrapping your thighs around him tight. Both of you moaned as he slipped in, stretching your tight pussy out. Gods it felt good, the girth dragging against your sensitive spots. His hips stuttered a bit, hands clamping on your hips as he swore. You goaded Aeg on, digging your heels into his ass and whining his name.

Aegon pecked your mouth one more time, tucking his face into your neck, thighs heavily smacking your hips as he fucked. You yelped at the sudden movements, shivering in delight. Aegon grunted on every thrust, gasping against your neck before sinking his teeth in to grace your delicate skin.

You could do nothing but take his relentless bullying of your sensitive hole, thick tip drilling your sweet spot as he changed angles with a sharp inhale. Goosebumps littered your skin, sweat building between the pair of you. Your whines and his groans made a lurid cacophony, the slapping of flesh and the squelch of your own cunt.

Aegon panted, "Such a tight fuckin' pussy, made for me, s'good."

You arched feebly into his soft stomach, tits rubbing against his own. All you could manage was crying Aegon's name, tightening around him. You begged "Please, Aeg, touch me, touch me please, m'gonna cummm!" He growled in reflex, hips jerking particularly rough into the soft roof of your pussy.

"Yeah baby? Need your clit rubbed so you can come all over my dick? Beg some more, want you to mean it."

He slapped your thigh, smirking with lust blown pupils. Your eyebrows had knit together, the burning coil of ecstasy tightening into a ball. You just really really really needed Aegon to play with your clit. In the most embarrassing mewl you begged again. "Aeeegon, please! It fucking hurts, m'so swollen for you, please stepbrother, lemme cum, it-it'll feel so good!"

You sobbed in frustration, Aegon rumbling, "Mhm, I gotcha, needy little slut for a step sister. Fuck, you're gonna make me blow." His thumb and forefinger pinched and rubbed your flushed bundle of nerves, your stepbrother slapping a hand down on your wailing mouth. His hips stuttered, eyes rolled again as you clamped down on his twitching cock.

He babbled something, frantically swiping your nub until you released in a gush of slick, shivering from head to toe. Aegon made a gutted noise, his full weight baring down as he sloppily fucked himself out, groaning in near agony. He stiffened and whimpered your name, lips hanging agape as his cock emptied into the condom. Your pussy throbbed and twitched as you stared at the ceiling, hand in Aegon's platinum hair.

He groaned softly, "Ffffucking hell Lannister, you little demon."

Aegon groaned and slid out, laying on his back, pudgy belly heaving as he gathered some breath. You were just as limp, trying to formulate a sentence. Aegon tied off the condom and haphazardly threw it into a trash bin. You wrinkled your nose but managed to make the sluggish movements into his soft side. He was much more cuddly with the extra weight and post-orgasm haze.

Aegon wrapped a lazy arm around you, lips slightly curled up. He hummed, "You aren't going to run this time are you?"

"No. I don't think I will. We can tell Dad we're getting you lots of exercise now huh?"

"Just like the porno."

"Shut up."

[thelesbianluthor]

Chanse and Amanda noticing Angela was struggling with the nails and pointing them out as a joke and immediately saying they looked good the second Angela said she didn't like them is their dynamic in a nutshell.

The moment she was genuine about her dislike they were ready to compliment the nails, even if they are just something she doesn't like on herself.

I love them they are so silly.

Also I get Angela because I hate doing my nails I keep them very short too so I know that getting them done and doing them that long is torture for someone not used to it. She does look incredible tho I have to agree about that.

The evil stepmother nails had a great but short life

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

What is the biggest scandal Bruce and age gap!reader were involved?? I feel they are super private and it’s impossible to the press to find something juicy (unless it’s fake or planned by them). Maybe they disappeared together from a gala and then, reader’s ipstick all across Bruce lips or something like that.

Sorry if I didn't explain me well, English is not my first language.

"Oh for god's sake," Alfred huffed, turning the volume up on the TV.

"Bruce Wayne and Y/N Y/L/N spotted on a beach vacation WITHOUT his kids? Going now to an expert in family dynamics to-"

"It's their honeymoon," Dick said shuddering, "why would we WANT to be there?"

"Creepy!" Steph concurred.

Alfred pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment and consulted his watch weighing his options. There was no way that either of you were awake yet or would have seen this story.

It would irritate Bruce to no end. And it would probably if not break your heart, definitely bruise it- you weren't a wicked stepmother. Far from it, despite the children sometimes teasing you about it. (Mostly because you got mistaken for one of them). And while you had wanted the wedding to stay a secret for a while longer... well.

If this sort of thing picked up steam there'd be no end of press coverage- and none of it good. Better to make them pivot. Hard. You'd understand. At least he hoped you would.

"Master Richard, Miss Stephanie-"

"Already on it," Dick said glancing up from his phone where he was posting a congratulations and a picture from the wedding.

"Same," Steph said.

"And telling Lois, Clark, and any one else that was there to do the same. We'll get the others when they come down for breakfast. Before noon no one will even remember this morning and it'll be a baby watch instead."

"Which is still disgusting," Stephanie said, lip curling, "but at least they're not making them out to be monsters."

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Hi! I just scrolled through your blog and loved your writing, so I decided to make a request! I was wondering if you could write fem!reader x Lucifer where they're kind of just hanging out but R is kind of grumpy and Luci is subtly (but not subtly cause lord knows he's too awkward to be good at hiding things) trying to figure out what it is. R kind of just dismisses him while scrolling on their phone and Lucifer's like "let me try something..." and just slides a snack to R to which she nibbles on and then becomes normal again. Bonus points if she apologizes when she realizes she was being mean without meaning to. Anyway, this got long. If you decide not to write this, I understand. If you do, you are required to drink water and eat a snack too at some point. Love you and your writing! <3

A/N — OOOOOHHHHHHH anon I love you for requesting this 😭💖 thank you so much! It's just a little short, but I wasn't sure what else to add lol

Hangry | Lucifer x Fem!Reader

Warnings: reader being a little mean, Lucifer being loving and understanding

Word Count: 489

Summary: Luci forces you to eat something after you unintentionally snap at him.

On a couch, in a palace, in hell, there was you. Glorious you. The very one who kept Lucifer sane — his Heavenly best friend turned perfect stepmother to his beloved daughter, which was a more recent (and super awesome) development. 

He could tell just by looking at you that you weren't exactly feeling the best — it was clear by the present frown and the way your brows furrowed every once in a while, as if you were fighting something. 

For a split second, he thought you were sick. But as he placed his hands all over your face, forcing you to look away from your phone screen, he soon realized that you weren't sick.

“Sorry. . .” He mumbled when you set your darkened glare on him.

You rolled your eyes, looking back to your phone. There was important stuff going on. Meetings to be scheduled. You didn't have time for anything else. 

“Did you sleep?” Lucifer questioned not even five minutes later. 

You sighed, irritated, practically growling out your answer. “Yes.” 

“Okay. . . Well how long did you —”

“GOD! Can you give me five fucking minutes to do my job, Lucifer!?”

He was momentarily taken aback by your harsh tone,  but then it was as if a light bulb went off in his head and he stood from where he had previously planted himself in front of you. 

Guilt began to settle in your being as you nestled yourself further in the couch to continue working. You hadn't expected him to leave — just maybe stop hovering like you were going to spontaneously combust and disappear.

You knew he meant well, but you just weren't feeling it. Any of it.

Five minutes later he returned with a plate that had your favorite sandwich and bag of chips on top, snatching your phone out of your hand and replacing it with the plate and a bottle of your favorite drink. 

You growled. “Luci—” 

“Eat.” He demanded, holding your phone out of your reach. 

And you did. That first bite of the sandwich made you realize that you hadn't eaten breakfast. . . Or lunch. . . You felt better immediately, which showed him instantly what the problem had been. 

Once you finished, you sat in silence, trying to figure our what to say. . . It ended up being a ‘thank you’ that was said so low it was almost missed in the quiet room.

“You feel better?” He asked.

“Yeah. . . I'm sorry I snapped at you — I didn't mean to. . .” You trailed off when he grabbed your face in his hands and forced you to look at him. 

“I forgave you the moment you started eating. Before anything, you're my best friend, and we don't need you being hangry.” 

“Wife.” You corrected with a slight smile.

“Even better.” He grinned, placing sweet kisses all over your face — even the tip of your nose. Yeah. . . You were definitely forgiven. 

So long as you remembered to eat and stay hydrated.

[camomileapplesyrup]

my father never really behaved like one. he was violent. he beat me and my mother. he cheated on her with hookers every night, and got off on the idea of assaulting them behind my mother's back. after my 4th birthday, he up and left. from then, my childhood with him was meeting a string of women from russia, all claiming to be engaged to him. no one stayed long enough but one woman. who became my stepmother.

we didn't like each other. as a small little girl, who watched her big professor father dancing around in suits all day and then slapping my mom before storming away, i didn't have much faith in my safety with this woman. i saw an evil lady, who was corrupting my father with her evil lady ways, turning him against me to prioritise her son who she brought with her. this illusion dropped one night during an argument that lasted hours.

after hurling an array of expensive china at each other, and slamming all the doors in their big house, my stepmother sat crying in our red armchair, repeatedly murmuring things in russian i wish i would have understood. my father saw me approaching and snarled at me. something along the lines of "don't entertain the attention seeking goose. she is playing the victim." as a young 13 year old girl, the only thing i could conjure up was "well, you hit her, dad. don't you think that's why she's crying?"

whatever happened after that was a blur. he went on a tirade at me, clearly bothered by the correction. he looked like a big, puffed up toad, in my memory. croaking unintelligibly with anger and offence. but, im his daughter after all. i didn't understand a thing, i yelled back at my father, attempting to mimic his emotionless-debate-arguing.

that night i saw my real mother in her.

my real mother, in the same house, who never cowered. never ran away, or cried without a glare. my mother who made sure i saw her slap back. slap back so hard it made my father stagger against the very same doorframe i stood.

amidst my heated conversation with my father, the woman whom i hated so much, called out my name. she looked at me and choked out a sentence i'll never forget. in her thick, russian accent, she said "you are a strong young woman. never cower in front of your dad, or any man who hurts you. thank you."

it was the first and last time she ever complimented me. for the first time, we saw each other for what we truly were. two women victimised by an abusive men, who shrunk into the very thing he wanted to avoid most. two women who respected each other enough, to stand up to him. no matter how far apart our worlds were, in that moment, we became the very core of our beings and forgot everything else.

i'll never forget her defeated voice, and tear stained face. i'll never forget what she gave me that day.

[hyallulonelyhime]

Hyahime presents: That time when a jsk became an ironing board cover..

Today i'm sharing a classic from cgl many of you have definitely heard about: The ironing board fiasco. The story of a girl, her dad's fiance and many feels.

Everything started when OP shared this image and said the following:

Due to some unusual circumstances, I'm currently living in a partially-renovated house with my dad and his fiancé.

His fiancé is a very sweet lady who is very thrifty. She makes all her own clothes and and will usually find a practical use for something, rather than throw it out (i.e recycling old bottles and jars to pot plants).

I had a Baby The Stars Shine Bright Strawberry and Cherry Ruffle jumperskirt that I didn't wear anymore, so I was planning to sell it. From memory, it cost about $400.

I put it out in the main room next to a pile of clothes I planned to donate to Good Sammies, so I'd remember to take photos of it for the sale. I then went away for a week to visit my grandparents

When I came back, I noticed the pile of clothes had disappeared. Cool, my dad and/or his fiancé had donated them for me. But wait… Where was the jumperskirt?

It was then that I saw the sight portrayed in the uploaded. My dress had been cut up to to make an ironing board cover and a tablecloth. I don't know where the rest of the material is.

It appeared that my dad's fiancé had assumed the jumperskirt was part of the donation pile, and thought there was no harm in 'recycling' it for her own uses. In her efforts to pretty up the concrete-y wasteland of a house, she had unknowingly destroyed an expensive brand dress.

Literally the only thing I could do in that moment was stare blankly. I can't even be mad at her, she had no idea.

So now I have a BTSSB ironing board and table cloth.

the story immediately caught the attention of users as they scrolled. Some found it terrible, others couldn't help but laugh..

Though some were quick to say it must've been fake.

So.. did OP fake this for attention? Let's investigate.

It is very unlikely the fabric was gathered from a replica, judging by the print details and the fact that this isn't a very sought-after or popular piece you'd see everywhere.

But how did one dress result in so much fabric? Although it looks like a lot, one anon pointed this out:

But she knew she'd get the attention, right? ...yes, but I don't think anyone would come up with this specific odd way to recycle a lolita piece and make the community react.

OP responded to the questions and thoughts with the following:

At this point, some anons were pretty much just fighting over if it's okay for OP to be so calm or not. Which.. is a little bit weird. Others were more emotional about this than the victim themselves.

But what you may not know is.. there's more. There's more to the Kawaiironing fiasco.

Op comes back.

I queried the whereabouts of the remaining material and she showed me. She said my dad told her I was "throwing them out" (I have no idea where he drew that conclusion as i specifically said I was donating a bunch of clothes, so at the very least he should have assumed I was, you know, donating them), so she thought it was fine to cut up. My fault anyway, didn't separate the "sell" pile from the "donate" pile. HOWEVER… There were a few other brand dresses I was planning to sell. I assumed they had been donated with the rest of my clothes, as they were nowhere to be found. I was a little sad about that (they were valuable Angelic Pretty, BBSTB and Metamorphose), but oh well. Then I looked in her material bag and found they had also been cut up… When dad said I was "throwing THEM" out, he did not state a plural by accident… Pics to follow.

If anyone wants individual versions of those pics lemme know.

The loli gods frown upon me today for my unbecoming carelessness in handling burando.

Op decided to keep the truth a secret: ignorance is bliss, and her stepmother did not deserve to feel the guilt of ruining so much burando.. or to know that so many lolitas were in shambles knowing about her crafts.

..Although, anons said this wouldn't stop her from doing it again. Maybe she should know so she doesn't cut up even more dresses.

One thing is certain. that's a really cute ironing board cover. Maybe the fabric could become even more random burando stuff: headbows, little makeup bags, cup coasters, mats.. oven mitts?

Lolita home goods for all! we demand a cute life!(✧∀✧)/

[evita-shelby]

Promise?

For @novashelby

Tommy & adopted!daughter!reader

Gif by @ssa-kitsune1310

Even though you know you aren’t a real Shelby, it is always awful to be reminded of that fact.

No one dared to do it in front of your family, but there was always someone wishing to hurt you like that the moment they got a chance.

Many had heard the story of how Tommy found you half-starved in the street as a toddler cradling your dead mama before he left for the war and brought you home as his daughter. Most assumed he was your father in truth as it was known how often he frequented ladies of the night after Greta’s death.

But he wasn’t, you were some orphan little girl whose mother got kicked out of her home and died of exposure in a street corner begging for scraps. He loved you and named you Shelby and his family was your family since that night he found you.

You were raised a Shelby, you kept their traditions, you went to church with Polly and learned Rromani just as Finn did and now you would have a mother and a baby brother.

Your family didn’t like Grace, for what she did to Ada and for the betrayal that killed Danny Whizz-Bang that December. But she seemed nice enough, loved your father even if he didn’t seem as in love with her as he had been before she left.

Her family didn’t like you.

They called you the little bastard girl, the street urchin who should be sent away so you can’t steal Charlie’s inheritance or cause a rift in her marriage because stepmothers are replaceable, and children are not.

“They always send us away; he won’t love you anymore because you aren’t his real baby.” One of Grace’s cousins whispers to you as you eat sweets in your room away from everyone. “Daddy sent me to school because my stepmother told him too and now, he only loves her and the stupid baby because he’s the Boy. If Charlie wasn’t his baby too, she wouldn’t be able to do anything.”

You do not sleep a wink that night or those after because while Grace likes you now, you know too well what she’s capable of. Freddie would still be alive if she hadn’t called the coppers on him when Karl was born. The beatings and torture in prison gave him weak lungs after and the influenza finished the job.

It’s been some time after the wedding when you finally get the courage to ask your dad about it. He’s troubled, things with Grace aren’t what they pretend they are.

