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wlntrsldler · 2 months

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shades of cool | luke castellan

part two to how to disappear

a/n: happy endings don't exist on this page.

i. and when he calls, he calls for me and not for you; he lives for love, he loves his drugs, he loves his baby too.

“hermes is angry.”

you knew it was your mother before you even saw her. the two, white doves cooing in the middle of downtown berkeley gave her away. although you hadn’t spoken to her in months, too afraid and too upset to put your faith in the hands of the gods since the night at the pier, your mother tried to get your attention every day. the flowers bloomed like clockwork. on your way to class, red and orange bunches sprouted from the corner of your eye. the once welcome reminder of luke turned bitter and painful. it was as if your mother was mocking you for losing him, for losing love. you felt as if you disappointed her, the daughter of the goddess of love, unable to experience it for herself. it was pathetic, really.

you tucked your hair behind your ears, suddenly feeling self-conscious with aphrodite’s eyes on you. she was your mother, sure, and she’d been a better parent to you than most, but she was still a goddess– the goddess of beauty at that. your arms were crossed over your chest, eyebrows furrowed, “why?”

she didn’t answer your question just yet, but she studied your face, eyes scrutinizing the marks of imperfections. she reached over to run her thumb across the bags under your eyes. “you’ve aged, my child.”

you fought the urge to roll your eyes. this was normal with your mother. she made these snide comments about your appearance, but her comments to you were not nearly as bad as what she said to your siblings, and especially not as bad as what other godly parents put their kids through. you could handle a few jabs here and there. you shrugged, “not all of us have the power of eternal youth.”

she nodded, pulling her thumb away, “we have not talked in a while.”

“been busy,” you lied, chewing on your bottom lip. you tugged on the scarf around your neck, wanting to keep your hand occupied as you avoided her gaze. you wondered if your mother missed you, if she actually cared about you. in the weird way that gods do, you suppose that she did care, but you wondered if she cared about you the way a mother would; worry about your safety when you went out at night, worry if you were wearing enough layers in the winter, mundane things like that. “college and stuff, you know.”

“hmm,” she hummed, unconvinced. she motioned for the two doves perched on the tree branch to fly away. they obeyed her, circling around each other in a dance, before flying away in separate directions, away from the both of you. “how many more years do you have left?”

“another two after this and then i’m done.” it was odd talking to her like this, in her human form, like she was a normal mother who was just curious about college and her daughter’s future. maybe she even sounded a little bit proud of you; a child of aphrodite, making a name for herself outside of the life she was dealt. “hopefully, i’ll make it to graduate school.”

a heavy tension hung in the air as your words echoed. aphrodite’s eyes narrowed, thinking. she looked up at the sky, before repeating herself. “hermes is angry.”

you stared at her, waiting for her to continue. there was an unreadable expression on her face, somewhere between anger, pain, and desperation, but it wasn’t her own emotions that she carried. she was mirroring someone, as if their pain was so unbearable, aphrodite herself had to shoulder some of it to save them. the gods were selfish. most of the time, they thought of nobody but themselves, but there were some moments when they showed compassion, when they showed mercy to mortals and demigods alike.

“his son resents him,” she continued, eyes closing like she was picturing it in her mind. “he is angry at me because his son prays to me instead of him.”

“mom, i don’t want to hear this,” you sighed, anger rising in your system. you knew she knew how you felt about the situation. you’d ignored her attempts to talk frequently. “he made his decision. he’s betrayed us all.”

“i cannot ignore him, don’t you understand?” she looked at you, eyes glossed over in a pleading manner. she looked too human. it was unsettling. “his love is loud. he is desperate. i am the goddess of love and i cannot ignore him while he suffers, even if he makes me his enemy.”

“the other gods listen to his prayers to me because i can no longer carry the burden on my own. it is too much, my child,” she shuddered, “all he talks of is you.”

you stared at her, internalizing her words. a shiver went down your spine as you looked at her, “i don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”

“i have tried to tell you, but you’ve been stubborn,” aphrodite frowned, “you do not pray, you do not make your offerings. you have not spoken to your siblings since that night. you have disappeared from this life as if you were not part of it at all.”

“because i didn’t ask for this!” you screamed. “i don’t want anything to do with this, mom. losing luke… it killed me. you know this. i can’t go back there and i can’t make offerings to you or the gods when you all are the reason why he did what he did!”

since that night, you began to question your blind faith in the gods. you’d been taught to worship them and you did because you had to. you were luckier than most, being the favorite of your mother, so you never went against the gods. you thought you had no reason to, until luke began talking to you. he planted seeds of distrust for the gods in you, learning about thalia, meeting annabeth and learning her story from luke, what luke had to go through during his quest. how did the gods sit back and leave their children for dead? but you always believed there was a purpose for all of this, and it provided you with some misguided comfort. then, luke left everyone who’d ever loved him because the anger in his soul won against all odds, and you knew there was no reason to trust them anymore.

if the gods were all-mighty and all-powerful, how could they let him grow so angry and accept this fate? how dare they ignore him and ruin him? he was kind. he was patient. he was luke. he deserved more than what they gave him. all of you do. aphrodite blinked, trying to understand you. a look of panic flashed across her features, her human form slowly peeling away, but you could see her pulling back.

“i’m not saying i’m joining him,” you sighed, rubbing your face with your hands, “i’m just saying what he said to percy made sense. luke had a point. the gods were horrible to him and to all demigods. hermes has no right to be angry with you, or with luke. he should be angry at himself. all of you should be.”

“i can’t forgive luke for what he did,” you whispered, voice calming after a rumble of thunder shook the ground. the gods were listening. “beth still wakes up screaming in the middle of the night. she writes to me every month. i haven’t written back because it hurts, mom. i keep thinking of luke. she reminds me so much of him and it kills me that i can’t do anything to help her. where do i even start? i can’t fulfill the hole he left in her life. nobody can.”

your mother nodded, clearing her throat. “do consider returning to camp this summer. your siblings miss you and your sister is not doing well.”

“piper?”

“silena,” she replied. the doves returned to her. “it was lovely to see you, my child.”

in a blink, she was gone. you wondered if she’d show her face again, but the rain fell from the sky soon after she left, and you realized you probably wouldn’t.

ii. but you are unfixable, i can't break through your world.

“i’ll catch up with you guys in a second,” you motioned for your roommates to keep walking home without you. the two girls nodded, sending you a small wave of goodbye, before they turned the street corner. you began walking towards the entrance of the science building, towards the silhouette of a boy you could recognize in every life.

luke’s jaw was clenched as you approached him. he was caught. luke knew that he shouldn't be here. he knew it was too dangerous, but he couldn't help himself; he had to see you.

berkeley suited you. in college, you were a normal girl, stressed about finals and getting a summer internship. though luke had never seen you outside of camp before, he always imagined that you’d look even more beautiful when you didn’t have the stress of this life on your shoulders. it was weird seeing you out in the world like this. if he hadn’t known you, if he wasn’t already under your spell, he would undoubtedly fall to worship aphrodite’s favorite daughter.

your friends didn’t know who your mother was, but if they saw through the mist, if they knew the truth, it wouldn’t come as a surprise to them. you had an aura about you that was undeniable and for a minute, luke was jealous that these people around you could freely succumb to your pull, to allow themselves into your orbit, while all he could do was watch from afar. they didn’t realize how lucky they were to be around you, they would never fully understand.

you looked happy in the bay area, free, like you weren’t a demigod, like you weren’t preparing for a war. a war that he knew he caused.

he looked down at his feet before rising from the steps. he hadn't planned to speak to you. he’d been following you for weeks, from a distance, of course, he wasn’t going to test his luck any more than he already was, but then you approached him and luke knew there was no hiding anymore.

truth be told, there was never any hiding from you in the first place. you knew him better than he knew himself. sometimes, it scared him, just how vulnerable he was with you. when he first realized how he felt about you, he wanted to squash the feeling between his fingers and make it disappear into thin air. he knew there was nothing good that could come out of it, but he couldn't help but hope.

how could he not? how could he not hope that maybe, in some twisted way, he would be able to be with you? that one day, he could stop running, stop fighting, and just love you the way he wanted to. hope was a cruel thing, luke realized after the night on the pier. it makes him believe that there is good out there, somewhere in the future, daring him to hold on just a bit longer, only to leave him high and dry, an empty shell of who he once was.

“what are you doing here?”

luke let the question linger between the both of you for a second. partly because he didn't know what he was doing here. i needed to see you didn't feel like enough. it barely scratched the surface of what he was feeling. luke was never a wizard with words, but he used to be able to at least say something. now, though, as you stood in front of him, his mind went blank.

“what are you doing here?” you repeated. you had your arms wrapped around yourself to soothe your skin from the wind chills. luke didn't know it got this cold in california. “i’ve seen you a few times, and i thought you’d give it up, but it’s been weeks, luke. so tell me, what are you doing here?”

luke’s mouth was dry. he thought he was being careful, but he should’ve known better. you could always sense when he was around, just like how he knew whenever you were around. there’s something that shifts in the air, as if it gets lighter and it’s easier to breathe. luke wondered if it was still the same for you.

“he's using me,” luke whispered, “like a stepping stone to gain power.”

for a second, your face softened into a look that he knew too well. it was the same way you used to look at him when he talked about his nightmares or when he talked about his mom. a flicker of hope passed through luke’s mind, but he knew better now. he extinguished it before it got too comfortable.

there was a hint of disbelief in your voice when you spoke again, “what did you think was going to happen?”

“i thought i was doing the right thing,” he felt small. “i thought he wanted to make things better for us. the gods, they’re terrible parents. you know this. what they did to thalia, to all of us, i-i just thought that he would make things better.”

you shook your head, “luke, you betrayed all of us. percy, annabeth– did you know that she cries at night over losing you? over losing her brother? she’s lost everyone luke! and you were supposed to stay. you were supposed to be there for her! i saw her last summer when i came back to camp. beth is so much like you.”

“i know,” luke was crying. he was exhausted, both physically and mentally. kronos was taking over every part of him. he was there in every crevice of him, just waiting for the moment to drain him of everything he used to be. “gods, i know, angel. i just thought i was doing the right thing.”

“and me luke,” you rubbed your temples with the pads of your fingers. you hadn’t told anyone this before. you were too busy trying to make sure that everyone else around you was okay. as the oldest one now that luke was gone, you had to step up. your mother was right. your siblings were not doing well, nobody in the camp was. “i feel so stupid for ever trusting you. i keep thinking of every small interaction, every word you said, and i just keep wondering if any of it was real.”

“you don’t mean that,” he shook his head, stepping down to get closer to you. under the light of the streetlamp, you saw him better. if you didn’t know him as well as you did, you probably wouldn’t have recognized him. “everything, all of it, i meant it. you know that right?”

his eyes were sunken in, dark bags outshining the once vibrant sparkle of his eyes. now, the rims of his eyes were red. his hair was matted against his scalp like he let his curls tangle into knots and didn’t bother to fix them. there were newer, smaller cuts that joined the scar on his face. they weren’t as deep, but they were fresh, a sign that whatever he faced was recent.

“i love you, please tell me you at least believe that,” luke rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palm, “your mom doesn’t answer me anymore. i don’t know what else to do.”

when you didn’t say anything, luke felt the ground crumbling from under him. luke could live with a lot of things; being a failure in the eyes of his father, being a traitor, but you thinking that he didn’t love you was something he didn’t think he could live with. it was real to him, all of it. he didn’t know if this was the right time to tell you that those moments with you were the only things keeping him grounded.

the image of you throwing your head back in laughter as he tickled your sides, the freckles on your cheeks that showed up during the summer that he would spend hours counting while you slept on his chest, the sound of your voice, talking in hushed whispers, in the dark of the hermes cabin; it was you who he held onto as he fell deeper and deeper under kronos’ control.

luke walked closer to you, holding out a hand to touch you, when you flinched and backed away from him. your fingers unconsciously reached for the dagger you had on your belt loop. he shuddered, taking in a breath. he looked down at his hands, lips trembling as he wiped them on the fabric of his jeans. there was nothing on them, but he wanted to scrub them clean because it felt as if all the blood he spilled was stuck under his flesh, staining them red.

you thought he would hurt you.

“i…” luke trailed off, stuffing his hands in his pockets. he cleared his throat, “i didn’t come here to fight. i could never hurt you.”

“i don’t know anymore, luke,” you bit your lip, heart breaking as you spoke to him. “i never thought that we’d end up like this.”

“come with me,” he begged. “run away with me.”

“is this what you came here for?” you asked, “to try to recruit me like you did with percy?”

“no,” he shook his head vigorously. he was on the verge of getting on his knees to beg you to believe him. “i want out. i messed up, angel.”

“you did,” you whispered. he looked genuine like he meant it, like he did want to run away from it. a piece of you wanted to say yes, yes, i’ll run away with you. tell me where to go and i’ll follow you, but it was the part of you that still clung to him. the foolish part of you who still wanted to believe that the boy you met when you were younger, stubborn, selfless, sweet, luke castellan was still there.

you listened to that part of you on the final night in the hermes cabin, when you told him you loved him and he said nothing back. you tried so hard to lock that part of you away since that night, but it was hard to deny it when he was there in front of you.

“tell me what i can do to fix it,” luke felt like he was going crazy. “anything, angel. i’ll do it. just say the word.”

you closed your eyes, “there’s nothing you can do anymore, luke.”

“that can’t be true,” he hiccuped.

“you need to go.”

over the last few years, luke experienced brutal types of torture. he often spent days without sleeping, too afraid that kronos would visit him while he dreamt. he fought monsters he didn’t realize existed. he walked away from fights barely hanging onto a thread of life, but this– you telling him that there was nothing else left for him, like he no longer had a place in your life, this was a different type of torture that might just send him plummeting to his end.

“please don’t come back here,” you added, motioning to the buildings behind you. “this was the one place in my life you haven’t tainted.”

his apology was left stuck in his throat as you walked away, not once looking back at him.

iii. but i can't help him, can't make him better and i can't do nothing about his strange weather.

“y/n,” percy said, approaching you from behind.

it was the summer. you were sitting on the pier, a joint loosely hanging off your lips. you put out the lit end on the wooden pier, stuffing the joint in your pocket. you knew percy knew you smoked, but you still tried to hide it from him as much as possible. he was too young.

“hey, perce,” you smiled, kindly, scooting over to give him space to sit next to you. “sorry. you caught me. i’m not really being a good role model right now.”

“it’s okay,” he assured you, sitting beside you. he looked out into the lake, extending his fingers to cause a ripple effect in the water. “i don’t judge.”

you nudged his shoulder. percy looked his age in the light of the sunset. you wondered if you ever looked that young. “don’t tell mr. d.”

“he has plenty of other things to worry about,” percy scoffed, “how are you?”

you knew why he was asking. beth had told you today that they saw luke in the labyrinth. he was now kronos’ host. when she first told you, you were stone cold, no emotion on your face. you knew something like this was possible. it was only a matter of time until you lost luke all over again, completely this time, but it still hurt even though you knew it was coming. you simply nodded and walked off, finding solace at the pier as you always did.

“i’m okay,” you replied, though your voice said differently. you played with the sleeves of your sweater, luke’s sweater actually. he left it in the hermes cabin along with the rest of his things. nobody dared to touch it so his bed remained the same as it was years ago, collecting dust. “he came to see me in berkeley… before, y’know.”

“did he?”

“yeah,” you sighed, leaning back on your elbows. “he said he wanted out. asked me to run away with him.”

percy looked at you, “what did you say?”

“i told him it was too late,” you met his gaze. “i don’t know if it actually was.”

he didn’t know what to say to that. he’d only witnessed your relationship with luke for a few hours when he returned to camp for the first time. it was only a few years ago, but percy felt like it had been lifetimes. he’d heard about you and luke from annabeth and grover. when there were lulls in their conversations, one of them would bring you up and joke about how you and luke should just confess your feelings for one another. percy didn’t understand it until he saw the way luke was with you.

luke, who’d taken him under his wing, was love struck. percy didn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, but there were traces of you weaved into luke’s life. a picture of the two of you in his wallet, a small cal berkeley flag taped messily on his wall, a box of his things under his bed that were reserved for you, doodles of hearts in black and pink ink on luke’s counselor clipboard when he did cabin checks, you were in every piece of him.

luke was glued to your side the entire time you were there and nobody batted an eye. it was normal. luke and y/n, two names that seemed to go together, like they were meant to be uttered right after each other. it felt right.

“i met your mom,” he said, “she was weird.”

“sorry,” you couldn’t help but chuckle. “what did she say?”

“she was obsessed with me and annabeth,” there was a blush creeping up on percy’s cheeks. he looked down at his lap to shy away, but you caught it. it was such a teenage boy response of percy to call your mom, the goddess of love, weird because she caught onto the two kids’ feelings for each other.

“yeah, she does that,” you decided to spare him the details of why. you were sure the boy would explode in embarrassment if you told him that you also knew about his feelings for beth. you sensed it when you returned to camp last summer. there were inklings of it when you first met them, but now their bond was stronger and it was harder to ignore. “she used to obsess over me and luke.”

percy blinked, “she said your love was her favorite to watch.”

now it was your turn to go red, “did she?”

“yeah,” he nodded, “annabeth thinks that you’re aphrodite’s favorite because you and luke had a great love and she was drawn to it, which is a little mean if you ask me.”

“agreed,” you replied, “i… i miss him, percy.”

“i know.”

“i love him,” you cried, smudging the mascara on your eyes.

“i know.”

“he wasn’t always like this,” percy watched your eyes unfocus, like you were playing back the memories you had with luke in your head. “when we were younger, before luke was the golden boy, he used to help me sneak out of camp when i’d get home sick. he’d take me to this abandoned cabin a few miles away. an old couple used to live there and they set up a little free library. luke knew i loved to read so he would take me there so i could pick out new books for the summer.”