He doesn’t trust her, can’t have a real marriage or even love if there isn’t any trust, you heard Johnny Dogs’ wives say to each other while you played with their girls earlier and they whispered about them in their gossip.

And it was true, he never invites her to meetings and never confides in her like he promised when they argued yesterday about it. Your dad had raised his voice and told him he wasn’t changing his mind about something, and you knew what it was he meant even if you only heard those words.

“Daddy, are you going to send me away?” you put on your bravest face as you ask him in his office. You sit on his lap even now that you are older as you have always done even after Grace came into his life.

“No, sweetheart, whatever gave you the idea I would ever do that?” He asks concerned about it all.

“One of the girls at the party told me that when her daddy got married and had a baby with her stepmom, the stepmom sent her to a bad school, so the Boy doesn’t have any competition.” You tell him everything that troubles you and don’t even hide what you heard him say yesterday. “She said Grace would do it too because that’s what all stepmothers do in her family.”

“Y/N, no one is sending you away. I would never allow that to happen.” He smoothed your hair and quieted your fears, and yet you need more than just those words.

“Do you promise?”

“I promise, as long as we live, you will be my daughter and I will never send you away even if the King himself ordered me to.” He offers his palm, spits on it like he does with promises he will never break and you do the same as you agree.

You never leave his side, you grow up as a Shelby would and when Charlie leaves with Lizzie after Ruby’s death, you stay with him to the bitter end.

[lovehealsandlovehurts]

Bunny

dom wanda x reader 

Summary: You finally fall victim to your stepmother's charms.

Warnings: nipple play, nipple sucking, fingering, clit play, dumbification, humiliation, praise, pet names, mention of somophilia, mention of cnc, multiple mentions of a strap, forced submission (?) edging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, manipulation, aftercare, 

Word count. 3.6k

You tried to pay no attention to your new stepmother, Wanda. It was an impossible task to do considering how sweet the woman was to you. She’d always ask about your day, wanting to hear the tiny details of it, even if they seemed to be boring. Her green eyes made you feel safe and warm inside, sending shivers down your spine every time she took a closer look at you. You tried to brush your thoughts away, clinging to your morality and desire of building a healthy relationship with the woman. There were so many other girls you could’ve tried to lay your eyes on, but somehow none of them made you feel the way Wanda did. 

You sat by your desk, with your eyes glued to your computer, trying to finish homework for University. It was way past midnight, and you pushed yourself through the sleepiness trying to complete the reading before morning. You heard a short knock at the door, followed by Wanda slowly entering the room. She wore a long silky nightgown that clung to her body tight, highlighting her figure well. Her hair was long and messy, it was obvious she was either getting ready to sleep or just taking a nap. You immediately swallowed your spit, looking back at the screen, purposely shifting away your focus.  

“Yes?” you asked, trying to sound bothered, but your voice came out cracking instead. 

“I don’t like when you stay up so late, you need to rest,” she said, walking closer to you. Her voice sounded so soft, it made you want to follow her advice. Wanda made her way across the room, ending up standing behind your chair, her stomach pushing into the back of it. You felt guilty for feeling tingles in your stomach every time she commanded you to do something. 

“Well… I can make my own decisions, and I’m going to stay up late,” you said, battling through your emotions, so desperately trying to bury how you felt about her.

“I’m just looking out for you,” she said, her hands landing on your shoulders. You felt electrified under her touch, closing your eyes as you felt her rub her wrists in circles, relieving the tension in your back muscles. 

“Are you stressed honey? What’s wrong?” she asked, her tone light and caring. The way she touched you was gentle and careful.  It wasn’t often you got a back massage from anyone and you wondered if that’s why it felt so good, or perhaps because it came from her. 

“I’m… fine” you whispered, barely being able to control the sound of your voice. It sounded so weak, trembling under her touch. Wanda took her hands away, and you sighed, longing after her contact. 

A moment of silence struck the air but it didn’t feel awkward, rather had a lot of tension settling in the room. You felt her hand touch you once again, this time traveling to your chest. She gently slit her fingers from your stomach up to your hard nipples, innocently brushing against them as she moved back to your shoulders. It was so smooth that it could be easily perceived as a mistake but you knew it wasn’t. 

“Wanda” you whispered, not being able to say anything else but her name. You didn’t even want to protest, or question her, just ease yourself to her will. 

The woman didn’t say anything, she pulled up a chair closer to your desk, settling herself next to you. You thought about what she would say to you and if you’d end up having a casual night of small talk but instead, you noticed her hand traveling to your legs. She pressed the palm of her hand against your thigh, her gaze shifting from her choice of placement to your face. You started into her eyes, your look raising a million questions.

“Let me make you feel better” she whispered, her voice suddenly becoming low and raspy. You wanted to say so much but nothing came out of your mouth, you were so enthralled by her and entirely unprepared for the moment happening. 

“I-” you mouthed, looking at her face. She was so beautiful, it was impossible not to fall for her. You couldn’t think of anything at the moment but solely focus on what was in front of you and the way her hand felt pressed against your skin. 

“What do you mean?“ you managed to whisper, frowning your eyebrows.

She smiled wickedly, not believing you were so oblivious, “I’ve seen the way you look at me bunny, don’t act all shy now” she whispered, moving her hands through your thigh. She slid them between your legs, pressing against your core.

You closed your legs shut, moaning at the sensation and further trapping her hand between your thighs. This couldn't be wrong when it felt so right. Her words tingled your brain and her touch felt better than anyone who’s ever touched you. 

“Wanda... we shouldn’t, we can’t” you answered simply, even though your body grew hot under her touch. Deep down you knew her and you would never work but a part of your brain held onto your delusion, creating imaginary scenarios with her in your head.

 “What if someone will see?” you managed to add, falling into a state where your brain was barely able to think rationally.

“No one will see, just let mommy touch you okay? '' she whispered, and you followed her command, feeling your thoughts slip away. It was rare that she called herself that but at the moment, it sounded totally different, like a title she used to remind you of who was in charge. 

Her fingers moved up and down your panties, teasing you through them and making the tension between your legs unbearable. Her finger circled your clit as she watched your facial expressions change. She enjoyed seeing you hardly keep your eyes open, letting out short sighs as her wrist circled your body. Her other hand pinched your nipple, griping your boobs possessively while staring at your body. 

“You’re such a pretty girl, mommy's been thinking about you for a while” she whispered, the combination of her touching you left you no room to breathe. You felt yourself become more overstimulated by every second, realizing she hadn’t even done anything proper yet, and you were already wrapped around her finger. 

Wanda cautiously tilted your panties to the side, slipping a finger in. You whimpered, unprepared for the feeling but relieved when she finally entered you.

 “Oh-” you moaned softly, realizing how good it felt to have her finger inside of you. 

“You’re so wet” Wanda whispered proudly, slowly slipping inside your folds. 

“Did mommy make you feel like this?” she said mocking you, and you only felt yourself grow more excited, the emptiness in your brain expanding. Your mind was so full of her, becoming dizzy at her every word.

“Were you having icky thoughts about mommy before? Tell me…” she demanded, putting more strength into her moves. She wanted to know everything, your every thought, desire, your deepest fantasy, anything that included her. 

You simply nodded, your attempts at words breaking into soft sighs as you whimpered under her touch. 

“Poor baby… I’m finally here” she whispered, finally crashing your lips with hers. You kissed her back so desperately, moaning into her mouth as she fucked into you. She smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, the scent of the air fresheners she picked for the house. Her lips were plump and tasted of lipstick she must’ve worn earlier in the day and a hint of mouthwash.

Wanda quickly took her fingers out of you, pulling your panties down to get a good look at you. Her eyes admired every inch of your body, undressing you with her every stare. She placed her hand back on your clit, circling it as she moved her gaze to look at your face. 

“Mommy's been thinking about you so much… torturing herself by not touching you every day” she murmured, her fingers teasing your clit so perfectly, hitting all the right nerves.

“Do you know how crazy you make mommy feel?” she asked, her fingers moving back into you again. Wanda knew what she was doing when she asked you a question and then shocked you with her sudden movement. She enjoyed catching you off guard, breaking you, and seeing you become a mess under her will. 

You couldn’t possibly answer, being so hypnotized and far into sub-space but you wanted to, so bad. Her fingers slid into you so easily, so perfectly hitting every right spot. 

“Mommy touched herself so many times thinking about you” she whispered in your face, the words creating even a bigger mish-mash of your brain.  

“Right here when you were asleep” she admitted, her eyes shifting towards your bed as her fingers moved relentlessly out of you. “I just couldn’t help it, baby, you looked so pretty laying there, mommy got all wet watching you” she whispered, her tone making it seem like it was something so normal of her to do, even though you knew it sounded filthy, but you couldn’t help but like it. Your cheeks flushed red and you felt your clit twitch, feeling ashamed of how good the thought of that made you feel.  

“Oh, does my little girl like hearing that?“ she asked scornfully, her eyes noticing every change in your face. It was so difficult to hide anything from her, she could read your body language without any effort. “Wanna hear how mommy fucked herself while laying down next to you? whispering your name softly and hoping you wouldn’t wake up?” she said, her hand sounding louder clapping against your skin. You couldn’t say anything but nod, clenching harder around her fingers. 

“I wanted to touch you so bad,” she said, torturing you with her pace. “Perhaps I should do that next time, kiss you through your panties or shove the tip of my cock into you? I know you’d like that” she murmured, teasing you. You needed to answer, your brain filled with so many thoughts but none of them could come together to leave your mouth. “Yes…yes” you mumbled, letting your breath graze her face. 

The tension in your stomach intensified, and you could barely control what your body did. Your hips moved close to her hand, chasing her touch.

“Mommy” you whispered, realizing this the first time you used the title towards her. Her face instantly lit up, her eyes sparking with desire, it was almost like she could get off to you calling her that. 

“I need to..” you managed to say, not being able to speak full sentences. You grabbed onto her arm, burying your face in her neck and letting soft moans escape your mouth. You wanted to tell her you feel so good, and that you were close but all you felt was blood floating into your brain, preventing you from speaking more.

“I know, I know,” she said, moving some of your hair away from your face. She did so gently and carefully, caring for you like her most precious possession. Her other hand still toyed with you slowly, her fingers curling deep inside of you. 

“But you look so pretty like this bunny, mommy likes seeing you so dumb and needy,” she said, watching your face. You swallowed your spit, nodding, being so close yet so far to the edge. You wanted to be good for her so badly, but your body could barely take it anymore, your orgasm begged to be released. “Please, please” you started whispering but your voice turned to a shout mid-sentence, you felt so hot and out of control with the way she made your body feel. 

Wanda put her hand over your mouth, putting pressure against your lips as she pressed onto them. “Shh baby, I don’t want anyone to hear my little girl, only mommy gets to have that” 

she said, the pace of her movement increasing and torturing you even more. 

“Just a little more, be a good girl for mama” she whispered, by your face. She took her hand off your cheeks and started kissing them delicately. Your clit tingled at her words again, your hand grabbing her arms so desperately and pulling her close. “Mommy… please ” you whined, your voice breaking, at the edge of crying. 

“That’s it, let go for mommy” she whispered, proud of you for lasting so long.

You finally came, wrapping your arms around her neck as you moaned, feeling your thighs shake. She made you feel so brainless but in a good way, you enjoyed feeling like your body and mind were completely hers. 

She looked so satisfied, a gentle smile appearing on her face. You saw a spark of joy form in her eyes, You stared at her for a while, not being able to process how beautiful and perfect she was. 

Wanda enjoyed the moment of silence that consisted of her staring back at you and you trying to catch your breath. She then slid her fingers back into you, catching you by surprise. 

“Oh,” you whispered, barely recovering from your first orgasm. Your hips involuntarily shifted closer to her hand. She grabbed your wrist and put your fingers against your swollen clit, looking up into your eyes. She couldn’t help but find you adorable, all spread out and obedient for her.

“You’re gonna listen to what mommy says okay?” she asked softly, pressing your own hand onto your clit. 

You looked at her hypnotized, not knowing what to do. You wanted to make her feel proud again so listened to her directions carefully. You touched yourself before, but somehow when she was there your brain couldn’t think of how to do it, you weren’t sure what to do. 

“Rub it in circles like this, while mommy touches you okay?” she asked, guiding your hand and slipping her finger into your pussy. 

You nodded, moving your hand in circles as Wanda's finger moved in and out of you. You clenched your jaw tight, trying not to let your whimpers escape your mouth. The combination of her touch and yours together made your brain melt, forgetting about everything. You didn’t worry about someone catching you, or if it was wrong or right, all that mattered was the moment and how ridiculously good you felt. 

“That’s a good girl, I knew you were gonna be good for mommy,” Wanda said, wrapping her arm around you and sticking her thumb into your mouth. “You’re such a big girl… look at you… listening to mommy so well” Wanda teased, watching you toying with your clit as she relentlessly fucked into you. 

It didn’t take long before your brain felt hot again, getting high off the adrenaline and waves of pleasure hitting your body. You came so ridiculously fast, secretively wishing you could have held on for longer. 

“Did mommy tell you to stop bunny?” she asked softly, seeing that your wrist stopped moving. Her fingers still pounded in and out of you, continuing to make you feel hot and flustered. You nodded your head from side to side, feeling like you have just broken a rule, even though none were set yet. You thought about saying no but you couldn’t, seeing the satisfied look on her face. “Come on, you could do one more for mommy can’t you?”’ she asked, looking down to point out how wet you were. You whimpered, resuming your movement.  “See? my big girl,” 

she said leaning forward to kiss your lips. 

“Mommy?” you whispered, stopping once again and staring into her eyes. 

“What’s wrong baby?” she whispered, stopping her movement and looking at you with a concerned face. “Can you… do it for me?” you asked, feeling shy.  You couldn’t cum without her help, especially after being stimulated so much, you simply wanted to ask her to make you feel better. 

“Oh baby, you’re so cute,” she said, changing her position to let her other hand play with your clit. She had complete control over you, making you trust her with how cautiously she took care of you.

“Gosh you're so tight bunny, how are you gonna take mommy's cock one day?” she asked, her both hands touching you at the same time. You whined loudly, instantly wanting to protest. 

“I can, I can take it,” you said fastly and heard her shushing you. Her cheeks lifted, seeing how eager you were to answer, her smile so malicious, glad she manipulated you into being her obedient doll. “Not so loud silly,” she said, fucking into you. You thought you wouldn’t be able to cum for the third time but you felt the tension in your stomach building up again.

“Oh baby, look at the mess you’ve made” she mocked you, looking at your soaked thighs and her hand, shining in the room's light. “I think mommy's gonna have to clean you up later,” she said, looking at your face. She really was delighted to see you in a state like this. 

“Yes, please…” you whined, feeling your tummy get all hot and tense again. Nothing felt as good as her. You rolled your eyes to the back of your head and came with her fingers in you. You instantly grabbed onto her wrist, pulling it out of you and not being able to handle anything more. 

“You did so well, my baby” Wanda whispered, kissing your face all over. She gave you a moment to catch your breath and hold your face close to her neck. “Mommy’s just gonna taste you okay? Nothing more, unless you want to.” She said and you nodded, blindly believing every word that came out of her mouth. 

Wanda lowered herself down to her knees, sinking her mouth onto your swollen nub. You were glad your chair was comfortable, allowing you to lean back in it with your legs exposed. Your thighs were shaking, no matter in what position you would put them. Her mouth found your clit and you flinched, feeling her warm lips wrap around it, her saliva only making it more wet and sticky. 

“Mommy! mommy” you whined, moving your hips away, not being able to do or say anything else. You grabbed onto the armrests, gripping them tightly as Wanda violated you with her tongue.

You wanted to protest but she felt so good, once again you let her do whatever she wanted with you. Her tongue rolled around your spot, hitting all of the right nerves, occasionally making you jerk up at her touch. She sucked it so perfectly, making you clean your jaw tight, from both wanting to stay quiet and being so overwhelmed by what your body felt. 