“i didn’t know it then, but before i got to camp, he would steal books from stores during trips into the city and put them in there so i would have new selections to choose from when i got back,” you had a fond smile on your face as you continued, “the cabin was sold to new owners and they took the library down a while back. i think they thought nobody really used it anymore.”

“he was always good at sneaking around,” you hummed, “he’d walk out of a place with something that wasn’t his inside his pocket; a lollipop for a new camper who was missing home a little extra one summer, a can of soda for beth from mr. d’s stash when it got too hot under the sun, a flower from the demeter kids’ secret garden for me. he never got caught, but everyone knew it was him. i don’t think anyone cared, though, because it was luke. he always had good intentions at the end of the day.”

“do you think he’s still there?” percy asked, voice hushed into a whisper. “do you think he could ever come back to being that way?”

“probably not,” you turned to face him. you were mourning him, percy realized then. luke wasn’t dead, not physically anyway, but the way you spoke about him felt like he was already gone. “luke, he internalizes everything he does. he beats himself up over the things he does wrong. if he were to survive this, i don’t think he’d ever forgive himself for it.”

“this life, this prophecy, it feels like too much sometimes,” he mumbled. the sun was gone now, the two of you sat in the dark, listening to the calm sounds of the water. “i still feel like i don’t know what i’m doing most days.”

“yeah,” you played with the pink lighter in your hand. the heart you drew on the plastic was long gone and there was no more fluid in it, but you kept it anyway. “my prophecy said that i would lose a love to worse than death and i ignored then because it didn’t make any sense to me, but now it does.”

“i’m sorry.” percy didn’t know if it was the right thing to say.

you smiled at him differently, like you were tired, a look of resignation across your face. you stood up, motioning for him to follow you back to camp to join the others. as you walked together in silence, you noticed a single dove fly across the horizon.

iv. high, neglectful lover. you’re crumbling, sadly. you’re sadly, crumbling.

you’d fought through your wounds, even as your bones ached and your blood stained the clothes over your body. luke appeared then. you didn’t know if the gods took on mercy on you at that moment, or if was the lack of energy to distinguish real life from your dreams, or a mist that covered the truth from you then, but the world seemed to stop and everyone seemed to fade away.

all you saw was luke, in his camp half-blood shirt, five beads around his neck, the same boyish smile on his face. his eyes were sparkling as he approached you. his lips felt soft to the touch and his voice was kind.

“my angel,” he said, wrapping his arms around you the same way he always did when you returned to him each summer.

if you were to choose the way death came for you, you would choose it just like this, you decided– in the arms of the one love you’d ever known.

#frances writes #frances song fics #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfic #pjo fanfic #pjo series

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astralnymphh · 3 months

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Domestic!Ellie is my addiction.

I need more. You don’t understand. It’s not a want!? It’s a DESIRE A NEEDDDDD!!!!!! Just reading the hc’s, how sweet and soft she is under it all.

When she’s herself again, that goofy dorky nerd we all know her to beeee!!! AGHHH!!!

- 🩵

i see more domestic!farm!ellie than i do domestic!jackson!ellie, and i think the latter needs to be discussed more.

no cuz farm!ellie— as I've definitely claimed before, is very husband coded. on the other hand, a more early–lover, girlfriend who takes care of the child u got knocked up with. which is literally dina, but, i guess if ur' not obliged to the thought of getting knocked up in the first place; gamer dad. i grew up with one, not like he was present 24/7, but like.. ellie? same font alternate story. i also hc ellie does best with boys, idk. just feel it. okay, maybe cause of jj.

stopp staying over at ellie's place for the night n' you bring the lil' guy over swaddled to your chest— legit, sowing two steps upon her doorstep, darkening it, not even getting the chance to knock, nay cast breath over it, and it's swung open and the bundle of wrathful joy nearing the age of two once strapped to you is now ecstatically babbling in your auburnettes arms. tis' fucking magic; how whenever ellie comes in contact with that baby, skies are rainbow–painted and mourning doves are entrancing the whole of jackson with a birdsong. how ur sweet boy, blood of your blood and bone of your bone, weeps gutty murder in the hold of yours truly— but dries of cheek and whorls of smile with ellie, is unfathomable.

"heyy dude, hows my favorite lil' guy in the world doing?" baby–talks ellie, so ooey and cooey as she bounces at the knee, blocking the doorway, "whos' ready to watch mom play the turning? i know mama is, i know you aree." you are but a fragment to her now, a forgotten shadow at her door. that sounds grim but take it literally. she like, literally forgets to kiss you at the door sometimes.

"ellie." comically, you tap your foot, faking a downturned pout left to dry without her kisses, and the cruel wintry air.

snapping her fern eyes up, she jerks a dumbfounded visage— and an even dumber query, "what?"

"my kiss?"

"oh, right.. um," her face relaxes and turns lily–white of innocence, shooting scattered glances at the child as she slants her weight over to you, "hey babe." extending graceful as a swans neck yet devoting you only a measly peck on the mouth measured lesser than a second before she slunk her body back and spun inside, rambling chin–tucked to that child, "ellies' got a new record i think you'll really like.."

lips still baked to a dry, you stare in catatonic quiescence at the eclipsed circle of pale lamp–light streaking around her bun as she paces away from you. step, by step, by hurried step, eager to spill attention with the full force of her coos amusing the easy–to–please mind, garbiling a possible bravo! or huzah!— until nightfall would whistle through the crickets and quiet him to sleep. leaving you, an even larger, tatted up baby now whiny for your attention.

need to see angelgbc photos of jackson!ellie holding jj now

#ellie williams #⤹𓍢ִ໋aestras asks #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #ellie williams fluff #domestic!ellie #jackson!ellie #lesbian #sapphic #ellie x reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams concept #⋆ .🩵 anon

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 5 months

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.⋆｡A Big Night In｡⋆.

Dick Grayson x plus size reader

The one where Dickie and Dove finally have a night to themselves

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, fluff, mom!reader, embarrassment, sort of breeding kink?

WC: 1.8k

Minors DNI

The Graysons

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“Now, if she gets fussy, she really likes the koala with the missing ear. She literally can’t sleep without it.” Dick was panicking, that much was plain to see and Bruce couldn't help but smile. It was moments like this, where his boy was filled with anxiety about something so normal as leaving his 6 month old baby with her grandparents overnight, that made his heart ache in the best way.

“Chum, I know how to take care of Alice, I think the 20 page binder you gave each of us on her needs helps.” He glared at his father, arms tightening around his baby as she sat on his narrow hips, happily playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“Oh leave him alone.” His mother scolded, giving her husband a light slap on his arm. “Don't pretend you weren't even more upset when you had to leave Dick alone for the first time. I seem to remember you calling me every ten minutes to get updates on how he was doing.” A light pink flush spread across Bruce's cheeks at the memory.

Grumbling, his eyes dropped to the floor like a petulant child. “It wasn't every ten minutes.” Dick shot his mother a grateful smile before turning his attention to Alice who didn't seem to share her father's level of anxiety.

It was a big day, her first sleepover without her parents. It would have happened sooner, in fact the first attempt had been when she was three months old. You and Dick needed some 'alone time' and your in-laws had been more than happy to extend their babysitting services. But an hour before they would come to pick her up, you and Dick had a breakdown and cancelled, instead spending the night curled up together in bed, Alice between you.

But, you couldn't put it off any longer. Alice needed to be socialised with other people and you needed to get laid.

So after a tearful goodbye, Dick drove her to Gotham, insisting on a little daddy-daughter bonding time before she was handed over to her grandparents.

“She likes thunderstorm sounds when she goes to sleep. And if she's still fussy, there's some frozen milk in the cooler bag.” Said bag was handed over to the awaiting hands of her grandfather, along with a Wonder Woman themed duffle-bag that held everything else she could possibly need.

“Ba.” Alice spat out, chubby arm pointing to her grandmother. Dick knew he had to get this over with, like pulling off a bandaid.

He pressed a long kiss to the patch of dark hair on the top of her head, inhaling that baby smell she hadn't yet grown out of. “You’ll be good for nana and pops won't you?” She cooed, eyes still locked on the older woman. He sighed, pecking her soft skin a couple more times before she slipped from his arms and placed safely in his mother's.

“Everything will be fine, I promise baby bird. You two have fun tonight.” Dick was quickly shooed out of the manor but not without a vague threat to Bruce to keep her safe, which he brushed off with his usual nonchalance.

By the time he had returned to his apartment in Blüdhaven, his mood had improved, especially with the text he received from you telling him to come straight to the bedroom when he got home.

“Dove?” He called into the darkened apartment, slipping off his shoes as he stumbled forward. A trail of clothes, haphazardly thrown on the hardwood guided him forward. There was a dim glow coming from the room just off of the kitchen, the smell of vanilla like a siren's call.

“Come on Dickie, we have a lot to make up for and not a lot of time to do it.” Your voice called out to him.

Dick groaned and palmed his already throbbing cock- it had been a long time, too long. “You're playing a dangerous game, Dove.” His voice thick with arousal as he called back to you.