“Mommy!” you whined, feeling your thighs shake with her mouth still latched onto you. You knew you were going to cum with you still in her mouth. She wouldn’t stop her pace, her arms held tighter to your thighs, trying to keep you in place.  You felt your muscles tense up, feeling so hot and ready to release all that tension. An orgasm ravaged your body, sensing sensations both through your lower stomach and clit. 

You arched your back and moaned loudly, putting one of your hands against your mouth, hoping it would muffle the sound. Your body felt so tingly and sensitive, completely fragile in her arms.

“Come here, baby,” Wanda said, letting go of your thighs. She got up from her knees and helped you make your way to the bed.

Wanda laid you down in the bed, caressing your face and kissing your cheeks as she placed herself underneath you.

“You did so well, my perfect girl. Come lay on top of mommy,” she said, laying down on her back and pulling you on top of her. You laid down on her chest, curling into her lap so comfortably. You wanted to worry about so many things but couldn’t when being in her presence felt so liberating. You let all your thoughts drift away, slowly easing into her touch. She made you feel safe, and loved, her little words of praise made you feel warm in your chest. 

Wanda let one of her hands stroke your hair as you saw her other one pull down on her gown, releasing one of her breasts. You moaned involuntarily, your mouth immediately watering at the thought of sucking it. Her boobs looked so pretty and perky, your mind always thought about touching them whenever Wanda didn’t wear a bra or happened to wear tight clothes.

“You can suck on it, I know you want to,” she said softly, her voice becoming low and sleepy. You didn’t even say anything, just immediately latched onto her breast, sucking it in so desperately. You put your hand on it for support, tilting it to your side as you sucked on her nipple. “That’s a good girl,” she murmured, her hand stroking your back. She held you in her arms so perfectly, you were sure there was no better place to be.  You sucked on her nipple for a while, before occasionally moving to the other one. Your hands moved so carefully, slowly pulling on her gown before putting her other nipple in your mouth. 

After some time your eyelids began to feel heavy, and you became groggy, ready to fall asleep, with your lips sucking on Wanda's breasts for comfort. She pulled a blanket over your body, making sure you weren’t cold, her mouth letting out soft hums that instantly put you to sleep.

tags: @ripofflizzie @fbisbutt @wanda-is-my-mommy @ddeulgiheree @samlovesthemoon @katiemcgrathsbitch1 @fairydxll @sadiesgf69 @aflopmop @inluvwithfictionalwomen @fabgronsky @charlizewifey @steddieloversworld @horkneeeee @waywardtrenchcoats @unpopularopinions22 @hereskittie @lovelyy-moonlight @mik3swife @marvelwomen-simp @sandyche3ks @alwaysgoodnight @ageofolsen @jlslvr @boobiluvr @lijo-8 @naslt @stranger-things-things @salvatwh0r3 @riveramorylunar @ilovehotactresses @wandasdolly @l0vrde @maiqua8 @lizziescigar @littledoll @omg-un-oso @fxckmiup @boosthater @kitesxromanova @wandasbb @sweetstargirl @ggb25 @thatdutchgirl @innocentdxll @wandascvmslut @kallieeee @inlovewithfakepeople @ddestinyy @biggest-stupidhead

if I didn't tag you it's either because you have tags off or don't have age in your bio!

[ggwritesstuff]

At Your Service

pairing: single dad!austin butler x fem!babysitter!reader

warnings: FILTH. SMUT. minors get lost. references to reader being petite i guess? breeding kink, spanking, sexually frustrated austin, dom austin, a splash of size kink, etc. reader calls aus Mr. Butler and i explode prob missing some. read at yalls own risk.

a/n: i’ve been working on this for weeks in between all my school work and i’m very proud of it. shoutout to @headfullofpresley for the title and the lovely mood board!! and for the rest of my hog cult girlies for your support and encouragement <3

tags: @eliseinmemphis @headfullofpresley @aconflagrationofmyown @woundmetender @foreverdolly @babylovepresley @purejasmine

It was only about ten o’clock when you heard the rustling of keys against the front door. You weren’t expecting Austin to be home so soon, but the exhausted sigh he let out as he kicked his shoes off at the front door told you that tonight was just another one of his unfruitful dates. His keys clattered against the marble countertop in the kitchen, you left your spot on the couch to check in with him.

“Hey, Mr. Butler,” You started. His back was turned to you as he scanned the fridge for a beer, popping the cap off with his ring and carelessly discarding it in the sink. “How was your night?” You asked meekly. He’d been going out on these dates a lot lately and you could see he was growing tired of the routine.

“I’m home at ten p.m. on a Saturday night. That’s how it went.” He huffed after taking a swig from the bottle.

“Oh.” You almost whispered. “Um, the kids have been asleep for the last hour or so. They had dinner and we got through bath time without a fuss.” You told him, trying to change the subject.

Austin pried his gaze from the beer bottle, his eyes were now fixated on you. The kitchen lights were off, but the moonlight seeping in through the window behind him illuminated his figure. You’d never noticed how beautiful his eyes were until this moment; arctic blue irises sparkled, nearly piercing you to the center of your being. “Thanks, hon.” He said. Your cheeks began to burn as his gaze never waivered.

Austin seemed like he was in a haze for a moment until he realized you were probably standing there in front of him, waiting to get paid. He frantically patted himself down and panic flashed in his eyes when he realized he didn’t have his wallet on him. “Dammit!” He nearly yelled as a heavy fist landed on the countertop. “I-I must’ve forgotten my wallet at the restaurant.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I can stop by tomorrow or something.” You assured him. He sighs again.

You realized that dating must’ve been hard for him. Once these girls hear he’s a single father of two and a young divorcee, it seems like they’re just running for the hills. Especially the girls he goes after. Most of them are around your age; freshly 21 and ready to take on the world. They didn’t want to become a stepmother. Not yet, at least.

“Sir, are you okay? I mean, is there anything I can do to help?” You asked hesitantly, slowly walking towards the counter.

Austin let a bitter scoff leave him. Silence lingered in the air for a moment as his head rested in his palms. “Unless you know anyone who’d let me use them ‘til they’re stupid, I don’t think so.”

For reasons you’ll probably have to ask a therapist about, his words made you dizzy. “You can use me, if you want.” The words came hushed, you couldn’t believe you actually said them.

You’d have to be a blind fool to ignore how beautiful Austin was. He was damn near irresistible with those gorgeous blues. Throw his soft, blonde locs and those perfectly pink lips in the mix and he’s just good enough to eat.

He set the beer on the counter and straightened himself out, a hint of a smirk played on his lips. “Darling, as much as I appreciate the offer, you’re too damn little to take the beating I have to hand out right now. Wouldn’t wanna break you.” His comment on your size made a warmth swell between your legs, you chewed on the inside of your lip as he stared you down like a predator stalks its prey.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought of it, though. I have. A lot, actually.” Austin began to ramble a bit. “Sometimes I think I’m fumbling these dates on purpose. I’ve got a pretty young thing back at home that would probably beg me to touch her, use her how I want.” He rounded the counter to make his way over to you. He towered over you, “I just don’t think she can take it.” Austin slipped a finger under your chin and tilted your head up to look at him.

“I can take it, Mr. Butler.” You said shyly, unsure of whether you were being truthful or not. He was so close to you now, you could smell the beer on his breath.

Austin took your hand into his, he marveled at just how small it felt in his hand. Your legs almost gave out when he guided your hand down to his pants and pressed your palm to his length, “Y’sure, hon? I’m not like those boys you’re used to. I just don’t know if you’d be able to handle it.” His tone almost sounded mocking.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t intimidated by his size just from palming him through his slacks, but you were already in too deep. “I’m sure. Just wanna help you. Want you to use me.” You were shocked by the words coming out of your mouth, and Austin seemed to be too. He quirked an eyebrow when he heard the last bit of your sentence and his jaw dropped a bit in surprise.

Suddenly, you had whiplash. Austin pushed you against the wall before he smashed his lips onto yours. The taste of beer lingered on his tongue and the smell of his cologne invaded your nostrils. He had one hand cradling your face, and his fingers were so long that you could feel them in your hair. It took you a moment to shake the surprise before you eventually melted into the kiss. You felt his hips grind into you slightly, and your legs nearly gave out again. Your senses were entirely overwhelmed, flooded with him.

He broke the kiss for a brief moment. “Arms around my neck.” He mumbled against your lips before connecting with them again. When you didn’t comply, he pulled away again. “I said, arms around my neck.” It finally registered that he was asking you to do something and you quickly scrambled to do so. Austin bent down a bit to grab your legs and once he picked you up, you almost instinctively wrapped them around his waist. He carted you off upstairs with such ease before he sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping you sat in his lap. The kiss resumed with the same depth of desire, and the way you were straddling his lap allowed you to really feel how hard he was. How massive he was. A shiver ran down your spine at the feeling of him pressed against you.

You kept your arms wrapped firmly around his neck for stability when he pulled his hands away to start unbuttoning his shirt, tossing it to the floor once he finally got it off. His skin was soft and warm as your hands wandered around his back, feeling the firmness of his muscles. You felt him pawing at the hem of your shirt, telling you to move your arms so he could tear it off.

Now bare chested, Austin yanked you flush against him. His chest kept your breasts trapped against him as his hands fell to your hips, using them to grind you down onto his still clothed length. The fabric of his pants caught your panties in a way that made a soft moan tumble from your lips. “Gotta keep quiet, baby, don’t wanna wake the kids.” He scolded, you simply nodded, biting down on your lip as the friction against your clit was already intensifying. Your pleasure was rudely interrupted when he flipped you onto your back and he stood upright, undoing his belt and shedding his pants. Your eyes widened at the sight of the tip of his cock just barely peeking out of the waistband of his boxers, red and leaking with precum. Austin chuckled at your reaction as he looked down at you sprawled on top of his mattress, “God, you really are a little bit of a thing, aren’t you? Never been with a girl so small. Gonna have to open you up a bit.”

In one swift movement, Austin pulled your skirt and panties off and discarded them to the floor. His hand trailed down your thigh until he reached your core, letting a slender finger swipe through your wet folds. “Really want me to use you, huh?” He questioned just before slipping two fingers into your tight, weeping pussy. You bit your lip so hard you swore you drew blood, trying to choke back a moan as your walls fluttered around his long fingers. Austin laughed, “So fuckin’ tight, god damn. Never thought the girl who takes such good care of my kids was such a slut.” He emphasized his last word, slut, with a curl of his fingers, brushing against your g-spot.

“Fuck, Mr. Butler, feels good.” You whimpered softly, staying conscious of the fact that the kids were asleep down the hall. Austin’s eyes darkened in an instant at his title. Mr. Butler. It sounded so pretty coming from your mouth, the pace at which he was pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy quickly increased. “You want me to use you? You think you’re stretched out enough to take me? Still feelin’ real tight around my fingers, baby.”

“I can take it, Mr. Butler, promise. Use me, please, want you to use me, Sir.” You babbled, overwhelmed with pleasure already.

Austin pulled his hand away despite the way your walls clamped around him in protest. He rid himself of his boxers and your heart thumped in your chest at the sight of his length. He grabbed you by the ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed, perfectly aligning the tip of his cock with your entrance. You spread your legs a little further to allow him in your space. Calves wrapped tightly around his waist, his head nudged you open and he began to sink inch by euphoric inch into you with a string of swears about how tight you were.

“Ho-fuck, I knew you’d be tight, darlin’. God, you feel like fucking heaven.” Austin grunted as he finally started to thrust into you, still moving slowly at first. “Been thinkin’ about this since I hired you. Seeing you with the kids just makes me wanna take you all for myself, split you open on my cock like a good little slut.”

His thrusts picked up in speed, you bit into his shoulder to keep your moans at bay as your nails anchored into his skin. Somehow, Austin was still forming coherent sentences. “Taking me so good, baby. You on the pill?” He asked, his face buried in the crook of your neck. With a nod, you affirmed that you were and he groaned loudly at your response, the frequency sent a vibration through you and you shivered at the feeling, “Ngh, fuck- wish you weren’t. You’d look so pretty all round with my kid.” All you could do was mewl in response. You could barely comprehend what he was saying with the way his cock was slamming into you with such a delicious force.

Austin’s gaze shifted from your face down to your abdomen and his jaw dropped at the sight. He had to stop himself from cumming right then and there as he saw his cock in your belly with each thrust. “Oh, fuck, look at that, baby.” He drawled, placing your hand over your stomach. “Feel that?” He grunted, thrusting harder, if that was even possible. Your eyes rolled back when you felt him through your stomach. “You’re doin’ so good for me. Taking me so well in this pretty little pussy. Feels so good, baby, I might just have to ruin it for everyone else but me. You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?”

“Aus-, Mr. Butler…” was all you could choke out. He surrounded you entirely, all of your senses were on fire just for him. Austin abruptly pulled out and stepped back for a moment, catching his breath just enough to speak.

“On your hands and knees, you’re getting too loud.” He ordered. “What, are you so cockdumb that you can’t hear me? I said, on your hands and knees. Don’t make me tell you again.” Austin seethed once you didn’t respond to his command.

You were grounded just enough to form a snappy response, “That is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Austin nodded slightly as he bit his lip, a sharp exhale sounded through his nose. He was caught off guard by your sudden attitude, maybe even a little pissed off.

Perhaps it was because he hadn’t been presented with anything he wanted in a long, long time. A hardworking man such as himself could rarely accept anything if he hadn’t earned it. He didn’t expect your off hand comment to incite such a strange feeling within him. All he knew was that he needed to assert himself as the strong, dominant man he is. He needed to show you that he earns his keep.

“Alright,” he said quietly, turning to his dresser and opening the top drawer. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it sure wasn’t a fucking paddle. “You wanna be a brat? I’ll treat you like a brat then.” He sat on the edge of the bed, roughly pulling you over his thigh and flipping you on your stomach effortlessly.

You were caught off guard by the first slap of the paddle and you couldn’t stop the yelp that escaped you as the searing pain radiated throughout your entire ass cheek.

“Count.” Austin demanded. Your blood was pumping so hard that it muffled your hearing, you didn’t even realize what he said until his fingers threaded themselves into your hair and harshly pulled on it, yanking your head up and looking him in the eye. “I told you to count.” He gritted through clenched teeth, accentuating his frustration with another tug at your hair when he said his last word.

“One.”

“Awh, she knows how to listen.” He cooed mockingly before delivering another smack.

“T-two.”

He placed the paddle down to use his hand to smooth against your ass, grinning to himself when he felt how hot they already were. “Still wanna be a brat, honey? I could do this all night. You look so pretty bent over my knee like this.” Austin kneaded one of your cheeks in his hand as he spoke, providing a sliver of relief before landing another smack to it, now using his hand.

“Three.” You whimpered. You felt his cock twitch against your abdomen when he saw that his hand left a mark that covered your entire cheek. You were so tiny to him, and he was certainly taking advantage of that.

Austin landed several more hits to your ass, your cheeks were tear stained and your thighs were slick by the time he decided he’d punished you enough. As if to say “truce”, he leaned down to press a kiss to the heated, stinging skin of your ass as he massaged the other cheek with his hand. “You gonna behave now?” He whispered against your skin.

“Mhm, yes, Mr. Butler, ‘m sorry.” You whimpered into the now mussed bed sheet, the fabric muffling the sound.

“Good. Hands and knees now, princess.” Austin directed, giving you one last pat on your ass to encourage you up. You gathered all the strength you possibly could and lifted yourself to your knees, leaning down on your elbows. What resembled a growl sounded from behind you as Austin drank in the view. He’s never had such a pretty, young pussy; he couldn’t get enough.

Not of the way it felt sucking his fingers in so greedily. Not of the way it glistened with the blend of your arousal and his. Especially not of the way you felt so tight and warm, wrapped up around his cock like you wanted to keep him there forever. He doesn’t think he’d be able to resist if you asked.