His own clothes quickly joined yours, leaving him in just his boxers as he stepped into the bedroom where all the air was knocked from his lungs.

Your perfect, soft, naked body was completely on display for him as you lounged on the bed.

Your skin glowed in the soft orange light of the room and for a moment, Dick thought that there was no way you were real and that you were his.

“Holy fuck.” He watched with wide eyes as your legs fell open, revealing paradise to him, your fingers already tracing over your clit. “Leave it!” He suddenly shouted, now furiously tugging at his boxers. “That's all mine baby!”

Your giggles quickly turned into moans as your husband's strong body forced you further into the mattress and his lips met yours in a truly desperate kiss. Your nails dug into his muscular back making his hips buck into yours.

“Well, what are you gonna do about it daddy?” You cooed into his mouth, your left hand travelling down his front deliberately slow.

He caught your hand before you could reach his cock and with a dangerous gleam in his eye, he responded. “How about baby number 2?”

The cold metal of his wedding ring against your heated thigh sent a shiver up your spine, making his smirk grow as your nipples pebbled beneath his gaze. His fingers inched towards your centre, quickly gathering the arousal that had smeared onto your skin.

“God, you get even sexier by the day.” You gasped as he finally touched where you needed him the most, both easing and adding more fuel to your lust. His own patience was quickly wearing thin so your husband wasted no time in sliding two thick fingers inside you.

“Dick!” You threw your head back with a moan of his name.

“That's it, that's my pretty dove.” With his other hand planted by your head, Dick watched his fingers pump in and out of you, his skin now shinny with your wetness. “You're so fucking wet dove, must be aching for me.”

Your only response was to tighten around his fingers, your orgasm dangerously close. “Please please.” You begged.

“Do you want to cum on my fingers or my cock?” Dick breathed into your ear but the way that he was pressed so tightly against you, you could feel his thick cock throbbing against your thigh, the decision was already made for you.

“Want you inside, wanna feel your cock again.” His body sagged against you as he groaned from deep in his chest.

“Fuck, you can't say stuff like that- gonna make me cum before we even get to the good part.”

“Then you better fuck me already Grayson.” But the bite of your words was softened by the moan he forced from you as he ripped his fingers from your aching cunt and replaced them with the fat head of his cock.

“If you insist.” The first thrust was always deliciously painful as he stretched you out, making you feel every inch of his perfect length until he was nestled against your cervix and his balls pressed tightly to your ass.

Your groans mingled together in a beautiful lewd symphony, filling the bedroom like music. “So fucking tight.” Dick moaned through clenched teeth. “Need to fuck you more.”

“Yes.” You hissed both in response to your husband and because at that moment, his hips twitched causing his cock to brush against that sensitive bundle of nerves inside you.

“My poor girl, been neglecting my perfect wife. Gonna make it up to you, make you sit on my face till you beg me to stop.” His first thrusts were tentative, almost shy just like the first time you fell into bed with him but as you began to relax beneath him, he switched it up.

He knocked the moans from your lungs as he jackhammered into you, his own desperate need for release blinding him to everything else. “Never gonna let you feel empty again, I'll make sure you're always full of me one way or another.”

You sobbed with a particularly brutal thrust to your cervix and you dragged your nails down his back, leaving bright red marks. “Yes!” You cried.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking warm and tight, need to cum.”

“Inside, need it inside.” Your ankles locked around his hips. Your stomach began to pull tight just as Dick's thrusts began to waver.

“C'mon dove, cum for me- please.” And you shattered below him, melting into a puddle of ecstasy as your husband filled you with his cum, prolonging your orgasm.

Your left hand tangled in his dark hair and tugged his lips into yours. Your breath mingled as you both came down from your highs but Dick remained inside you, neither of you keen on having this end just yet.

“I love you.” You whispered to him and your husband smiled against your lips.

“I love you.” He replied with a gentle peck. “Soooooo, round 2?”

——————

“Dick's late.” Bruce's eyes once again flicked to the grandfather clock in the corner of the living room and then to the entryway but once again, there was no indication that his son had arrived.

Looking up from the floor where she had been playing with their granddaughter, his wife rolled her eyes. “Bruce, we've just given them their first uninterrupted date night in months, of course they're gonna be late. And hopefully they spent the night productively.” She said this last part almost to herself as she turned back to Alice who suddenly believed her right foot to be the most delicious thing ever.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at his wife. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” She sing-songed. “Oh look! They're here!”

And sure enough, Dick and a limping you walked through the door, not looking as well-rested as Bruce assumed you would be but both of you had big smiles on your faces.

“My girl!” Of course Dick immediately dove for his daughter, sending her into peels of laughter at seeing her father trip over his own feet in his hurry to get to her. You instead approached your father-in-law, greeting him with a warm hug and kiss to the cheek.

“Thank you for watching her, I hope she didn't give you too much trouble.” Bruce waved you off.

“She was an angel, like always. I thought you and Dick were going to get some rest, you look like you haven't slept a wink.” Dick snorted but immediately stopped when both you and his mother shot him a look.

You cleared your throat and with a look of embarrassment, you avoided Bruce's eyes. “We lost track of time and didn't get to bed until late.” You were content to leave it there but apparently, your husband had other ideas.

“Alice, what do you think about having a baby brother?” You and your mother-in-law sighed heavily as Bruce went pale, the realisation finally dawning on him.

“Oh-oh god. I think I need a drink.”

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bl0odyh3art · 1 month

Text

WHAT A SURPRISE.

warnings: incest (uncle/niece), uncle Leon, leon being a freak, non-con, vomit, Leon thinking reader is child until he sees her ??? 😭

this is dead dove/dark content. if are uncomfortable with this kind of content or don't like it, then do not interact.

a/n: ummm idk about this? felt like this was rushed : P

tags ^w^: @bunnyclaire

Leon hasn't seen you since you were around 12, too many missions and meetings to actually pay attention to family.

Besides, he fucking hated his brother, always stealing his women, but it was Christmas, so why not go see them? He's got nothing better to do than drink his feelings away and pay hookers for a barely good fuck.

He drove all the way down to his brother's house, he got you a coloring book and plushies…but until he knocked on the door, and you answered, in that fucking outfit.

"Uncle Leon?" you tilted your head.

Holy shit. That's my fucking niece? He thought

He just nodded, playing it off with the fact he thought you were some hot chick that your mom was friends with, could've almost fucked you right there.

"Uh, yeah….this is for you." he handed you the three presents, fixing his jacket.

"Wanna come in?" you pointed inside the house. He just nodded.

Throughout the night, he got more and more touchy with you, his hand on the small of your back, grabbing your hips to move you out the way, but he really just wanted to feel his boner against your ass.

It was time to open presents. Your other family members got you age appropriate things, underwear, socks, bra's, and just clothes.

It was time to open up your uncle's present! awww, how sweet of him to get you something after all this time!

You unraveled the poorly done wapping paper to find a princess and hello kitty coloring books, a box filled with 25 crayons, and the best yet….an plushie.

You smiled and dryly chuckled while everyone else was laughing their asses off.

Leon was not so proud of himself, rubbing his temple and groaning to himself, walking into the kitchen to get himself some whiskey.

You followed after him. "Leon?" you called out softly to him, hoping he wasn't crying or something. No more 'Uncle Leon! Uncle Leon!' it's just Leon. Just Leon now.

"Yeah, darlin'?" he muttered, leaning against the counter as you sighed and stepped beside him. "You know I'm not a little kid anymore…right?"

He cleared his throat and looked down into his glass "Yeah, yeah….I know"

His brothers walked in. "Hey! Leon!" he threw his arm around Leon's neck and chuckled. "How's my baby brother doing?"

"Fine. I'm good." Leon shook his head and groaned.

"Got yourself a little lady yet?"

"Nope, not yet."

Leon was in the bathroom, wetting his face with water. "Yeah…nice fucking job embarrassing yourself in front of everyone. dumb fuck….. buying your niece kid shit….fuck, fuck, fuck." his mind was a mess.

he wanted to fuck you, but he's your uncle, and he thought you've been a kid for years.

You knocked on the bathroom door. "Hey, you okay in there?"

"Y-yeah…just wait" he grumbled and opened the door.

"Umm…were you talking to yourself?" you tilted your head and slightly squinted your eyes at him.

He wanted to take you in the bathroom right now, bend you over the sink and fuck you like your his and his only.

"No…..uhhh yeah. You got me." he looked at you.He pulled you into the bathroom and just instantly bent you over the sink.

"w-woah…. Leon, wait, wait!" he slapped your ass and lifted the skirt of your dress. "Only sluts wear shit like this…are you a fucking slut?....huh?" he slapped your cheek lightly.

You shook your head "Wh-what?... Leon, what are you….what?"

"No. No. No more Leon….. it's fucking 'uncle'. Got that?" he was in your face, pulling your hair back, so you could look at him.

You quickly nodded as he forced you onto your knees, he struggled to undo his belt and pulled out his dick, smacking the tip on your cheek.

"You're gonna take this like a good girl and there'll be no problems…. understand?" he cooed sternly, slapping the tip against your pouty lips.