You winced in pain when his hand came into contact with your recently abused ass, but your focus shifted once you felt him slipping back into you from behind. He slowly sank himself inside you until he bottomed out, allowing you to fully feel the stretch. God, it burned like hell. But if this is what hell felt like, you’d spend the rest of your days as a sinner. He filled you so effortlessly, the sensation had you burying your face into his pillow to muffle your moans. You felt him lean over you as you hid your ecstasy, he pressed a kiss between your shoulders, “There’s that good girl,” he muttered against your skin. “I know, it feels so good that you just have to cry out like that. ‘S alright, baby, just muffle those pretty moans into the pillow.”

Slowly at first, Austin thrusted into you, letting you feel every inch and every vein; relishing in the way that your walls would constrict around him with every stroke of your g-spot. As muffled as they may be, he still listened closely to all the precious sounds you were making. He let them engulf him wholly. It was like the most beautiful symphony he’d ever heard; every strangled moan of his title, Mr. Butler, beckoned him closer and closer to his breaking point. Unbeknownst to you, he was still holding back. His subconscious mind knew you were small and fragile, likely easily breakable. But his restraint was fading and it was becoming evident as his thrusts picked up in speed, grabbing you by the waist tightly.

Months of pent up sexual frustration were bursting at the seams. You let Austin take what he needed from you. That’s how you found yourself face down, ass up in his bed in the first place.

He finally began putting some truth behind his thoughts spoken in desperation. Austin finally allowed himself to use you. It was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. From this angle, he was hitting spots you didn’t know existed. You didn’t even think it was possible to feel so good.

Until he hooked a toned arm around your waist, hoisting you up on your knees. You could feel his heart pounding against your back as he held you to his chest, mercilessly rutting into you. A cry of pleasure threatened to escape and you frantically tried to release Austin’s grip on your throat to bring it up to cover your mouth. “Such a good girl, stayin’ quiet for me.” He grunted between thrusts once he realized what you were trying to do, peppering the shell of your ear with kisses as he snaked a rough and calloused hand down to rub circles around your swollen clit.

Before you could even realize, your orgasm was quickly approaching. Austin actually realized it before you did and leaned in to whisper against your skin. “You close, princess? I can feel it, squeezin’ me so tight. Go ‘head and cum for me.” He punctuated his command by nipping at the skin in the nape of your neck. The warmth of his breath fanning against you was all it took for you to come undone.

You were sure you looked pathetic; frantically grabbing at Austin’s arm for purchase and barely able to keep yourself upright, all while muffling your cries of ecstasy into his hand. He wasn’t far behind you, his thrusts became more urgent; nearly insatiable until he buried his cock deep inside you one last time. With an obscene groan that you felt vibrate against your back, Austin filled you with his cum. His cock twitched, triggering a flutter of your walls that incited a moan from behind you.

Your chests heaved in time as he came down from his high. His forehead rested on your shoulder while he recovered, placing a few featherlight kisses to your back every now and then as he kept you full of him.

Austin wrapped an arm around your waist to settle you back on all fours on the bed before pulling out. A shiver ran down your spine and you whimpered as his cum quickly poured out of you, he watched as it flowed and chewed at his lower lip. He was entranced by the sight; his sweet babysitter laid all fucked out on his bed, leaking his cum.

“You alright, honey?” He checked once he could form the words. The way you simply nodded into the mattress made him laugh. “C’mon. Let’s wash up.”

Austin led you to the shower where he gently cleaned you of the sweat, spit and cum.

“Feel better now?” You joked as he rinsed you off.

Austin nodded with a gentle smile and brushed a damp strand of your hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek to hold you to his chest. “Thank you, dear. You have no idea how bad I needed that.”

“Happy to help, sir.”

And you were.

Anything to help Mr. Butler.

[annisassintchaska]

EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED: Toto Wolff x Daughter!Reader

Being the daughter of Toto Wolff has its pros and cons. one of the biggest cons being what you choose as your future career, however Y/n Wolff, his daughter never had to worry herself about being judged seeming that she already had plans of her own. From a very young age, the girl would go carting with her dad when he had time and also watch her father compete in races, winning the trophies that now decorates their home, along with her stepmother, Susie Wolff who competed for some time. Watching the two most important people in her life be so passionate about something other than family, made her realize that she wanted to be a part of it.

There were news flying around concerning a new driver joining the Williams Racing Team, preferably a woman, yet it wasn't verified until the day before the race that a faceless female would be driving in the seat. this caused chaos as fans and other F1 workers tried snooping around to figure out who it was, yet everyone was unsuccessful.

The race day has arrived, and everyone tried to get at least a small glimpse of the suspect yet no one that was seen were considered a suspect. The alleged female was spotted for the first time with her helmet over her face during the National Anthem. The drivers then got into their respective cars as they waited for the green lights. the race was going on fine as they all fought for the top positions. Y/n seeing that her uncle Lewis was at number one and struggling to keep his position due to Max being hot on his tail, she found a way to pass him and continued to defend until they crossed the finish line; Lewis in 1st place, Y/n in 2nd place and Max in 3rd place. Her engineer came on happily shouting in her ear. "Great job Y/n, you're at p2. You drove amazing today but don't think I didn't notice what you did for your uncle" he laughed at her. "Yeah, I had to defend my uncle Lew. Tell him I said congratulations and tell daddy I said hi!" Y/n shouted over the radio because the crowd was roaring over her head as she parked.

Up until this point they were still trying to figure out who the female is as Toto stared on in shock at the fact that he heard the sound of the voice of possibly his daughter through the monitors, yet he refused to believe that it was her until he saw her face after she took off the helmet and balaclava, which led the whole world into screams seeing the young girl who had just made history. Toto was in tears as Susie led him out to where his daughter was standing a few feet away from him. "Liebling?" he said loud enough that Y/n turned around and ran into his arms as they embraced while the tears flowed, and the crowd screamed. "Surprise papa!" The 18 years old cheered like an excited toddler as she pulled away from her dad's hug. "Y/n/n, I had no idea that you were interested in this, you never spoke to me about anything concerning this. What changed?" Toto asked his daughter, genuinely confused. "Nothing changed papa, I was always interested but I just didn't know how to explain it to you, so persuaded uncle Lewis to help me even though he had no idea that I was going to be joining professionally. He didn't know that it was me." Y/n explain to calm her father's racing heart.

The young girl went on to the podium celebration, shocking her uncle to tears as he didn't receive the message she had sent before and also Max who she had become friends with over time. The celebration went on as Toto watched on with pride as his daughter collected her first official trophy, he captured the moment holding it dearly to his heart of how he couldn't have been any prouder than in this moment.

[wardenparker]

The King's Queen - chapter 8

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Prince Javier of the Balearic Islands has always known that one day he would have to follow in his father's footsteps to be the caring and steadfast king that his people deserve. What he did not know is that he would be stepping into the next phase of his life alongside a woman he has never met before - and amidst a rocky sea of unusual circumstances of every kind.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 7k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: arranged marriage, age gap, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, mentions of American politics, deceased parents* Unnecessarily sexy use of a mirror, lingerie, size kink, loss of virginity, praise/worship, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex Summary: The night is finally here, and taking the next step with Javi feels even more natural than you dreamed. Notes: Welcome back to the Balearic Islands and welcome to smut time! (Gif is representative of the vibe, not of reader's appearance.)

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7

The first people to rise from the dinner table are you and Javi, which is as it should be. Everyone is finished with their meal when the king is, and you are more than happy to leave present company tonight. You take Javi’s arm with a smile and say your good nights, sparing a sly smile for Maisie and Gabriela as you go.

“That did not seem as painful as I was expecting.” Javi admits with a reassuring pat to your hand. “Your father was more restrained, I think.”

“I don’t think he expected me to ever tell him no,” you admit softly. “I wonder if he was bitching to my stepmother about me in the stables because he knew he couldn’t do it at dinner.”

“If he was, we can find out, if you wish.” He tells you with a smirk. “The stables have cameras.”

“I honestly don’t know if I want that kind of knowledge.” You admit with a shake of your head. “But please. Less talk of my father and more of us? We weren’t parted long this afternoon, but I’d like to hear about your day.”

“Not another word.” He promises, smiling at you. “Julius had me read over more agreements. Sometimes I feel like all I do is sign things. I need a stamp with my signature.”

“If you had that, then anyone could sign your name.” An idea which is alarming for several reasons. “I know it’s tedious, querido, but it is important.”

“I know.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Anyway. What did you and your ladies do this afternoon? Your first official as Princess?”

"We talked about you a little." It makes you smile as he seems so surprised by that fact. "I went over a few things with Flores and Sebastian went over my schedule for tomorrow with me after he came back from the stables. It was...fairly uneventful." All accept the conversation with Maisie and Gabriela in your closet, but of course you don't want to give away the surprise they helped you plan for him.

“That sounds lovely.” Javi tells you with a smile, nerves settling in his belly as you approach your bedroom suite. “Although tomorrow the wedding planning begins, sí?”

"Sí." The planning will begin in earnest, and there will be so much to do that it makes your head spin a bit. Or perhaps that's the nerves of anticipation for tonight. You cannot truly tell at the moment. "Would you still like me to have two dresses, mi amor?" He had said so in your first conversation about the wedding, and if it is something he truly dreams of then you will make sure it happens.

“Only if you wish.” He doesn’t want you to feel like you have to. “I just know that the traditional wedding dresses of queens are not…” he struggles to find the right words. “Party ready.”

"Maisie has already been showing me examples of designs so voluminous I would take up half the room." It does make you giggle, though, and you hug his arm. "I'll talk to the dressmaker. See what she thinks."

“Whatever you want.” He reminds you, “Catherine’s dress was gorgeous and simple lines.”

"I'm afraid I might have a more...active imagination than the Duchess of Cambridge did." The grin you aim in his direction is only slightly guilty, not mentioning that you also do not have a fussy British granny to satisfy with propriety. There is only him and you, but you won't say it like that.

“Diamond encrusted trains?” He jokes as he stops in front of your suite door. The footmen are absent and he smiles at the way Julius took his wants to heart. He knows everything inside will be perfect.

"I'm not aiming to be Marie Antoinette." Diamond encrusted trains sounds like the latest Kardashian wedding dress, and you smirk. "But I do like a classic, princess-y ballgown."

���Then that’s what you should have designed.” He smiles again, imagining your first dance in a beautiful wedding dress. “If your dress is your dream dress, just wear it all night. I want you to be happy.”

"I have an idea, and hopefully it will be workable." Not thinking of anything but being alone with him, you push open the door to your suite and gasp the moment you step inside. There are stunning bouquets of multi-colored daisies dotted with red roses on every surface. Crisp white candles of all different shapes and sizes are lit in just as many places if not more, and you could swear that an ice bucket and tray of something are sitting across the room on the coffee table in your sitting area. It's a movie-perfect moment of absolute romance if you ever saw one before and you nearly sob at the sight of it. "Javi...you...did you do all of this?"

“The staff set it all up.” He ducks his head in embarrassment, wondering if it didn’t count because he had not placed the items in your room himself. “I know that we talked about tonight and…” He takes your hand and presses it to his mouth. “You deserve romance. For it to be something you remember, hopefully very fondly.”

“It’s beautiful, mi amor.” As nervous as you have been, something about all of it slips from your shoulders in the face of this much love. In the care he has taken and the thoughtfulness of wanting to make the night a complete experience. “And not something I am ever going to forget; I can promise you that.”

"Good." The relief makes his answer whoosh out, shoulders sagging slightly and his grin one of complete pride. Despite being king, being the most powerful man in the islands, he wants your approval. Your happiness. Guiding you into the suite, the door closes behind you and he examines the room with approval. The staff had outdone themselves under Julius's guidance and he will have to thank the man. But for now, he turns towards you. "There is champagne and strawberries." He tells you with a small smirk. "Tonight is just for us, and there is no right or wrong here. Whatever you wish, nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of, Margarita." He wants you to know that he's not going to believe that you have to act a certain way or do certain things just because you are a Princess. You are a woman. One who deserves to have her every sexual desire fulfilled by the person you love. Him.

“It is for both of us, isn’t it?” Your arms slip around his waist to keep him close, feeling suddenly as though it is vitally important to be touching him at all times. Feeling as though if you let go, you may burst. “I…have a surprise for you also…though it is slightly less impressive and much less grand than all of this.”

“For me?” He’s surprised that you would do anything for him, his brows arching up. “Amor, you did not have to do anything for me.” He quickly assures you, hoping you are not panicking and making things up.

“It’s…small…” The smirk that forms on your face mostly has to do with how petite the lingerie Maisie gave you actually is. It barely covers anything at all. “But I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Anything from you I will love.” He promises, cupping your cheek gently.

“Then I think we should pour some champagne.” With the thought he put into this, it would be a shame not to sit along at the beautiful flowers and share a drink before moving forward with the night.

Delighted that you seem to like his surprise, Javi guides you over towards the champagne bucket. Pulling the bottle from the ice, he makes quick work of popping the cork and pouring two flutes. “To the beginning of our intimate journey.” He toasts.

“And the rest of our lives.” You tap your glass against his, the distinct tinkling assuring you that you’re drinking from crystal tonight.

Javi takes a sip, smiling at you and then he bends down to pick up a strawberry off the tray so he can hold it up to your lips for a bite. “Try the strawberry with this champagne.” He urges, noticing that Julius had outdone himself. There are plain strawberries and then some that are dipped in chocolate.

For all the decadent combinations you may have tried in your life, this is not one of them. It’s doubtlessly your imagination that makes the strawberry the sweetest you’ve ever tasted and the richest chocolate, too. It’s your imagination that makes the taste of the champagne around them transform, but even so you’re practically giggling with delight at the discovery of how perfect one makes the other — both enhanced tenfold when you have them together. “That’s amazing,” you hum, careful not to drip on yourself in any way whatsoever, and grinning like the lovestruck girl that you absolutely are.

The heated gaze that Javi gives you isn’t the calculated one the playboy prince might have given the object of his interest. It’s the look of a man completely in love with the woman in front of him. He hums, setting his own champagne flute down to cup your cheek. “Let me taste.” He murmurs, right before his lips descend on yours.

And all at once, there might as well not be anything else in the room — no furniture or flowers or paintings or treats — because nothing else in the entire world matters besides him. Javi licks into your mouth and you sigh for him, letting him explore you easily and remapping every inch of his mouth while your tongues dance and tangle together in earnest worship. He doesn’t move from kissing you. Content to spend the rest of his life right here with his lips on yours. Holding you close, he can feel you start to tremble in his arms.

It’s overpowering in the best way possible, and with your knees literally shaking and threatening to come out from under you, you grip his shoulders that much harder. There’s something thick and magical and true in the air between you tonight and it has you moaning softly into his kiss as you pull him closer.

Javi doesn’t want to breathe. Everything and everyone beyond the doors to this suite fade into obscurity and he tilts his head, deepening the kiss slightly.

Without being entirely sure how you got there, you can feel the wall at your back. The blanket over your senses that Javi has pushed everything else out of your awareness and you could not care less in this moment. All that matters is him — is now. The way he tilts his head and the way he grasps at your frame. The way you’ve already forgotten where you left your drinks. The way the candlelight makes both of you glow even though no eyes are open to see it.

“I love you.” He promises again as he manages to pull his mouth away from yours.

“I love you.” It can never be said enough, and his beautifully flushed cheeks and heavy eyelids make you grin unrepentantly. “More than I thought possible.”

“You will let me know if you want to stop.” It’s not a command, it’s not a question. It’s a fact in his mind. If you want to stop, you will say something. “Or if there is something you do not like.”

“And so will you.” Although you highly doubt either of you will stumble on that circumstance tonight, if he should decide his grief is still too strong, you want to make sure he knows you are willing to stop any time.

The thought of tonight had fueled him through the paperwork after your coronation ceremony. He picks up your hand and starts to kiss up your arm. "Never." He drops another kiss higher. "In." Kiss. "A." Kiss. "Million." Kiss. "Years." Kiss. "Amor." Kiss.

"Javi." Gently picking his chin up with two fingers, you press a kiss to his lips when his head is level with yours again. "Take me to bed, amor."

"I can do that." Javi isn't a virgin, but he's aware that your first time should be special. Sighing softly as he takes your hand and guides you towards the large bed that the two of you have been sharing. Now, it will be used for something more than cuddling and sleep. "Turn around, Margarita."

Doing as he asks, you shiver with your back to him. Giving him power over the situation would be scary if it was anyone else but with Javi there is only trust and anticipation. Whatever happens next, it starts with heated kisses and the feeling of his broad hands caressing your skin. "I'm going to untie your dress." Javi hums, his hand sliding over your shoulder and across your chest to where the tie is fastened. "Look across the room." He whispers in your ear. "The mirror."

"Shit Javi..." You would tell him that there is no need to seduce you. That you already want him enough to have no reservations about this. But the second you look up and find his eyes watching you in the mirror, you're mesmerized. Suddenly there are no protests, only a thick swallow of air and a soft nod of your head that tells him you will follow his instructions to the letter tonight.

"My beautiful Princess." He murmurs in your ear, smiling at the fascinated look in your eyes, the darkness in them. "I want you to see how I see you. See how wonderful you are."

"The only thing I see is you." And maybe it's cheesy, but it's true. Despite most of his body being behind you in the mirror, all you care about is watching him. His smile is shy, almost bashful as he starts to pull your dress loose. Untying it and sliding his hand underneath the material to push it off one shoulder.

Even though you went through quite a bit of gleeful planning to make sure he would have something beautiful to see under your dress, you're still nervous. Alright, you're borderline terrified. But despite that, you help his hand slide the dress away from your shoulders and force yourself to watch his reaction in the mirror – hoping that he at least likes what he sees.

“Margarita.” He breathes out your nickname in awe when the delicate, see through, pale pink lace of your lingerie is revealed. “You– you wrapped yourself up for me like a treasured gift.”

“Surprise,” you huff softly, feeling your cheeks burn at the wonder in his expression. The awe in his eyes is impossibly endearing.

“I am constantly surprised by how wonderful you are.” Now he lets the dress fall to the floor, groaning when he sees your full body in the mirror. “Te amo.”

“Te amo.” If he didn’t have you in precisely the position that he wanted in this moment, you would have whirred you around to kiss him instantly. As it is, his hands start to roam, making you gasp when he touches the most sensitive places on your skin and swallow the sighs of longing while you wait for him to touch more. “I’ve thought about this more than you might think.” He groans in your ear. “Since that first night. I had hoped this is where we would end up. Naturally.”

“And here we are.” His fingers glide down your arms to let his hands rest on your hips for a moment. “Just where we were meant to be.”

“Just where we were meant to be.” He drinks in the sight of the lingerie and he twitches in his pants. “Did you wear this on purpose or do you normally wear things like this?” He asks softly. He had always given you time to change before coming over to your room to sleep so he wasn’t aware.

“I’ve never worn anything like this before in my life,” you admit softly, feeling a little embarrassed about it but that’s overridden by how much he seems to like it. “This is just for you, amor.”

“You look beautiful.” He promises breathlessly. “But you look beautiful all the time.” His hands slowly slide over your skin, worshiping you with a gentle touch.

“You’re always so handsome…” Little touches leave you breathless tonight, the anticipation building right down to your bones. “I’ve always thought so. Since…since the first time I saw your photo.”

Javi is proud that you find him appealing. His hands continuously moving as he maps your body. Despite holding you every night, he had kept his hands in respectable places. Now, he can indulge. “You are like a goddess, an angel that tempts me and soothes me.”

Gently, almost afraid to spoil the moment, you turn carefully around in his arms and reach first for his tie. Slow, seductive, and incredibly romantic is a wonderful tempo for this night, but you want to have him on the same page as you.

Javi watches you as you start to pull his tie free. Giving you leave to do whatever you want with him. He’s yours and you are his. That is what the two of you have promised each other. “What do you want tonight, amor?”

"Just you." It's the truest answer to the easiest question he could possibly ask, and when you pull the silk tie from the collar of his shirt, you drape it carefully over your nightstand and turn back to him to take the cufflinks from his shirt before you unbutton it.

There is something poignantly intimate about being undressed. Certainly it has happened before, but this time strikes a chord inside him. The desire and love are equal in the depths of your eyes, and it makes him shudder in pleasure as your fingers graze his body had the buttons slip from their slot.

It is certainly more careful work to undress Javi, his suits always being carefully styled and meticulously tailored, but you don’t mind. It’s almost the opposite, actually. The privilege of being the one to be allowed to undress him practically makes you shiver with anticipation.

He can’t be passive. Now when you are looking like that and gazing at him like he’s Adonis. Reaching up, his hands slowly slide up your stomach, hovering just below your breasts, looking so mouthwatering in their lacy cups.

“You’re allowed to touch,” you remind him with a small laugh, wondering if he is as nervous as you are from the way he’s hovering but not quite crossing the line yet.

“That’s good, Margarita.” He hums softly. “I want to touch you, want to make you feel good.” His hands move up and cup you, groaning slightly.

As gentle as he is, that first little bit of truly intimate contact is divine as you peel his shirt away from his shoulders. He’ll have to take his hands off you to fully take it off, but you don’t want that yet. You want him to explore any way he wants…so you reach for his belt buckle with shaky hands instead.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He rasps out. “I feel lucky, undeserving of your love. Your touch.” He wants to make sure you know how much he is in awe of this moment.

“Undeserving?” No, you can’t agree with that. Instead you lean forward and press your lips to his as you slide his belt open. “Mi amor, you deserve the entire world.”

“I don’t know if that is true.” He huffs, cock hard and aching as your fingers move to the clasp of his suit pants. “You deserve a night you will never forget.”

“Then I already have everything I deserve.” Before you touch his zipper, though, you look up for one last moment of confirmation before completely undressing him. If he changes his mind at any point you will respect it, and that includes right now.

He nods quickly, knowing that he needs you to set the pace. This is your first time and he will let you have anything, do anything you want with him. “Go on, amor.”

It’s not as though you’ve never seen a man naked. And not as though you’ve never done things before. But Javi is different. He is important. He is the rest of your life. And you love him so much more than you thought would ever be possible. When you strip his pants away the pair of charcoal gray boxer briefs underneath leaves very little to the imagination, and your pussy clenches at the first glance of your hand over the front of his briefs when you pull his pants down.

“It helps.” He tells you with a small smirk. “The crown did not wish to have a camera on my pants when I was attending events.” He explains.

“So they have your pants taken out?” The realization that he has to be dressed specifically to hide how big his dick is, is a very interesting one indeed. One that has you sputtering slightly and makes your cheeks even hotter.

“Along with making sure that my penchant for not wearing underwear is kept to the family wing of the palace.” He isn’t joking, but it is amusing, remembering that conversation with his father.

“Javi.” You can’t help but laugh at that, the giggle built out of you with absolute disbelief. “You’re ridiculous, mi amor.”

“As long as you don’t believe I’m boring.” He hums, smirking at you and biting his lip when your fingers slip under the band of his boxers.

“Never.” The deep breath you take before peeling away his boxer briefs is really just for your own fortitude. Apparently, up to this point, you had only been with boys. Javi is…mouthwatering. And all over again you have no trouble believing anything you ever read about him as the playboy prince.

For his own part, Javi is nervous. Wondering what you might think of him. Hoping that he measures up to whatever expectations you have about him. He twitches slightly in the cooler air of the room, released from the confines of his briefs.

“You’re an absolute dream, mi amor,” you assure him, seeing the nerves written all over his face. Instead of going down to your knees, which is the first instinct you have, you stand up straight again and put both your arms around him, drawing him in close to be able to just hold each other for a moment and share a kiss. It’s clear you’re both anxious but eager and you let your hands map his torso and hips for a moment while you pour your reassurances into an increasingly deep kiss.

He had never known he would be so nervous when being with the woman he would marry. It’s almost as if he were a virgin himself, but the nerves melt away into the kiss and he starts slowly becoming bolder in his touch.

While the moans that he drags from your throat may have started out polite, they are definitely not anymore. They’re hungry and needy, coming from deep in your chest or even down around your belly where his cock is currently trapped between your bodies. No matter where the sound originates — it might be your toes for all you know — it shifts slightly when you start to step backward, knowing the side edge of your bed is only a few feet away.

“You wish to lay down?” He is more assertive right now, but he still checks in. Wanting to make sure you are ready to lay down.

“I think we’ll be less nervous,” you admit, even though the thought feels silly out loud. “We’re used to being in bed together.” That’s a good point. Javi guides you back to the bed and follow you as you lay down, kissing you as he kneels and crawls with you, his cock bobbing heavily between you.

Every piece of Javi’s clothing is discarded now, and you feel acutely aware of the lingerie that still hugs your finger. It’s far more than just the pinky ring left touching Javi’s finger, but it seems to be something he likes a whole lot so you’ll let him decide when it comes off.

“If I could paint, I would paint this moment.” Javi wonders, his lips against your throat and up your jaw. “Capturing it forever, mi amor.”

“This is only for you, mi amor.” One of his hands cradles your cheek and the other is slowly tracing your side, and you shift to urge it downward without rushing him. “There should be something that is just for us.”

“Oh, I did not mean that anyone would see it.” He huffs, smirking down at you in almost gentle lust. “It would be locked away where only I could view your beauty. Remember that I have a literal angel as a princess.”

“It wouldn’t be very angelic…” you hum, laying kisses along the hollow of his throat. “To let you paint me naked, mi amor.”

“I should take you to our museums.” He chuckles. “Plenty of nude angels frolicking.”

“Maybe we’ll find it inspiring?” You tease, sighing softly when his hand finds your thigh and his thumb grazes the soft skin so close to the silk and lace covering your core.

“I’m going to taste you, mi amor.” He hums as he rubs soft, enticing circles over your thigh before moving his thumb over a fraction of an inch to press against you through the lace. “I’ve imagined tasting you at least a thousand times since meeting you.”

“Javi.” His name is a bare, plaintive whisper, but that’s mostly because he’s taken your breath away about a dozen times already tonight. His sweet touches are growing bolder every moment and if you melt into the bed never to be heard from again, it will be worth every second. “Whatever you want, mi amor. I’m yours.”

“You are mine.” He groans. “Just like I am yours. And I take care of what is mine.” The little clasps of the lingerie make getting to your covered cunt easy, unhooking them to expose your folds to his hungry gaze. “Beautiful.”

It might have been fussy to get into, but Javi clearly has no problem peeling away the fabric covering those few last places on your body, and you swear that you might spontaneously combust just from the wash of hot breath over your sensitive skin. "Yours," you breathe out, watching every tiny movement. "Te amo."

“Te amo.” The sentiment, the promise, is whispered out right before his mouth descends on your most intimate places. The king gorging on his queen to be.

Instead of a shock or a jolt, you melt even further into the bed, moaning softly as your eyes flutter closed for one long moment before you pry them open again to watch everything. Javi’s mouth is bliss. Quick flicks where they feel best and long laps when that is exactly what you need. It has you twisting underneath him in no time, fingers tangling in the sheets and breath coming in needy pants.

You are so soft, so responsive to him. Giving him wordless praise as you move under his touch. Javi's touch stays soft, grip light as he lets you move your hips as you feel like you need to. Not anchoring you down, but allowing you both to drift along the bed.

Your fingers comb through his curls, not pulling or scratching but anchoring you to him in one more place. Since you’re always feeling like you could float away, an anchor seems like a good idea.

Javi has always been a giver, the love 'em and leave 'em playboy image had been crafted by the press, in their attempt to scrounge for whatever tidbits of information they could. All of his previous lovers had been bound by non-disclosure agreements, a necessity so there weren't interviews talking about the future king's prowess as a lover. If interviews had happened, they would have said that Javier was generous, slightly submissive and intimate every time he had touch one of them. Now, with you, he's even more so. Wanting his future queen to luxuriate in his arms, in his bed, to be pleased enough that you would never seek solace somewhere else.

Having had every intention of watching him as he indulges in you, his attention is too sweet. It comes in waves too strong to deny. The overwhelming pleasure has you closing your eyes and moaning softly so that it's just for his ears. It's extraordinarily indulgent and so intensely romantic that if your whole body wasn't on fire from pleasure you might be tearing up over how loving he is.

Javi hums into you, taking your sounds greedily and keeping them for himself. Memorizing how you sound, how you look this first time together.

The vibrations roll through you, every sound from his lips increasing the pleasure and caring you off on an absolute cloud. The coil in your core is starting to tighten too quickly and you know that as much as you want this to last forever, there will be so many more nights like it to come. And for that matter? This night has only begun.

Javi's fingers caress your skin, sliding over the slopes and planes, reveling in the divots and creases. Coming underneath his tongue and circling your entrance lightly.

Pants and whines come with your twisting body, back arching and eyes popping open to not only be as close to him as possible but to watch the exact moment that your body gives in to pleasure. The way his eyes have darkened with desire but never leave you gives you an extra shiver of arousal that rolls all the way through your body even as you cum.

This is moment where you are completely his. This moment. When your eyes burst open even wider than before and your entire body lurches up in pleasure as you start to come apart for him.

“Fuck, Javi!” When you can finally take a deep breath again, you comb your fingers through his hair and whimper into the candlelit night. “You’re incredible.”

He hums, deflecting the praise even as he preens. “You are incredible.” He insists. “So responsive.”

"And you're the one who gave me something to respond to." You won't let him wiggle out of accepting your praise, even if you're feeling too limp at the moment to wag a playful finger at him.

"Do you want more, my love?" He asks, softly, stroking your hip and hoping that the night will continue.

The fingers that were buried in his curls caress his cheek, and you nod eagerly. “I never want to stop,” you confess, already addicted to the way he touches you.

“Then we will never stop.” He promises, smiling indulgently. “All of our state affairs will be conducted right here in this bed.”

“That might be awkward for some of your advisors,” you laugh, loving the way he completely and totally indulges in both you and in this moment.

“Perhaps a screen between us and our visitors.” He teases, kissing up your body and smiling at the way you laugh. It’s gorgeous and completely encompassing him.

“That will solve everything.” A sage nod is bowled over by a moan as he kisses between your breasts and your head falls back on the pillows again.

“Beautiful, my beautiful queen.” He praises, tongue circling your nipple before he sucks it into his mouth.

A part of you wonders if this is how he always is with new lovers, or if he is being especially attentive and romantic because he knows what tonight is for you. The fact that he is the first and only man you'll ever be with in this way seems to make every feeling that much more heightened.

He works your tits until they are sore, aching with the attention he is lavishing on you. The small cry of pleasure you give is almost pained and it's beautiful in its pitch to his ears. Your thighs squeeze his torso and he chuckles as he kisses back up your body to your lips. "Are you ready, my love?" He asks softly, wanting to make sure you are wanting to take the next step now.

"Sí." You've been all but begging for him the entire time he's been between your legs, but at this point your mind is blank to absolutely anything else. "Please, amor. More. Por favor."

“I cannot deny you.” He promises, thankful that you do not want to stop. “Wish to give you the world, amor.” Reaching between you, his fingers wrap around his length and guide him to the position. “Now, I give you myself.”

It is a fitting tribute, considering how your world has narrowed down to only him, but the words to point it out are lost. With the slow, steady push forward, your mind fades to fuzz and your voice sticks in your throat for a moment before a deep moan cuts through the night air. Every small roll of his hips is ecstasy, filling you little by little, and you swear you’ve never felt anything as divine before in your entire life.

Javi takes his time, bracing himself over you. There's no fear of pain, no issue with the archaic bedding and taking of your virginity, but he still slowly rolls his hips forward. Wanting the feeling of taking him for the first time to be nothing but bliss for you as he kisses along your jaw.

You pant his name as he fills you, grateful not to feel any of the pinching or pain that you had heard warnings of from other girls as you grew up. The concept of virginity might be made up but there is still a very real physicality associated with it, and having an experienced partner makes all the difference. For you there is nothing but pleasure and the all-encompassing feeling of being surrounded by the man you want to give everything to.

“Beautiful.” He whispers the words into your skin. Finding the strength to hold back. With you, everything seems so smooth, organic. As if this was always meant to be, and in a way, it has. His hand slides behind your head and cradles it gently as he groans, buried completely in the warmth of your body and hopefully your heart.