He grabbed your jaw to force it open and burry his cock inside your mouth, groaning as he forced your head up and down, making you choke and scratch his thighs. He chuckled and slapped your cheek.

"I said you take this like a good girl." he moaned and hissed a breath in as your teeth scraped his skin slightly

"stupid bitch…." He thrusted too hard, hitting the back of your throat and making you vomit all over his dick, thighs and some even on his bottoms.

"You…..you stupid bitc-!" he stared at you.

On the floor sobbing and hiccuping as you tried to clean him up. Muttering tiny little 'sorries', he sighed and threw you out of the bathroom.

He had to ask his brother for a new pair of pants because he 'accidentally' pissed in his.

You did keep quiet but you wanted more.

So, he fucked you and fucked you until you passed out.

Such an amazing uncle. One of a kind fucked up man.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #tw.incest

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absurdthirst · 3 months

Text

Breaking & Entering {Frankie Morales x F!Reader x Santiago Garcia}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.3k

Warning: Home invasion, restraints, guns, threats, non consensual sexual activities, vaginal sex, double penetration, anal stimulation, fingering, cum play, derogatory language, role play, aftercare.

Comments: Two men break into your house with more than robbing you on their minds.

🚨🚨DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT - this story contains dark theme of role-play and non-consensual sex🚨🚨

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Frankie Morales MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You’ve never been a deep sleeper, always worried and there’s so much to worry about. With your friends overseas fighting for their country and their lives, you wonder if you’ll ever see them again. The usual things worry you too. Money, your job, settling down with a guy, having kids. Would you be a good wife? A good mom? There’s so much to worry about. So when you hear the bump, you’re stirred from your light sleep. The creaking of the wooden floor makes you frown and you open your eyes when you hear what sounds like movement downstairs.

You’re not sure if it’s your imagination and you sit up, trying to figure out if it’s the darkness making you hear things or if someone is in your house. You get your answer a few moments later when the door to your bedroom opens and two masked men enter, guns in hand. “Don’t make a fucking noise.” One of them demands, aiming his weapon at you while the other starts to rifle through your drawers.

You can’t stop the whimper that escapes your lips until the one closest to you grabs you, shoving his gloved fingers over your mouth, “I told you to shut the fuck up.” He growls and you shake, starting to panic.

“Nothing here.” The other one says before he holds up a pair of crotchless panties, “unless you wanna take these home?” He asks his partner who chuckles, looking down at you.

“Are you a dirty girl?” He asks, the gun still pushed against your temple.

Your mind suddenly goes blank, unable to form a coherent thought other than the terror of having two men in your house in the middle of the night. Your mouth opens and nothing but a squeak comes out, making the taller one of the men chuckle behind his mask. “Ohhhh she’s so scared she can’t even speak.” He coos mockingly. His gun nudges deeper into your temple and he steps forward, closer to you. “Why don’t we make her scream?”

“How are you thinking of doing that, hermano?” The other one asks, shutting your drawer but he’s still holding the panties. “Or we could keep her quiet? Tie her up? No one would ever know.” He suggests and the other hums in consideration.

“She’s a pretty one. We haven’t seen a pretty one for a while. Maybe we could see how good she is at sucking a cock? Would you suck a cock to save your life, pretty girl?” He coos, sliding the gun down your head until he’s caressing your jaw with the muzzle.

You shudder and a small whimper escapes. You don’t know what you would do, but you don’t want to die. The gun in his hand feels cold and deadly against your skin and you don’t want that to be the last thing you feel. He hums and lifts it up over your chin and presses the barrel up to your lips. Shaking, you let him press it harder, opening your lips and your tongue touches the barrel.

"Oh she's eager to save her life." He chuckles, pushing the gun deeper into your mouth. "You don't wanna die, do you, hermosa?" He coos and you make a noise around the gun, shaking with the possibility of what they could do to you. "Nooo. She doesn't" The other one coos and your eyes are wide as you look at them, wondering what they want. Are they here to rob you? Or worse? "No need to be frightened, little one. We are just gonna have some fun." He promises, caressing your cheek.

Fun. A shiver races up your spine at the word and you must struggle slightly, because the arm around your body tightens to the point of near pain. “Don’t fucking move.” He hisses angrily, growling it into your ear and pulls the gun out of your mouth. “Kiss my hermano.” He orders, moving you forward towards the other man. “Say you’re sorry for insulting him.”

The ski masks conceal their identities but their mouths are free due to the cut out hole so you are shoved towards the man and you know you have to kiss him, otherwise you could die. He leans in to meet you halfway, his lips forcing yours to move, his hands finding your waist to pull you up against him while his partner grabs your hands, keeping your wrists together until you feel something pinch the skin as he tightens the zip ties. "Shhh. Don't worry, baby. You are safe...as long as you do everything we tell you." He promises and you gasp, allowing the tongue of the one you're kissing to push into your mouth.

His tongue slides into your mouth and all you can think of is that it is some kind of dream. You are dreaming. Still asleep in your bed, safe and sound. You'll wake up and shake your head, wondering what had caused you to think of this. His kiss is skilled and despite the terror, you feel yourself starting to respond to him. Your body heating up and your tongue flickering out shyly to mix with his.

The man watching you smirks, chuckling at the way you respond to the kiss. “That’s it, pretty girl. Just relax. You do what we say and you get out of this alive, okay? You’ll enjoy it too.” He promises, sliding his hand down to squeeze your tit through your tank top.

You whimper, trying to shift away but you can't, not when the other man shifts closer. Boxing you in between the two men and surrounding you. You can feel the strength in their bodies and you know that resisting will only result in you S’s hurt.

His hand squeezes your breast and pinches your nipple, making you whimper into the other man’s mouth. His tongue sliding against yours and they can feel how tense you are, slowly trying to relax you. They didn’t find what they wanted in your house but they did find you. “Wanna see how wet you are baby.” He murmurs, sliding his hand down into your sleep shorts to cup your cunt.

It’s shameful, the small sound that pours into the man’s mouth when a thick finger slides through your folds. Making you freeze for want of grinding into his touch and begging for more. You aren’t supposed to encourage them. You try to pull away from the kiss, but he’s holding the back of your neck, not letting you go.

Your moan vibrates between them and urges them to continue. The shorter one chuckles and pulls at your tank top, tugging it down until your breast is exposed and he ducks down to take your nipple into his mouth. The other one’s fingers push inside of you, curling before sliding back out to rub your clit.

Your cunt quivers, making you gasp so the two men touch you so brazenly. Making you moan at yourself mockingly, closing your eyes in shame at how good it feels.

“She’s a dirty one, hermano.” The shorter one chuckles against your breast while the other kisses down your throat, his fingers pushing back inside of you. They can feel you relax under their touch and their cocks are hardening at the thought of more. “You’re gonna suck my cock, aren’t you baby? Be a good little whore for us so we spare your life.” He hums, slapping your tit when he pulls back then he reaches into his pocket for his knife. Your eyes widen and you start to move but the other holds you tight to keep you still. “Don’t move.” The shorter one holding the knife warns and he grabs your tank top, cutting it through the middle to expose your tits to their hungry eyes.

Both men groan at the sight and the taller one behind you reaches up and cups your breasts. “We should fuck these.” He huffs, pinching both of your nipples. “Maybe we take our time. Keep her for a few days. It’s been a long time since we’ve indulged.”

You whimper, in both fear and lust which terrifies you even more. You shouldn't be turned on by this. Hands are everywhere, pinching and pulling, pumping and curling inside of you until you can't keep track of who is who. "I think she wants us to fuck her. You are a cock hungry little whore, ain't you?" The shorter one asks and you can't stop the strangled whine that escapes your throat. Both men chuckle and you pant as you are pushed closer to your orgasm. "That's it. She's gonna cum." The taller one coos, his fingers pushing deep and the other presses his finger to your clit, rubbing harsh circles.

Your eyes roll back and your head falls against his shoulder, crying out when you feel your body start to pulse. You shouldn’t cum, but you can’t help yourself. Pushed to the brink by these men and their skilled fingers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whine when he doesn’t stop stimulating you.

They don't stop, pushing you past the first orgasm and onto another, wanting you to be overstimulated and writhing, trapped between them. "That's it, such a good girl. Taking what we give you. Gonna make you feel good." The taller one promises, biting down on your ear lobe while the other slides his hand down to smack your ass, his fingers sliding between your cheeks to press against your puckered hole, "you want us both inside of you?" He murmurs into your ear. "Oh she does." The taller one chuckles when you clench around his fingers.

"I don't want your ass. I wanna be inside that tight little cunt." The short one says and his hand finds his friend's at your pussy. "Gonna stretch you out." He promises, pushing his finger in alongside two of his companion's.

They are filthy and yet you aren’t struggling. Gasping when you feel the thickness of his fingers inside you alongside the taller ones fingers. They are going to fuck you. You should be screaming and begging them to stop but another wave of arousal pours out of you and makes it even wetter as he scissors his fingers to work you open. “Why me?” You manage after a moment, wondering if they had been watching you or if they would have done this to any woman they found.

They both chuckle, deep and dark. "We have been watching you. We wanted to wait, make sure you were the one we wanted. You are everything we have been looking for, baby." The shorter one murmurs, kissing your neck as he pushes another finger inside of you to stretch you out even more. "You are so pretty. We wanted to see you scream out for us. You have something we want. Your cunt and...the money." The tall one reveals.

“Money, what money?” You gasp, eyes closing tight and you try to restrain another moan.

“You know what money.” The shorter one huffs, chuckling quietly and curling his fingers up again just to pull another sound out of you.

“You know what fucking money.” The taller one grabs the gun from his side to press it against your temple again, “all that money your daddy left you. It’s hidden all over the house. At least that’s what we heard.” He says, his fingers still moving inside of you.

You whine, shaking your head even as your body bucks against his touch. “That- it’s a rumor.” You promise them. “There’s no money.”

"Don't fucking lie to us." The shorter one growls. grabbing your hair but the taller one reminds him, "after, hermano. After." The gun is lowered and your hair released before the men continue fingering you.

There’s no way that you are going to get out of this unscathed. You feel the hardness of the taller man’s cock behind you, grinding into your ass and throbbing insistently. “Don’t hurt me. I’ll do whatever you want.” You pant out breathlessly. “Just don’t hurt me.”

The men withdraw their fingers, unable to wait any longer. "You wanna fuck her first then me?" The shorter one asks and the tall one nods, reaching down to unbuckle his pants, working on pulling his hard cock out. "What - what are you gonna do?" You ask, knowing exactly what they are doing but you want to hear it. "We are gonna fuck you baby. Both of us. At the same time." The short one answers, grabbing his knife so he can cut those flimsy sleep shorts off of you. Your arms are grabbed, still tied together, and you are pushed to straddle the tall one. "That's it, don't struggle. Good girl." He coos, reaching down to position his cock at your entrance. He holds your zip tied wrists to keep you still as he starts to push deeper inside of you.

Your cry is both fear and pleasure. Feeling him fill you up, you know another cock inside you is going to be a stretch and they are going to push you beyond anything that you have ever experienced before. You can’t balance yourself and would collapse forward if it weren’t for the man you are impaled on holding your shoulders as he grinds up into you.

Watching you take the other man’s cock, the shorter man reaches over to look into your drawer. “I knew she was a dirty little whore.” He chuckles as he pulls out the bottle of lube and he opens it, pouring some onto his hand while he works his pants open with the other. “It’s gonna feel good baby…we promise.”

You can’t even manage a comment as he starts to rub the lube around your already stretched out hole. Whining when you feel him shuffle closer and then the blunt head of his cock swipes through the lube. “Oh fuck.”

The man beneath you stills so his companion can start to push into you, slow and steady to not hurt you despite them stretching your tight cunt to the limit, their cocks pressing against each other as they push deeper inside of you.

The men groan, both of them holding onto you like an anchor. Fingers digging into your hips and ass. “Fuck you’re tight.” The taller one groans, leaning in and biting down on your shoulder.

You can’t speak, overwhelmed at the stretch and slight tinge of pain as the two men fill your cunt with their cocks. “Move.” You manage to gasp and the taller man chuckles, starting to move inside of you. It doesn’t take them long to establish a rhythm, a cock constantly inside of you as they rock their hips.

They both rock into you, a steady pace that steals your breath with the stretch of both of their cock drilling up into your cunt. “Fuck, this is perfect.” The shorter one groans, kissing along your neck and flexing his hips just a little sharper. “She likes this. Our little whore. We need to keep her just like this.”

You whine at their filthy words and their hands are everywhere while yours are still tied together. “We could do anything to her right now and she’d love it. Maybe I can fuck her ass next. You want me to open you up for me?” The one behind you coos, his hand sliding down to smack your ass until he’s leaning back so he can press his finger against your puckered hole.

You are so eager to please them it’s almost pathetic. Your own hips trying to move and get even more friction than they are providing. “Look at her. So fucking eager to please us she would let do any goddamn thing we wanted. We could fuck every hole she has and thank us for it, wouldn’t you, baby?”

“She would. She’s desperate for us.” The other one coos, reaching between your bodies to rub your clit. The strangled groan you let out makes them chuckle and they continue their punishing pace. “Gonna cum for us? Soak us in that tight little pussy?” The shorter one groans when you arch your back, changing the angle. “That’s it. Good girl. Fuck - shit. Yes that’s it baby, cum.”

They keep rocking into you, pushing you higher and the shorter one palms your tits. Massaging them and then pinching them sharply enough to make you gasp.

You’re pressed between them, their cocks moving a little faster inside of you and you are gasping for breath as their cocks push deep inside of you. “Fuck. She’s so tight.” The one beneath you groans and rubs your clit a little faster.

It’s so intense, all you can do is just let them use you. Your thighs tremble and your fingers hook around a belt buckle and you hang on as they fuck you like there is no tomorrow. “I-I’m- I’m gonna cum!” You squeal, starting to clamp down around their lengths.

“Fuck yes. Yes. That’s it. Shit.” One hisses while the other groans his appreciation, biting down on your shoulder as you shake, your cry echoing off of the walls of your bedroom. “That’s such a good girl, good little slut. Gonna - gonna fill you up with cum, let you drip.”

Your eyes roll and your cunt clenches at the filthy words. Your body responds like a bitch in heat and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. “Please.” You beg, feeling their thrusts get even harder. Enjoying the pinch of pain as they slam into you now that your cunt is used to being stretched full.

The taller one cums first, pushing up inside of you with a hiss and his hands grip your hips as his cock twitches. Rope after rope of his seed coating your walls and the cock of his partner who groans and keeps his frantic pace, seeking his own orgasm. It only takes a few thrusts before he’s spilling inside of you too, moaning out loud against the back of your neck.

Both of them pant, the taller one chuckling slightly as he starts to soften inside you. The rough fabric of his pants scratches the inside of your thighs and the burn from it is noticeable now that the high is gone. “Good little slut.” He coos softly, smirking beneath the mask. “So good we might let you live.”

The shorter one pulls out of you first and shuffles back to grab his flashlight, turning it on after the taller one pulls out of you so he can watch the combined cum drip from your abused cunt. "Mierda." He murmurs, watching it with fascination and you slump over, barely able to stay upright as the men shift away from you.

The taller one shifts you onto your stomach, pulling your knees up under you so that your ass and cunt is on display for them. Admiring how swollen and cum filled your cunt is. “Too bad we don’t have time to fuck her ass.” He groans, reaching out and scooping up some of their combined cum to rub around your puckered hole. Enjoying the way the muscle spasms at the sensation and you whimper. “Now, be a good girl and tell us what we want to know.”

“I don’t know what you want to know.” You pant when his finger presses against the muscle, slipping in just slightly. “You know. We know you know. Don’t make us hurt you, sweetheart. You know where the money is.” The taller one coos and the other one smacks your ass with his palm.

You cry out, clenching around the pushed in finger and scrub your head against the sheets. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You insist. “There’s no money. None.”

The taller one tuts, “don’t lie. It’s not very sexy, hermosa.” He clicks his tongue and pushes his finger inside of you while the shorter one pushes two thick digits into your abused cunt, cum pushing out around his digits.

“Oh fuck.” Your body jerks in pleasure and the slightest pinch of pain but you enjoy it. You moan into the sheets, feeling stretched out in a different kind of way. “I don’t.” You pant, denying it even though you know that they won’t believe you.

The tall one tuts, leaning down to spit on his finger when it pulls out of your ass and he adds another finger to stretch you out. “You do know. We know you do.” The other one coos, acting like he’s coaxing you when his fingers are pushing deeper and curling inside of you.

It’s too much and yet you are pushing your hips back for more. “I- I need-“ you choke out before a wordless sob of need rips out of your throat. Their other hands seem to have multiplied, touching you everywhere and it feels like you can’t even breathe.

Your choked sob makes them chuckle and they rub your clit and squeeze your tit while their hands continue their movements. “That’s it. That’s it baby girl. Cum for us. Cum. You can do it.” The short one coos and leans down to bite your shoulder.

All you can do is obey them as they coax your body towards their goal. Every finger curl of their hands making your body shake and tremble. "I- Fuck! Frankie! Santi!" You scream when stars burst behind your eyes and your cunt clenches down and soaks them.

They work you through it but Frankie groans, “baby, you ruined it.” He whines slightly and Santi chuckles, kissing your shoulder.

“She didn’t ruin it. We did. Made her cum too hard ,she forgot to role play.” He smirks against your skin and the men soon withdraw their digits from inside of you. “Felt too good, huh, hermosa?” Frankie snorts, leaning in to kiss your neck.

“I’m sorry.” You gasp out, trying to catch your breath as they stroke your ass and sides, both of them on either side of you. “I- it was too good.” You admit, giggling slightly. “But I want to do it again.”

“Yeah? You wanna maybe do something a little more…aggressive next time?” Santi asks, knowing you wanted to tonight. It was your idea. They are happy to indulge you, wanting you to be satisfied in their duty as your lovers.