"So good." With your face buried in his shoulder, you press kisses to his skin and roll your hips to adjust to the feeling of being so full.

“You are so perfect.” His tone is strained, holding back as he waits for you to be ready for more than just him inside you.

"You can move, mi amor." One more shift of your hips makes both of you moan, and you let your legs hitch up higher on his hips so he can sink that much deeper inside you. "Please move. God you feel amazing."

The kiss he gives you is tender, meant to soothe your restlessness as he draws his hips back. Groaning against your lips at how tight you feel, how right you feel. Javi isn't inexperienced, but he feels like he's never had sex before. At least not had an emotional or physical connection like this before.

There is nothing hurried tonight. No rushing. Nothing but bliss as the two of you start to move together. His hands wrap under you to hold you close, encourage your back to bend and arch into his body. Your arms come around him just as tight. Your breath comes in shallow pants. And it's perfect.

Every moan you give him is music, a note in his ear that makes him move. Worshiping you with his own body, giving you everything he has and it still isn't enough.

If there was a word more than perfect, you wish you knew what it was. You wish you could express just how extraordinary this moment feels. How right it all is. And how grateful you are that this is where life has brought the two of you. Instead, all you can see to conjure for words are gasps of his name and moaned praise with every drive of his hips.

Javi takes his time. There's no pace that he sets other than one to make sure that both of you feel everything. Languidly rocking his hips with murmured praises, and hushed gasps shared between you. Tears building up behind his eyes as he stares down at you in wonder.

“Want to— fuck, so good—try everything with you,” you manage to gasp out between moans, adoring the loving pace but wanting to experience as much as possible. Even during the first time.

"We will, amor." He promises, holding you close and giving a sharp thrust to change the tempo.

The way that has stars bursting behind your eyes is immediate and you cling to his shoulders that much more tightly with your fingernails biting into the soft flesh of his back as you moan.

You like that. Javi twitches inside you and gives you another thrust, hoping for the same reaction. Wanting you to enjoy every second you are in bed with him.

The different angle and sharper thrusts hits something different inside you. Like breath being pushed into you and out all at once. It makes your eyes burst open again before you squeeze them shut tight, trying to hold on to that sharp shot of pure pleasure.

"Is that what you like?" He murmurs in wonder. "You like it a bit faster? Harder?" He loves the way your entire body tightens under him and it's squeezing him tight. "Tell me what you need, amor."

You want to try everything, and you've told him that, but whatever he's doing now feels like a revelation. "How deep can you–" The thought is cut off with a moan. "If I – oh god – hold my legs?"

Javi leans back, pushing your leg up onto his shoulder and leans forward again. Pushing deep.

"Oh, fuck!" All at once your eyes roll back in your head and your mouth falls open. "Oh my god–so fucking good, baby."

He groans, eyes darkening with desire and love. "Want you to feel good. Want you to cum for me, amor."

Under normal circumstances you really would pride yourself on being more articulate, but every time Javi pushes his hips forward you temporarily forget how to even think, let alone speak. All you know for sure is that if he keeps doing what he's doing now, it will not take you long at all to fall apart for him again. "More," you moan out, fingernails biting half-moons in his shoulders. "You feel so good, amor."

“Give you ev-everything.” He moans, nodding as he rocks his hips and dips his head down to kiss you again. Needing the extra contact and it presses him deeper.

You gasp into his kiss, the change of angle and how deep he feels inside you making you feel like a firework about to explode. A shiver runs down your entire body that seems never to end and your core tightens with determination. When you cum for him this time it will hit you like a freight train and leave you wrecked.

His hips knock against the back of your thigh, pulling grunts out of him that he pours into you. Still holding you as tenderly as he can while he thrusts harshly.

“Javi—” The sound of his name is always sweet to your ears but right now it feels like it’s an absolute prayer. “I’m—I’m going to—oh god!”

Javi groans your name, loving that you are coming apart for him. Watching as your mouth drops open and your eyes go wide before they flutter closed.

This is your new definition of bliss. Head tossed back with Javi buried deep inside you while you fall apart at the seams, pussy clenching his cock so tightly that he loses his rhythm right along with you. Existing only with him in such a deeply intimate and personal moment is breathtaking.

His breath stutters, caught in his lung and he’s unable to think of anything but you. The grip you have on him and the way your body begs him to follow you into bliss has him giving in.

Truly you thought the feeling of fullness couldn’t be any more complete, and then he starts to cum. Painting the walls of your throbbing pussy with his seed and making you groan all over again while the two of you pant for breath and cling to each other in the collapsed heap of your bodies tangled in bedclothes. It’s the closest to whatever heaven is that you’ve ever felt in your life and you swear that if there really is such a thing as soulmates, this is what it feels like to be with yours.

Your skin is sweat slick and his own is equally damp. Making it warm and wet when he collapses against you and tucks his face into your neck. Kissing your pulse gently. "I love you." He whispers softly.

"Te amo." You turn your head to kiss him, basking in the glow of his affection and the adrenaline high that comes from sex in general. Sex with Javi is a whole other level.

"Te amo, my queen." He whispers, smiling against your lips and feeling like he is finally whole. This is what it's like. He hums in delight, hoping that this feeling never fades.

“My king.” It’s almost odd to acknowledge, having grown up your whole life in a country without a monarchy, but here he is. He is deeply loving, devoted, king, and he is your king. Loving him is as natural as breathing, especially in this moment of quiet between you.

Javi reluctantly moves, aware that you should not be pressed down by his weight for too long and he groans quietly as he pulls out of you. "Wait here, I will get something to clean you up."

“Don’t be gone long.” There’s nothing you want less than for him to leave you, but clean up is…rather important.

He smiles at you and nods before he hurries into the bathroom so he can get the cloth and slide back into your arms.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo

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My Masterlist!

[celtigxr]

The Pink Dread (Master List) - - - - - ch. v: Aegon's Doom

Chapter Summary: Aegon faces the consequences of his actions, and Valeana is caught in the crossfire.

Word Count: 3172

Sneak Peak: She furrowed her brow, “You wouldn’t dare.” “Oh, sweetling, if I’m going down, I’m taking you down with me.”

Warnings: MDNI, 18+. A little smut. A little yandere.

T H E   R E D S

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Three days and three nights passed since they had arrived at King’s Landing. It was almost like they had never left; their routine seemed to pick up exactly where it left off. Their mornings were spent in their solar, their afternoons were spent with Helaena and Alicent, and their evenings were spent as a family. They would embroider, they would gossip, they would talk of weather and of new trends. Valeana found herself in moments of recognition, as if she had lived those moments thousands of times.

“You’ve become a master of your craft, Lady Valeana,” Queen Alicent had said as she walked around her chair to watch her embroider. “You’ve done things with thread I never thought possible.”

“You flatter me, your Grace,” Valeana smiled over her shoulder, and returned to her work. It was nothing unique, nothing new; a dark purple flower that stared at her every day for the last three days when she sat down in the gardens in the exact same place, under the stone rotunda. She had a pot of ink beside her where she would dip the thread to darken in places where shadows were necessary. 

It was just the two of them there at the moment. Helaena had left to follow a butterfly that flew by, and Shyla had spotted Aegon passing by the balconies that looked over the gardens. She excused herself and hasn't been heard of since. As for her stepmother and stepsister, they were walking through the garden, likely talking of matters that would bore Valeana. 

“I heard you’re now a dressmaker,” Alicent moved around her chair and settled in her own. “I suspect there will be many balls in the following weeks, more than enough opportunities to show your skills.”

Val gave a small smile, “I made a few, but not all. If I made something new for every event, your Grace, I would never leave my quarters.”

“Hm, that is true. And I’d imagine your sisters would demand gowns of their own as well.”

Pale-haired girl gave a humourless laugh, “Oh, they already have, before we even set foot in King’s Landing. But I am not a slave, and so they must suffer with whatever seamstress mother pays for.” 

“Would it trouble you terribly if I asked you to make me a dress?”

Valeana stilled as she looked up with a stunned expression, “A-a dress? I-Of course! It would be an honour, your Grace!”

Alicent’s smile was gentle and maternal, her hand reaching out and placing it on Val’s forearm, “You are a treasure, my dear.”

“What kind of dress would you like?”

“A fortnight after the Tourney takes place, I am hosting a grand ball here in the Keep. The theme is creatures, beasts, animals, where people shall dress up as anything they choose, be it plain, magical or mythical.”

“Intriguing… My mind is already reeling at the possibilities.”

“I’m glad you approve. I suspect my husband and children will be dressed as dragons.”

“Naturally.”

“I know I am not a Targaryen, but I do not wish to appear an outlier with my own family.”

Valeana smiled gently and gave her a nod, “A dress for a dragon, then.” 

She nodded, “Exactly. A green one; I am still a Hightower.”

The younger girl couldn’t help but chuckle, “Of course, your Grace. I already have some ideas in mind. When do you want to begin?”

“We have time, of course, so when you are ready. I would like to see your ideas, and then we can browse fabrics.”

“I look forward to it, my Queen.”

This was possibly the longest conversation that Val has had with Alicent, she realized. Even as children, it was nothing but small talk, or they’d exchange words when they sat with Helaena. She wasn’t entirely certain the Queen ever liked her, especially after the incident. Aemond got lashes for it, despite his mother begging for him to be spared from the punishment. If she directed any ire onto Valeana, she was unaware of it. Before it happened, Val was always in awe of the Queen’s effortless grace. Both her and Princess Rhaenyra held beauty that felt so ethereal and unreal to her. Valeana wished she could grow up to be as poise and dignified as the Queen Consort, and as tall and proud as the Crown Princess. Alas, she was short, stocky, and the weight of her insecurities were chained on her ankles.

Before an awkward silence could settle between them after the conclusion of their conversation, Alicent was quick to get into what she actually wished to talk to Valeana about. 

“I know… I know this is a sensitive subject, my dear, but…” Alicent’s teeth ran over her bottom lip, her eyes were casted down to her hand, still on Valeana’s forearm. “I heard about what was said during supper the other day.”

Valeana turned away, back at her forgotten embroidery, “Ah.”

“Helaena told me,” the Queen added, as if naming the innocent messenger would change anything. “I do not blame you for showing some animus towards Aemond because of what happened. However, I feel that I must defend my son… He was trying. He was trying to make amends with you, Valeana. I hope you can see it.”

The younger girl raised her shoulders as she took a sharp inhale to ground herself. Her eyes were staring steadily at the flower in front of her, her embroidery loop falling onto her lap. The Queen did not know what she asked of her. She did not know the gravity of pain her son inflicted on her. 

Alicent’s hand gripped her arm slightly tighter, and she continued. 

“Please forgive him, Valeana,” her eyes flickered down, and a shadow of a benign smile appeared on the corner of her lip. “I understand that a broken leg is nothing to bat an eye at, but you’ve healed; you walk again. The evidence of accidents past–”

“I lost my foot, your Grace,” Valeana exhaled, her eyes pinched closed as she held back the words she wished she wanted to say, but couldn’t. 

‘Would Aemond forgive Lucerys? Would you allow Rhaenyra to talk to Aemond the same way?’

At Val’s spoken words, Alicent froze, the ghost of her smile gone, and her eyes wide with confusion. 

“But– you’re walking. You stand—”

In a slow and languid movement, Val removed her arm from under the Queen’s hand, and pulled up her skirts, revealing her calf, covered in a stocking. With her other hand she leaned over and knocked on the wooden appendage. 

“My foot and part of my leg was turning black; it was decaying. They had to amputate it, lest it poison my blood and kill me,” Val swallowed and then unfurled her dress over it again. 

The Queen still stared down at Valeana’s skirts, her face ashen, eyes wide, and mouth slightly parted. She had not known… No one had told her. Valeana suspected not many people in Court knew, outside perhaps the Maesters.

“It was not just my leg he had broken, either, your Grace. Aemond betrayed me – or perhaps played me. I’m not sure which. Either way, I thought we were friends all our lives, and in the final seconds of our friendship he had called me a pig and pushed me. Your son had a place in my heart once, your Grace, but that has since been severed along with my leg.”

The silence was painful, it was stifling. For once the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was at a loss for words. Her eyes migrated to the stone floor, and her lips finally closed into a thin line. 

“I am–I am sorry–”

The lump in Valeana’s throat caused her to stand up immediately, “Would you please excuse me, your Grace. I have to– I must make water.”

Alicent looked away, lips shut as she nodded. 

And swiftly, Valeana left the gardens, leaving her embroidery forgotten on the floor where her feet stood. 

T H E  G R E E N S 

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Aegon had spent the better part of the day dodging Shyla Celtigar. The days before were much the same. At first, it was amusing; Aegon loved the attention, but then it got too much, too fast.

 Well, it might have been because he encouraged her. It began when she appeared at his solar door, holding a plate of pastries and the desire to speak alone. It escalated when Aegon got the grand idea to test how far Shyla’s affections would go, and his uncontrolled desire to get his dick wet. When it involved his pleasures, he would throw caution to the wind. 

It was post nut clarity that made him realize the gravity of the situation. She was on his lap, her fingers wrapped around his member, stroking him vigorously and eagerly, and speaking to him the entire time. He wasn’t paying attention, though. His eyes were shut, his nose pointing to the ceiling as he craned his neck back against the chair. Aegon’s mind was concentrating on pale hair, wide hips, green eyes, and a pair of perfect tits. 

“Oh, I cannot wait to have your children, my Prince.”

When the height of his orgasm left him, he opened his eyes to see Shyla (not her) staring at him. Her hands were coated in his seed, and she was looking at it as if she had discovered a precious gem in a stone.

Damn his cock. It so often replaced his head in the worst possible moments. When Aemond was out fending for his life against their nephews and cousins at Driftmark, Aegon had decided to ignore the screams and dragon’s roar he heard outside his window, because he was already balls deep in a serving wench he met at his aunt’s funeral. 

This was possibly much worse than that, because now he was the victim. There were nary a place for him to hide in the Red Keep where Shyla Celtigar couldn’t reach him. White cloaks betrayed his location after she batted her long lashes and asked in the sweetest voices, or a Maester or Septa who did not know better would point out the corner that he disappeared behind. Aemond, of course, was far too eager to help Shyla find Aegon, even so much as leading the girl right into the small kitchen he was hiding in. 

Fucking Aemond… A traitorous cur, that one. So eager to put his brother under the horse’s hooves when given the opportunity. If only he could crack his marble exterior…

At the moment, Aegon was hiding in a closet of some kind. It was narrow, cluttered with brooms, mops and buckets, and vaguely smelled of vinegar and soap. He heard the sound of swiftly approaching feet, but that was all. He had learned Shyla’s footsteps when they approached, and made note of the noises she would give. She always had her mouth open, and breathed through it loudly. Every once in a while she would talk to herself, or call out his name.

The steps that approached sounded feminine, at least. 

Aegon slowly pushed open the door, poking his head out to peer cautiously down the corridor one way, and then turned to look the other way. 

“Aegon?” Valeana stood behind him, frozen in place, looking at him incredulously. “What are you–”

Aegon had been startled to see her in an otherwise empty corridor, but then when he heard the pitter-patter of another approaching, he shushed her and clamped a hand over her mouth to listen closely. 

“Excuse me, Ser, but have you seen Prince Aegon?” Eyes turning into saucers and panic gripping his throat, Aegon yanked the confused Valeana into the closet with him, keeping his hand firmly over her mouth. Valeana struggled against his hold, curses vibrating against his palm. Aegon pushed his weight on her, eyes wide and pleading, and mouth hiss whispering to her to be quiet.

Shyla’s feet scurried by the door, the shadow of her form could be seen through the crack underneath.

“Aegon~” Shyla sang, “Where are you? Where are you, where are you, my love?”

Aegon looked over at Valeana. She raised an eyebrow at him.

As Shyla walked by the door, Aegon’s muscles relaxed. Her voice and footsteps could still be heard, but he felt safe enough to slowly pull down his hand from Val’s mouth. When he did, he was taken back by the smug look she had on. 