“We would do anything you wanted us too, baby.” Frankie promises, kissing your shoulder gently. “Tonight we just needed to see how you would react. You didn’t even use your safe word, I knew you wouldn’t.”

“So damn good for us.” Santo says as he removes his mask and Frankie follows suit, grabbing the flashlight to turn it off before he reaches over to turn on the lamp, letting you see them both for the first time. Santi grabs his knife to cut the zip ties, massaging your wrists as he helps you turn over. “I’ll get you cleaned up.” Frankie murmurs, kissing your forehead before he shuffles off of the bed.

Santiago presses closer, kissing your cheeks and petting your hair. “You were so good for us baby. Do you feel good? Anything you didn’t like? Wanted more of?”

Frankie comes back and carefully cleans you up, tossing the rag aside after he tucks himself away in his pants and he lays down beside you, pressing you between him and Santi. You turn to kiss Santi, “it was so good. Everything I wanted. I wanted the surprise and you gave that to me. I loved it, baby.” You promise and peck his lips while Frankie caresses your side.

“You want more?” He asks, wanting to know himself.

“I do.” You snuggle down between the two Delta force soldiers and while your relationship is not conventional, it works for you. They are gone a lot and often stressed from their work, so the easy, shared relationship with you works. “Maybe something a little more primitive?” You ask. “I know you two don’t look at camping like a vacation but something out in the woods?”

Frankie caresses your spine, “yeah? You want us to chase you down?” He coos, his blunt nails scraping your skin. “You want us to chase you down and fuck you in the woods? Use you for our pleasure?”

You grin as you turn your head and look at Frankie. “Yes I do.” You promise him. “Especially if you fuck me like you did today.”

“We can arrange that. Leave it with us. Now, get some rest. You need to sleep after that. Me and Frank are gonna clean up and then we are gonna fall asleep with you.” Santi murmurs, kissing your shoulder as Frankie works the covers from beneath you so he can cover you up.

They are so good to you. Despite saying they were shit with relationships and couldn’t give a girl what she needed since they were always gone, you found both of them to be incredibly thoughtful and sweet. You wouldn’t have much communication while they are deployed but they would let you know when they could and that’s good enough for you.

Frankie and Santi clean up, stripping down to their underwear and sliding into bed beside you after getting you a bottle of water. “Come on baby, let’s get some sleep. Frankie said he’d take us to brunch tomorrow.” Santi promises with a chuckle.

“I’m not dealing with you on endless mimosas, Pope.” Frankie snorts, curling around you.

“You know you love it when I get horny from Prosecco.” Santi smirks against your forehead and you chuckle, “brunch sounds good.” You murmur, pressed between the two men, satisfied and safe. You trust them with your life and you know they will always protect you, satisfy you, and make you happy. Even if you ask them to fake breaking into your house.

#pedro pascal #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader #catfish x reader x pope #catfish x f!reader x pope #catfish x you x pope #santiago garcia x reader

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 11 months

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Beach Day - Hangman

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Sersin / Wife!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Referenced Sexual Innuedos/Situations; Three Named Seresin Kids; Wife!Reader is not Named, No Physical Description, No "You" or Y/N

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: Jake and his wife enjoy a beach day with their three kids.

Master List

With the spring heat settling over Miramar, the Seresin family made their way down to the beach. Jake had the day off and intended to spend the full day with his family. Especially because he was probably going to be sent on deployment at some point relatively soon.

The beach was mostly full of surfboarders and a few small groups, so the Seresin family had their pick of the patches of sand. And unsurprisingly, little JJ—Javier Jacob—Seresin, the eldest of the Seresin bunch, marched ahead of his parents, leading his way through the sand to a spot of his choice.

“Right here?” Jake asked JJ after he tossed his toys down on a patch of sand.

“Yeah,” JJ agreed, pointing at the sand. He tossed his toys on the ground, claiming the area for the Seresin family. JJ barely let his parents set down their bags and get his siblings in order before he turned to the waves. "Can we go to the water?”

“Not without me,” Jake stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Remember, you can’t go into the water without Mommy or Daddy.”

“And you need some sunscreen too,” Jake’s wife called, pulling out the sunscreen. “Come here, JJ.”

JJ pouted a bit, but he eventually trotted over to his mom, who was in the middle of applying sunblock to his little brother, Charlie, who was far less antsy than JJ to get to the water. Charlie was by far the most cautious of the Seresin siblings, taking after his mom more. JJ, on the other hand, dove into everything head first.

And that was why Jake wasn’t going to let him anywhere near the water without supervision.

Once Charlie and JJ had their sunblock on, Jake turned to his wife and held out the tub of sunscreen. Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, he turned around for her.

“Don’t be afraid to really get in there, Mrs. Seresin.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll make sure I cover every inch, Mr. Seresin.”

And, well, Jake’s wife wasn’t going to complain about getting to touch her husband. Even if they had to be a bit subdued because of the publicity and children present. Three kids definitely took their toll on their own shared intimacy, so they managed to morph into horny teenagers whenever they could actually get their hands on each other.

Once she covered his back in a layer of sunscreen, Jake turned around for her to get his chest. He could have easily done it himself, but neither of the two of them were complaining. Locking eyes, Jake’s wife bit her lip to fight a smirk as she teased the patch of skin right above his swim trunks.

“Careful, Mrs. Seresin. There are little eyes around,” Jake replied, as if he wasn’t leaning into her touch. He leaned down and rested his forehead against her own. “But there won’t be later.”

“All set,” Jake’s wife stated, giving him a love pat on his ass. “You’re dismissed, boys.”

Jake snuck a kiss from his wife before bending down to help his two sons with their puddle jumpers. With both boys safe in their floatation gear, Jake scooped Charlie up and into his arms and took JJ by the hand to lead him down to the waves.

“Call if you need anything,” Jake replied, glancing over at the still sleeping baby.

“We’ll be fine. Have fun, babies!” Jake’s wife cooed to her sons. “Be good for Daddy!”

“We will!”

“Don’t feel obligated to follow your own advice,” Jake winked, earning a look from his wife.

“Shoo,” she laughed, waving her hand. “Go to the water. Or JJ’s going to run away from you.”

Jake headed down to the water while his wife took shelter in the shade of the small umbrella that Jake set up when they arrived. Baby Evelyn Seresin was peacefully sleeping in her carrier. Jake once remarked that Evelyn could sleep through just about anything and it looked like she was keeping up that streak. Settling into her chair, Jake’s wife turned to the water to watch her boys.

JJ was running around in the waves, giggling and screaming as he kicked at the water. Charlie was still on his dad’s hip, staring at the water with clear distrust. Jake was obviously trying to encourage him to touch the water, but he wasn’t successful. Reading her book for a bit, Jake’s wife suddenly looked up when her daughter stirred. She picked her daughter up and into her arms to settle her.

“I know, I know,” Jake’s wife cooed, patting her daughter’s back. “Come on, let’s go see your brothers and your dad, huh?”

Slowly getting up from her chair, Jake’s wife made her way down to the waves with her baby resting against her chest. Evelyn was only a few months old, but it took absolutely no time whatsoever for her to get the three Seresin boys completely and utterly wrapped around her dainty little finger.

“Hey, look who woke up,” Jake called when he spotted his girls. He leaned over to press a kiss to his wife’s lips and then his daughter’s head. “Want to go for a little dip, Evie?”

With practiced maneuvers, Jake took Evelyn while his wife took Charlie into her arms—the Daddy’s Girl and Mama’s Boy. Charlie happily clutched onto his mom, who he knew wouldn’t force him to touch the cold, dark waves. And Evie picked up her head just a bit to blink at her dad.

“Hi, Princess. How’re you feeling?” Jake cooed, rubbing her back.

While his wife turned to entertain JJ, Jake carefully squatted down as the waves trickled up again. He kept a solid grip on his daughter, but lowered her little feet down to the water. Evelyn let out a noise when the water brushed against her toes, but she didn’t cry or complain. And when she started to kick at the water, Jake couldn’t help but laugh.

“There you go, baby girl. Look at you! You’re going to be a swimmer, I know it,” Jake praised his daughter, pressing a set of kisses to her head.

When the sun drew higher in the sky and the beach started to grow full, the Seresin family made their way home for lunch and nap time. Working as a team, Jake and his wife got all three kids cleaned up, fed lunch, and down for their naps.

“Are the boys asleep?” Jake whispered to his wife as he stepped out of the nursery.

“They knocked out the second that their heads touched their pillows,” she mused, chuckling lightly. “I think that we tired them out. What about Evie?”

“She’s sound asleep,” Jake reported, closing the door carefully.

“I think that we have some time,” Jake’s wife stated suggestively, smiling at her husband.

“Lead the way, Mrs. Seresin,” Jake replied, matching his wife’s smile.

Grabbing each other’s hand, the Seresins hurried down the hallway to their shared bedroom. A quick joint shower and change of clothes later, the sound of snoring echoed down the hallway. Jake laid on his back with his wife curled up onto his chest and the both of them absolutely passed out.