“So when’s the wedding?” 

He scowled, “Never, if the Gods are kind.”

“Did you tell her that?” Val crossed her arms, pushing herself up against the wall, as far away from his body as possible. Should anyone open the door, her virtue would be compromised. It would save her from a prolonged courtship with strangers, but she did not want to be chained to Aegon Targaryen, the self proclaimed dragoncock. 

“No,” the tips of his ears burned, “If I reject her, I fear she may castrate me.” 

“Oh, she’d make your cock explode like a sausage on a spit,” Valeana nodded casually, and Aegon stepped away from her in horror and disgust. “My brother had a steward once, Jon, I believe his name was. He rejected her advances quite harshly, and a sennight later, he disappeared.”

“Gods, your sister is a lunatic–”

“It is men who make her loony,” Val then sharply prodded the prince on the shoulder, “What did you do, Aegon?”

He rubbed his shoulder, “I didn’t do– Ow! Stop doing that, I am your prince, I can have your finger chopped off!”

“I already suffered at the expense of my leg at the hands of another Targaryen Prince, do you think I care if I lose a finger–” she jabbed him again, rougher this time. “Now, what in the Seven Hells did you do?”

She was going to jab again, but he swatted her hand away, “Mother’s Tits, alright, woman.” He tossed his hair back, and looked away from her. His adam's apple bobbed before he spoke, “I, uh, might have let her… Pet my dragon.”

Valeana squinted at him, “You let her touch Sunfyre?”

Aegon rolled his eyes and sunk his shoulders in exasperation, “No, I– let her pet my dragon.” He emphasized the words by gesturing towards his crotch. 

“Oh-Oh, Aegon! ‘The fuck is wrong with you!” She slapped him upside the head. 

“Stop hitting me!”

“I’ll hit you as much as you want, you vile, perverted–” they both ended up swatting each other for a few minutes before more footsteps interrupted their squabble.

“Sh! Sh! Sh!” Aegon put his finger to her lips, and they both froze as the heavy footsteps of a guard walked by the closet. Once it disappeared, Aegon pulled his hand away, and at the same time Val’s fist landed on his shoulder. 

“Ah, fuck, woman! Hitting a prince is treason!”

She pointed a finger at him, and he flinched, “You defiled my innocent sister, you deserve more!”

“Innocent?!” He scoffed, “She knew exactly what she was doing. She held my cock like an expert, your sister–” This time, Aegon caught her with his larger hand wrapped around her wrist. He gave her a warning glare, “Your sister took advantage of me.”

“Do you really think I am going to believe that bullshit?!” She twisted her arm, trying to pull it from his grasp, but his vice grip was much stronger than she’d imagined. “Let go of me, Aegon.” 

“I’ll let you go if you promise not to hit me.”

She calmed for a moment, sighing through her nose and closed her eyes. Aegon was nearly about to loosen his grip, but her other hand came out of nowhere and slapped him across the cheek. It did not nearly hurt as the punch, given it was not her dominant hand, but it was enough to turn his head and take him off guard. But before she could hit him again, he grabbed her other wrist with his free hand and pushed her against the wall, crossing her arms against her chest. 

“Your sister is mad,” Aegon stated while Val tried to push against him, but he put his entire weight on her. Standing a head taller than her, his form was a tower and she had no choice but to crane her neck up at him. The prince found he quite liked this angle, this position. “Do me the favour of diverting her attention away, and I will owe you.”

“I do not need any favour from you, Egg.” 

He smiled, grinned, bared his teeth. 

“Glad to see we’re on a pet-name basis now, my little crab cake. Y’know, this is quite the compromising position. If your sister  finds us like this, what do you think she’ll do… to you?”

She furrowed her brow, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, sweetling, if I’m going down, I’m taking you down with me.”

Valeana glared at him, resolute in her stubborn silence. Aegon didn’t waver his stare, but he did move his middle closer to hers until their stomachs were flushed against each other. Val’s face twisted and she tried to wiggle her arms free, but she was stuck between a wall and a dragon. 

“Do you hear that,” Aegon’s eyes lifted towards the door, “I think I hear her footsteps coming this way." 

“You’re bluffing.”

He grinned wider, then feigned a moan, “Oh~ my Lady V–” 

“Shhhhtttt—” Valeana hissed in a panic, waving her useless fingers under his grasp, “Fine! Fine! I’ll help you!”

Chuckling softly, Aegon pulled himself off, “That’s what I thought.” He tilted his head at her as she tried to collect herself. Her chest was heaving, and that was when he realized just how close he was to her chest. Her heavy, soft, peachy mounds… His tongue flicked out over his bottom lip. The Prince quickly ripped his eyes away from her before his cock could take control of his mind again. “Now–”

He was cut off by the distinct voice of Shyla, causing the two of them to catch each other’s panicked eye. 

“You say you heard it coming from here?” Shyla’s voice was just beyond the door. 

Aegon spun around, trying to find a place for them to hide in the closet, but there was nothing large enough for them to find cover. Except for…

 Aegon looked down at Valeana’s dress. 

“What are you–” She started to kick Aegon away from her, but he grabbed her leg as he crawled under her skirts. 

“Shut up! Don’t move, and stand still!”

Valeana had no choice, because the door was opening. She stood rigidly still, trying to take up as much space as possible to hide Aegon’s legs that were poking from underneath her dress from behind. Flushed and out of breath, Valeana attempted to appear casual in the servant’s closet when the door swung out and revealed the confused face of her sister. 

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad 

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

In My Sister’s Place (Part 1 of 2)

Based on this request:  Is it possible for me to ask for a Jareth fic? Reader is Sarah and Toby’s older sister (she was on a date that ended badly so that’s why she wasn’t the one babysitting that night) and insists on running the labyrinth in Sarah’s place. Jareth agrees. You can decide if reader chooses to leave or to stay once she’s done running the labyrinth.

Here you are, lovely! *Familiar Characters are NEVER mine!*

Fandom: Labyrinth

Warnings: Mentions of bad dates, poor step-parenting, and the beginning events of the movie. This is part 1 of 2 as it was getting too long for only one part!

Pairings/Characters: Eventual!Jareth the Goblin King x fem!reader, Sarah , Toby

You let out a sigh as you opened the front door. You could hear Merlin barking from the shed. Your stepmother must have made Sarah put him there. Heaven forbid anything make her gleaming-white floors dirty. Maybe that wasn't fair. You were in a bad mood after all. Your date had been awful.

         From a young age, you'd dreamed of the kind of partner you'd read about in story books. The type of men that were in the plays your late mother had acted in. A hero. A knight. A king. A lover. Needless to say, your standards were probably too high but you were determined to get as close to that kind of man that you could. That lead to many uninteresting dates. Not that they were all "bad" people, per say. They just weren't what you were looking for.

         You were pulled from your pity party by the sound of crying. Clearly, your dad and stepmother had made Sarah babysit again. Now you felt bad. Sarah shouldn't be responsible for an infant and if you hadn't gone out on what turned out to be a horrible date, she wouldn't be.

         "Sarah? Everything okay?" you called out as you made your way up the stairs. Instead of an answer, you were greeted with more crying. You weren't surprised. Sarah was never any good at calming Toby. When you reached the landing, you found Sarah leaving the room Toby slept in. Before you could greet her, you heard her say, "I wish the goblins really would come and take you away." With that, she closed to the door to head back to her own room.

         "Sarah!" you cried as Toby's own crying suddenly stopped. Sarah met your gaze for a moment in confusion. You both ran, nearly knocking each other down, and opened the door again only to find Toby missing from his crib. "Sarah, what have you done?" you whispered as lightening flashed once more. You approached the crib slowly. Definitely no Toby.

         Before you could speak again, you heard what sounded like giggles and small feet running. Toby couldn't pull himself out of the crib so it wasn't him. And if it wasn't Toby, who was it? You jumped when you heard something smack against the window. Sarah's gaze kept darting around the room, but yours was drawn to the white owl at the window, trying desperately to get in.

         Another strike of lightening and a gust of wind made you jump. The window practically flew open and the owl darted in, flying into both your and Sarah's faces. Sarah let out a scream as the owl backed off. The next thing you knew, standing where the owl had been, was…well, he looked like a man, but you knew he was something more. You knew exactly who he was, but it was Sarah who voiced your thoughts.

         "You're him, aren't you? You're the Goblin King." You stared, drawn into the beauty that stood before you. You really needed to snap out of it. He had your brother and you needed to protect Toby and Sarah. "Please. I want my brother back. Where is he?"

         "You know very well where he is," the Goblin King responded, his voice sending shivers through you. "Please, bring him back," you managed to say. His eyes shifted to you and he regarded you closely for a moment. "What's said is said."

         "But I didn't mean it!" Sarah protested. "Oh you didn't?" he asked, taunting the younger girl.  "Please, bring Toby back," you finally spoke up and that was when the Goblin King's eyes met yours. In an instant you saw a dozen emotions pass over his face. "There is only one way to bring the baby back. She," he stated, pointing to Sarah, "Must run my labyrinth."

         "I'll do it," you declared, "If the stories are true, then surely you can bend the labyrinth to your will and make it difficult for me." He arched a brow before looking between you and Sarah for a moment. He moved behind you and pointed out. "Do you know what that is?" he asked. Before your eyes, the night outside your window changed into something else. Something that should have been terrifying but instead filled you with excitement.

         "The castle beyond the Goblin City," you replied. The Goblin King nodded and you felt him move closer to you. "You have thirteen hours to best my labyrinth. Should you win, I will let you and the baby go. If you lose, Toby shall remain here, as a goblin." You nodded.

         "Turn back, Y/N. Before it's too late," he told you as he backed away. "I can't," you whispered and glanced at him over your shoulder. He frowned a bit. "You cannot win." You smiled. "I have to try." His tall form began to fade away. "Wait! What is your name?" you asked, earning a surprised look from the king that quickly became a smirk. "Best my labyrinth and I may tell you." You huffed as he disappeared. With a sigh, you began the long trek to the castle.

(a/n: I hope you like it! Part 2 will be posted after the 2nd part of “Deduce Me”)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard​ @supernatural4life2022​

[royalwhumpness]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice - Reimagined [Fanfic]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice didn’t quite live up to my expectations. I was disappointed by some of the creative choices, particularly in how certain characters were portrayed and the story direction. This fic is my re-imagining of the movie, reflecting how I feel the characters and story could have been better developed. ’ve removed the fiancée/manager character entirely. I found him unnecessary, and his execution felt lacking. The overuse of mental health terms to villainize him and, by extension, the mental health movement, struck me as lazy and problematic. While his manipulative nature was meant to control Lydia, there was no positive representation to counterbalance his portrayal, leaving the audience with little context for his misuse. Instead, these issues were treated as punchlines, which, in my opinion, trivialized the subject matter. In my version, Betelgeuse’s ex is introduced more subtly, with hints of her greater role as the main antagonist in a potential third installment: Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetljuice. Her character was completely underutilized in the film, and I felt she was given one of the most anticlimactic ends for any villain. Bob is not in this story. I’ve slightly re-imagined the detective, a character with a lot of untapped potential. On the other hand, Jeremy was the standout character for me and should have been the central antagonist. I’ve developed his relationship with Astrid more deeply, creating a stronger emotional impact leading up to his betrayal. Astrid, in my version, is a more realistic teenager—not the stereotypical brat she was in the movie. She and Lydia have a complex relationship, which, while strained, is more balanced. (Let’s not forget that Lydia herself was once a moody, gothic teen. She had personality, moped around, and resented her stepmother, but her characterization felt more nuanced and authentic than Astrid’s does here.) I was also disappointed by Delia’s treatment in the sequel—she felt like a mere caricature of her original self, and I believe she deserved much more. As for Betelgeuse, he went from being an outcast in the first film—someone you were warned against—to having an office and a legitimate business? That felt completely out of place. Much like Delia, he seemed like a caricature of his former self, and he’s significantly overpowered in this version. I’ve returned him to the chaotic, outcast anti-hero we all know. If you enjoyed the movie, that’s great—everyone has different tastes, and I respect that. But I hope you’ll give this version a chance and maybe find something to enjoy here too. If, like me, you were left wanting more from the sequel, perhaps this re-imagining will help scratch that itch. It’s been a cathartic project for me, and I hope you enjoy the read.

You can visit my AO3 if you'd like instead of reading here! Kudos would be much appreciated <3

PART ONE

“I can’t believe he survived that crash,” Lydia said, kneeling beside Delia and her daughter Astrid in front of her father’s gravestone. His likeness was etched into a chunk of stone shaped like a shark’s fin. Under the portrait, the inscription read:

Charles Deetz Husband, Father, Grandfather Peace Embraces the Dead Ones 1946-2024.

“Yes, well, I can’t believe that dreadful shark has his head in its belly.” Delia replied wryly, dabbing her eyes with a black handkerchief.

Silence hung in the air until Delia broke it with a sharp, ill-timed squawk: “Welp!” She slapped her knees and stood up abruptly. “Time to sell the house.” Lydia’s mouth fell open as Delia walked away, and after a brief moment of shock, she scrambled to chase after her. “Sell? Wha-why? You can’t, I-“ Lydia stammered. Delia silenced her with a raised, gloved hand. “Lydia, I’ve tried dressing this house in as much metaphorical gold as possible, but it’s still painfully clear that it is shit.” She lowered her hand, “I only stayed because your father loved it, but now I can finally rid myself of its stench. Not to mention that it is now an ugly reminder that my husband is no longer here.” With that, she stormed off, leaving Lydia frozen, watching her retreat. Every fragment of her life she held dear seemed to slip through her fingers, and with each heartbreak, the weight of grief grew heavier. She started bracing herself beneath the looming shadow of yet another impending loss.

Astrid came to stand beside her mom, gently placing a hand on her arm. Lydia glanced down at her daughter, and for a moment, she marveled at the beauty she had brought into the world. She saw herself in Astrid’s smile, but her inky black eyes, high and rounded cheekbones, and even her cute, small ears were all her father’s. At 15, Astrid had endured more than her fair share of losses. For years now, it had been just her and Lydia. Before she turned four, her grandparents had been a constant presence, always nearby. Then one day, with arms full of suitcases, they drove off, their car shrinking into the bright summer horizon. Only her grandfather reappeared from time to time, sitting with her to watch the birds while her mother tended to grieving clients. And instead of growing up surrounded by the warm, steadfast presence of her father, Astrid and Lydia had to confront his absence, mourning him when she was barely seven. Lydia placed her hand gently over Astrid’s. “I’m not going to let her sell the house.” Astrid remained silent, but she didn’t need to say anything. Astrid had never shown any affection for the house or its bygone charm. She had never known its vibrant, ghost-filled days. The town was small, and Astrid had eagerly accepted the chance to go to boarding school when she started her freshman year. To Astrid, this place, steeped in Lydia’s memories, was just a house. Instead, Astrid extended a soft, comforting smile before quietly following Delia’s path.

A little while later, Lydia found Delia in Charles’ office, researching how to list the house for sale and how soon after a death it could be done. “Delia, you don’t even live here anymore. I live here, and Astrid lives here. Doesn’t that mean something?” Without looking up from her screen, Delia replied, “You live here. Astrid goes to boarding school.” Lydia just stared. Where there should have been a beating, pulsing red glob of muscle in Delia’s chest, Lydia saw a yawning, gaping void. She watched as it seemed to draw in and distort the light around it, bending and warping everything towards its dark, insatiable center. Noticing the silence, Delia looked up. “Why are you so determined to stay? The Maitlands have moved on, Astrid is rarely home, and your ex-husband and father are both gone. I don’t see-“ She paused, her gaze meeting Lydia’s. The expression on Lydia’s face made her feel foolish. “I’m making an ass of myself, aren’t I?” Lydia responded with a slow, exaggerated nod, her eyes widening and lips pursed as if to underscore the obviousness of the answer. “I have a business here,” Lydia said quietly, “and memories.” Delia’s face softened. Lydia could see that her usual scowl had melted into something of a motherly expression of genuine compassion and sympathy. “Oh, Lydia.” She rose from her chair and approached her, reaching out to gently touch her face. “We’ve never really gotten along, have we? But you’re still my daughter, and we only have each other now.” “Then why are you uprooting my whole life right now?” Delia had no answer. She hadn’t lived in the house for over a decade. She and Charles had bought a condo in New York, allowing her to pursue her artistic endeavors and escape the ghost house. Charles would often travel back and forth, spending months at a time with Lydia and Astrid to indulge in his seasonal bird watching hobby. Meanwhile, Lydia remained behind, raising Astrid, supporting the house with her psychic business, and keeping Charles company during his visits.

“Alright,” Delia began, “I’m going to wait. But I still intend to sell the house.” Lydia started to interrupt, but Delia raised the same gloved hand to silence her. “I’m going to sell it eventually. But I’m not doing this out of spite. I want you to have the chance to move on, Lydia. I’m giving you a year.” Lydia sighed, lowering her gaze. A year might as well have been next week. The pause stretched long. An overwhelming urge to argue or plead spread through her bones and soaked into her throat, but she swallowed it down, managing a quiet, “Thank you,” paired with a soft, sullen smile. Delia’s expression brightened, and she gave Lydia’s nose a playful boop before leaving the office.

Astrid found her mom sulking on the couch, playing with her wedding ring. “You haven’t worn that in forever,” she said, sitting beside her and resting her head on her shoulder. Lydia returned the gesture, gently resting her own head on Astrid’s. She showed Astrid the ring and the inscription inside: ‘I will be with you, always.’ “Why can’t you see him, Mom?” Astrid asked softly. “I wish I knew, Astrid. Why can’t you?” Astrid lifted her head abruptly and shifted towards the edge of the couch, as if preparing to leave. Lydia, sensing Astrid’s frustration, said, “You can see them.” “So you say, but I have never seen one.” “You saw one when…“ “That I remember,” Astrid interrupted, cutting Lydia off before she could remind her, yet again, of the ghost she saw when she was four. It had been just over ten years since then, and she hadn’t seen one since.

“I’m going to ride my bike around town. I’ll see you later.” Astrid said. Lydia reached out to lovingly rub Astrid’s back before she left. “Okay. Be safe.” Astrid gave a slight smile and stood up. She often felt frustrated whenever her mom brought up her ability, or inability, to see ghosts. Thoughts swirled in her mind: Why can’t I see them? Am I not good enough? Are they even real? Would my mom really lie about something like this? She found it best to distance herself in these moments to avoid lashing out at her.

It had happened once before. Lydia was attempting to teach Astrid how to see ghosts, despite not fully understanding her own abilities. Frustrated by her failures regardless of her mother’s guidance, Astrid snapped. She accused her mother of being a fraud, claiming her psychic abilities were fake and that her business cheated clients out of their money. Astrid instantly regretted her harsh words. Though she didn’t see her mother’s reaction, she sensed it— the subtle shift—and prepared herself for what felt like the beginning of a strained relationship. It became routine then that at the first sign of rising anger or frustration, Astrid would remove herself from the situation to avoid confronting it altogether.

Astrid walked out the front door without a backward glance. Lately, her words had grown fewer, the once-eager stories about her day fading into silence. She barely met Lydia’s eyes anymore, and though small gestures of affection remained, the growing distance was unmistakable. Lydia’s heart ached as she watched her daughter go. Rising from the couch, she looked around the empty house. It was now haunted not by spirits, but by the echoes of a time when it was alive with the Maitlands’ presence and her family’s warm company. Longing to reclaim those cherished moments, she wandered through the house. Her eyes settled on her room, and a deep wave of sentimentality washed over her. An irresistible pull drew her toward the attic, driven by a quiet hope that revisiting the past might help her reconnect with what had been lost.

In her room, Lydia pulled out a small drawer from her jewelry box and carefully took out the old, familiar skeleton key. She smiled at it wistfully before heading for the attic. The stairs were draped in cobwebs and spider silk, hinting at years of neglect. Lydia unlocked the attic door and, after a struggle to unstick it, pushed it open and stepped inside. Waves of familiarity and longing enveloped her. Everything was covered in thick sheets and layers upon layers of dust undisturbed on top. It was clear that neither Lydia nor any other Deetz had ventured into this attic in years. She pulled the sheet off the town model and flicked on the switch. The model illuminated, instantly rekindling its old charm and wonder. Lydia leaned on the table, taking in the intricate details of the small buildings she hadn’t seen since before Astrid was born.

“Oh, I miss you so much,” Lydia said with a sigh. “I wish you had never moved on. We could have stayed a family, even in death.” She spoke aloud with the same reverence and cadence as one might when addressing an unseen deity. Speaking with the departed had always come easily to her—unless they had crossed beyond the reach of the afterlife. At that point, she was merely talking to herself. She knew they couldn’t hear her, but she needed to talk to them anyway. She lowered her head. “Why did you leave me?” She poked absentmindedly at a red toy car in a miniature driveway. “I wish you could have met Astrid. She would have loved you both.” She saw visions of Astrid coming home with her class drawings, eagerly showing them off to the Maitlands. She wanted Astrid to experience the joy she felt when they used their silly ghost powers. “You barely knew Richard before you were given your ticket to the Ethereal Express. Gone forever. And now Richard is gone, too. I can’t even see his spirit. My father is gone, my daughter is unreachable, and Delia is going to sell the house.” Lydia rested her head lightly on the table. She could feel the emotions bubbling up in her eyes, but she wasn’t willing to cry just yet.

She straightened up, sniffling back her tears and swallowing the sob in her throat. She lingered for a moment in silence, watching the dust particles swirl around the model town. Her gaze, initially soft, allowing herself to be at ease watching everything blur, suddenly sharpened. A vivid neon red light flickered on in the model, casting eerie patterns across her face. A soundless gasp escaped her as she saw Betelgeuse’s gravestone had materialized, and above it, a marquee sign surrounded by bulbs flashing in a captivating chase illuminated the words: "I'm still here, Lydia." Panicked, Lydia yanked a sheet over the model, turned off the lights, and rushed out of the attic, locking the door behind her before bolting down the stairs.

[vodika-vibes]

congrats on 650!!!!! could I get a regency AU with Fives? I've been obsessssedddd with bridgerton lately and why not smash my two favorite things rn together! you can do whatever you want with the story!

Let's Fly

Summary: After the untimely deaths of your father and older brother, you find yourself living in a home that is both cold and unwelcoming. Convinced that your father and brother were murdered, you reach out for help. This is how you meet Private Investigator Fives.

Pairing: Pre-ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader

Word Count: 1923

Warnings: None

Prompt: Regency AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, when you said Regency AU, you definitely meant Murder Mystery a la Sherlock Holmes right? Because that's what this is. Anyway, this does end on a cliffhanger, it gives me something to come back to if I feel like it, and it lets the readers decide what they want to happen. I hope you like it! The name came from the song I was listening to when I started writing it.

“I am very sorry about your husband and stepson, Lady Harride.” Father Paul says as he takes your stepmother’s hands in his own, trying to offer comfort.

“Thank you, Father.” Your stepmother, Cassandra Harride, says quietly. She hasn’t cried once since the deaths of your father or brother at the beginning of the week.

You know that people grieve differently, but you’re pretty sure she’s not grieving at all. 

Not that you’re crying either. You’ve long since run out of tears. 

You don’t look at your stepmother or Father Paul as they speak next to you. No, you keep your gaze locked on the identical coffins at the front of the church. Coffins identical to the one that you buried your mother in three years ago.

You can’t help but wonder if you’ll be buried in an identical coffin too.

“Mistress Harride,” Father Paul kneels at your feet, and you slowly turn your gaze to the man who’s watched you grow up, “I am so sorry for your loss.”

You feel numb. Numb and empty.

“Thank you, Father.” You say automatically.

“If either of you need anything,” He continues as he looks from you to your stepmother, and then back again, “Please, don’t be afraid to let the church know. We are here for you.”

“Thank you, Father. I’ll let you know.” Your stepmother says politely, “Are you ready to go?” She asks as she lightly touches your shoulder.

You’re quiet for a moment, and then slowly get to your feet, “Yes. I suppose there’s nothing left here for me.”

Father Paul stands as well, “Will we see you both this weekend?”

“Of course, Father. We wouldn’t miss it.” Your stepmother says quietly, “Excuse us.”

She leads you through the church, and then out to where the family carriage is waiting. The footman helps her into the carriage first, and then you, and shuts the door with a very final-sounding click.

“That was a very nice service,” Cassandra notes thoughtfully, “Reminds me of your mother’s service.”

“They were identical.” You reply numbly, “Same flowers, same sermon, same mourners—”

“Ah. Yes, of course.” She falls silent and adjusts her skirt, “So, I was thinking,” She begins, “How would you feel about moving into the East wing?”

The East Wing. Where your brother lived.

“If you like, Cassandra.” You say quietly.

“I think it’ll be for the best.” She continues, “Maker knows that the balcony outside your bedroom needs to be repaired.” The older woman pauses, “I would hate for something to happen to you.”

“...of course, Cassandra.”

Your father paid for you to attend the nicest boarding schools on the continent. He paid for tutors and lessons and everything in between. He felt that your education was one of the most important things that he would ever gift you.

As a result, you are not a stupid woman.

You know that your father’s and brother’s deaths were not an accident. They were killed. And, if you were a suspicious person, you might wonder if your mother was murdered as well.

And, really, there’s only one person who would benefit from all of their deaths. The same woman who you now live alone with.

“Cassandra?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I was thinking of going into the city later today.” You murmur, “If you have no qualms about me borrowing the carriage?”

“Today?”

You don’t look at her, your gaze locked on the trees racing passed the carriage instead, “I’m finding the house… stifling, these last few days. I believe that getting out will be good for me.”

Cassandra nods slowly, “Of course. I felt much the same after my father died.”

At that, you pull your gaze away from the window, “How long did it take you to feel normal again?”

She drops her gaze to her lap, “Years. And even now, I wake up some mornings expecting to hear his voice.” There seems to be genuine concern in her voice, “The pain never really goes away. I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, though.”

“No. Not really.”

Cassandra nods, “I think a visit to the city will be good for you. Will you change out of your mourning gown?”

“I’ll change into a lighter one.”

“And you’ll wear your mourning veil.”

“Of course.” Your veil is much shorter than your stepmother’s, as the widow, hers is much longer. You allow your gaze to drift back out the window, and the carriage descends into a stilted silence.

Harride Manor has been in your family for seven generations. Built by one of your ancestors as a wedding gift for his wife. It houses over 80 people, half of them related to you.

Your stepmother believes that the house is hers.

That couldn’t be further from the truth. 

With the death of your father and brother the house and title now belong to your uncle, Mariano Harride. 

Uncle Mariano seems to have aged twenty years over the last week you note as he helps you out of the carriage and then ignores your stepmother. “My dear girl,” He places his hands on your shoulders, “How are you holding up?”

“As well as can be expected, uncle.”

“Yes,” He looks deeply pained, “I never expected to outlive your father. He’s always been healthy as a horse.” Uncle Mariano sighs deeply, “No matter, nothing will change now that the house is mine.”

“What?” Your stepmother asks as she approaches.

Your Uncle glances at her dismissively, “The house reverts to me with the death of my brother. You’ll be moved into the West Wing, Cassandra, with the rest of the extended family.”

Your stepmother flushes an ugly shade of red, “I just lost my husband and now I have to move?” She demands.

“Yes. You do.” He turns his back on her, and focuses his attention on you, “Of course, you’ll be allowed to keep your room.”

“I told her she needed to move into the East Wing.”

“It’s not your home anymore.” Uncle Mariano says sharply, “She can remain in her room until such time that she decides to marry.” He exhales slowly, “What are your plans for this afternoon, dear?”

“I was going to change and head into the city, Uncle. The house feels stifling these days.”

“Of course.” He lightly hugs you, “You’ve lost so much these last couple of years. You deserve a break.” 

“Thank you, Uncle.” You pull away from him and head into the house.

All you need is to change clothes, and then you can leave. 

Just a simple change of clothes, and then you can go and get help.

Private Investigator Fives sits in the living room in his brownstone, absently sorting the case files of the cases that he’s worked on in the past month. 

He owns this practice with his twin brother, though Echo has been away on a case of his own for the last two months. He knows that his twin is fine, Echo sends letters every other day after all, but he does miss him.

Fives pauses, mid-filing, when the doorbell rings. 

He sets his filing to the side and jogs over to the door, pulling it open with a polite smile. However, that polite smile is replaced with confusion when he sees the young woman on the doorstep.

She’s younger than him, probably by a couple of years. Her hair is covered with a black veil of mourning, and she’s clad in a mourning dress. And Fives realizes that he recognizes her.

“Mistress Harride,” He greets, “This is a surprise. Come in, come in.”  He opens the door wider and escorts her into the home, and over to one of the plush chairs.

“Thank you,” She folds her hands on her lap, “You’re the lead detective here, correct? Fives?”

“Yes, that’s me.” He sinks into a seat across from her, “Forgive me, Mistress Harride, but as I understand, your father and brother’s funerals were today—”

“You’re right. They were.” She agrees, “I…” She pauses and her hands curl around the dark material of her dress. 

Fives frowns, “You can tell me.”

She lifts her chin, and there are tears in her eyes, “I think my father and brother were murdered. And I fear that I might be next.”

He leans back in his seat, absently stroking his goatee, “As I understand, your father and brother were killed in a hunting accident.”

“No.” She pauses, “I mean, that is what the local authorities determined. But—”

“You don’t agree.”

“No.”

“Okay, tell me why.”

“My father and brother have been hunting their entire lives. They’ve always been careful. Especially after mom died.”

“Miss Harride, there’s no proof that your father and brother were murdered.” Fives says kindly.

“I know that.” She retorts, “I know there’s no proof. But I’m telling you, this wasn’t an accident.”

He sighs, “Miss Harride—”

“Detective.” She interrupts, “I lost my entire family in under three years. My father married my stepmother seven months after she died. And then my father and brother died less than two years later. There’s something not right.”

“Sometimes bad things happen.” Fives points out.

“Detective, if you don’t help me, the next time you see me will be in the news after I die in an accident.” She says quietly.

Fives leans back in his seat and stares at her, “You really think you’re in danger?”

“If not me, then someone else in my family.”

“...okay.”

“Detective?”

“I’ll take the case.”

Her entire face brightens, “You will?”

“I will. Is there anything else you feel like you need to tell me?”

She ducks her head and twists her skirt between her fingers.

“There is, isn’t there?”

“I…yes.” She shifts uncomfortably, “I don’t have any proof, but—”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for. Let’s hear it.”

“I think Mother was murdered too.”

“How did she die?”

“The doctor said she had a heart attack.”

“How old was she, when she died?” Fives asks.

“Late thirties.”

“Young for a heart attack. Did she have a heart condition?”

“No. The Doctor thought it was strange too, but he said that it happens sometimes.” She replies.

“Hm.” Fives taps the arm of the chair he’s sitting in, “You know, there are some poisons that can mimic heart attacks.”

“You think my mom was poisoned?”

“I think it’s possible, but I have no proof. Yet.” He stands, “Do you have a carriage?”

“Yes. It’s waiting at the station.” She replies.

“Wonderful.” Fives moves around the living room, gathering his go-bag and pulling his jacket on, “Well then, shall we?”

“You have no idea how much I appreciate this.” She says as she stands and follows him to the front door.

“Don’t thank me yet.” He opens the door and lets her out of the house. “However, this is my promise to you, Miss Harride.” Fives says as he takes your hand and brings your knuckles to his lips, “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

“You mean it?”

“I swear on my life.” Fives promises as his gaze locks with hers.

“Well, that’s something for me to thank you for then, isn’t it?” She asks with a small smile.

“I suppose it is.” Fives agrees, he releases her hand and motions for her to walk with him, “Now, I need you to tell me everything you can about your parents and brother. And all of the players in this game.”

“I can do that, where would you like me to start?”

Fives grins at her, “Tell me about your Stepmother, Miss Harride.”