Maybe younger versions of themselves would have wanted to spend every second of their free time catching up on their limited intimacy. But for now, a shower quickie would suffice. They had more hours of sleep to catch up on than anything else, after all.

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fuckmyskywalker · 2 months

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𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 — 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬𝐨𝐧!𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫.

18+. Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Fauxcest/Stepcest. Stepson!Anakin X Stepmother!Reader. Age-Gap. Implied power imbalance. Minor Dubcon. Fem!Reader/Afab!Reader. Handjob. Minor tit play. Obi-Wan is Anakin's father in this one. | Word count: 0.6k (not proofread!)

It's happening! Minors DNI. If you don't like it... DNI too! ;)

Anakin’s breakup was a pain to watch and seeing him so distressed and sad broke your heart. You did everything you could to help him— but it was quite a hard task. Anakin refused to leave his bedroom for a couple of days, only getting up to shower and be held by you. He barely touched the plates you left on the nightstand and you couldn’t bear to see the dark circles under his beautiful blue eyes.

His father was worried about him, but you promised Obi-Wan you would help Anakin and you would never break your promise.

Everything you did was for him. He was yours too. You always loved him as such.

“Can you stay a little longer?” Anakin whispers against your chest, tracing the swell of your left breast with his lips. “I’m— I’m not ready yet, Mom.”

“I’ll stay all night if you need me to, Ani,” You kiss the top of his head, sneaking your hand in between his thighs and slowly jerking him. You know how sexually frustrated he has been, you know how much Anakin yearns for relief. A good mother would help her stepson— the boy you love with your whole heart. “Just let Mommy take care of you.”

So Anakin lets go, forgetting those memories that make his stomach twist and his eyes stream hopeless tears, allowing himself to be taken care of— and it’s nice. It’s a warm, soft feeling that invades his senses and numbs his pain. When your tits brush his face and he sucks on them greedily, or when you sit on top of him, riding him and cooing at him… that’s when Anakin forgets the world outside your… unconditional and loving embrace even exists. His hands knead your chest, enjoying the weight and your heartbeat against his palm. He likes you to close his heartbeats with yours.

A loud groan escapes his chapped lips when your hand strokes faster, stopping briefly to let a globe of spit fall onto your open palm and spread it up and down his cock which makes him moan again. How could someone give up on those pretty sounds? You are well aware of how badly Anakin’s ex-girlfriend treated him and how she barely agreed to touch him. Only to phantom that thought you could sense the anger boiling in your stomach.

But it’s alright. Because you are here. When the world fails, when everything shatters— Anakin knows he can come back home to you, to the place he will always be welcomed.

His father wouldn’t understand it. It’s different. A mom’s love is different.

“How do you feel?” You ask, using that maternal tone that makes Anakin’s cock throb in your hand, You notice it, you notice everything about him, you know your stepson like the back of your hand. Sweetly, you brush the strands of sweaty blonde hair that curl over his forehead, leaning down to kiss it causing him to whimper. Really, really pretty noises…

“Better,” He chokes, lifting his hips, silently asking for more. “So much better—” Anakin closes his eyes, biting his lower lip. His heart could explode at any second from this raw, pure, selfless love that he has for you. It’s that sick, precious filler that his poor tainted heart needs. “Thank you for staying, mommy. I d–don’t deserve it.” There he goes again. Thinking he doesn’t deserve anything good— just like his ex said before she broke up with him.

“Nonsense,” You scoff, kissing his parted lips and caressing his cheeks, brushing away those tears that break your heart. As long as you are alive, no one will hurt your little prince. “You deserve everything, Ani. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”

“I love you, mommy.”

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes!#stepson!anakin #stepson!anakin skywalker #stepmother!reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin x fem!reader #anakin skywalker x fem!reader #anakin skywalker one shot

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 3 months

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Napoleonville [Chapter 4: The House Of Glass]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, koi fish, smoking, drinking, drugs, kids, parenthood, Willis Warning, impractical architecture, angst, Adventures With Aegon, historical topics including war and discrimination, let's all give a nice warm welcome to Christabel! 🥳

Word Count: 7.4k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @aemonddtargaryen @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! 🥰🧁

It’s dawn, but you’ve already been up for hours. The sky turns from indigo to embers to flames to a cool, cloudless blue; mourning doves coo, goldfinches chirp, swamp rabbits gnaw on blades of grass glittering with dewdrops like diamonds. As the vanilla bean cake bakes in the oven, you go to Cadi’s room, sit on the edge of her bed, lay a hand lightly on the indistinct knoll that is your daughter curled up beneath her Rambo-themed blanket.

You murmur as she stirs awake: “Bonjour, ma cherie.”

Cadi rolls over, blinking groggily. You don’t call her this often. It’s something you picked up from Willis when you were married. You have a vision—sudden, jarring, though not entirely unwelcome—of him pacing back and forth with Cadi in his arms, one month old, 1 a.m., Willis humming some Cajun folk song to lull her to sleep. “Mom? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I called Cascade Stables, there’s a spot reserved for you.”

“What? Really?!” Her face glows, Christmas lights, the Fourth of July. “But you said…how…?”

You can’t take the credit. You won’t give it to Willis if it’s unearned. “Actually, Aemond offered to pay. So you don’t need to worry about anything. The house is fine, the car is fine. No need to sacrifice your birthday presents.”

Cadi sits upright and ponders you, enigmatic childish confusion. “Mom…is Aemond your boyfriend?”

Well, honey, at first he was just some stranger from a kinky personal ad and then he was a delicious distraction and now I fear I might be starting to want more from him, something not so temporary, something forbidden. But I don’t know who he is. “I don’t think it’s quite that serious yet,” you say instead. “Would you like for him to be around more?”

She shrugs, and you recognize it not as true reluctance but rather as feigned, self-preserving indifference. “Yeah. I mean, I guess so. He’s okay.” Then she adds: “What happened to his face?”

“I honestly don’t know. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“Maybe he was in a war,” Cadi says, glancing down at her Rambo blanket, Sylvester Stallone armed and stern and shirtless.

“Um, yeah, maybe.”

“Can I have cake for breakfast?”

“No, you cannot,” you say, smiling. “But you can have some of Amir’s leftover jambalaya that’s still in the fridge.”

“Fine.”

“Get up. Get ready. Amir should be here soon, once he can watch the cakes I’ll drive you to school.”

“If you let me stay home, I could help you bake.”

“You definitely wouldn’t help. You’d just spend eight hours playing that Nintendo.”

Cadi grins. “Probably.” Then she rolls out of bed and shuffles towards the kitchen over the creaking, sinking floor.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, what the fuck,” you hiss to yourself as you park behind Willis’ sheriff’s vehicle—a Plymouth Gran Fury—which just so happens to be towing a 20-foot jon boat. You step outside into glaring 90-degree sunshine, slam the door of your Chevy Celebrity, and jog into the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office. You are carrying a white bakery box full of cherry cobbler muffins.

“Hey sugar,” Willis drawls when he sees you. The holding cells are empty; the electric fans are whirring. Heather Locklear is simpering from where her poster is taped to the wall.

You throw the bakery box down onto his paper-strewn desk. “What the hell is that outside?”

“My new boat,” Willis says proudly. “Picked it up first thing this morning.”

“So you can get a new boat, but Cadi can’t go to horse camp?”

He throws his arms wide, exasperated. Men love to make a habit out of being exasperated by things that should be obvious. “She’s gonna get way more outta that boat than from spendin’ a week brushin’ horses! We’ll be fishin’ in it together ‘til she starts poppin’ out her own babies. If Lake Verret ain’t a puddle of oil by then. You know I’ve had three deputies resign in the past ten days? Three! I’m bleeding manpower. I can’t compete. With overtime, they can make twice as much workin’ security on the rigs.”

“I thought you voted for Reagan and his energy independence.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want them drillin’ in my neighborhood.” He flips open the box, grabs a muffin, and takes a huge, messy bite. Crumbs go flying everywhere.

“Well, Cadi is going to get to brush those horses after all,” you tell Willis. “She’ll be gone from June 24th to July 1st. Just so you know.”

His forehead crinkles as he chews. “Where’d you dig up a spare $300?”

He gave me $400, actually. “A friend offered to pay. Kind of embarrassing that they stepped up instead of you.”

Willis ignores this jab. It is uncharacteristically combative of you; but you’re hot, you’re exhausted, you have a splitting headache, you still have four cakes to finish before noon tomorrow. Sweat rolls in beads down the slope of your neck, the curve of your back. It will evaporate once you’re back outside again, once the sun bakes it off you like nightmares fade in daylight. “A friend, huh?” Willis is more fascinated than annoyed. He gnaws on his muffin, contemplating you. “The only friend I know of is Amir the Queer, and he ain’t got nothin’.”

He does; he’s just squirreling it all away for San Franscisco. “Don’t call him that. Don’t be a neanderthal.”

Willis’ thoughts are elsewhere. If not Amir, then who? Who? He asks, smirking: “You got a petit ami, sugar?”

A boyfriend, he means, a beau, a lover, a partner, a suitor. Do I? “No,” you decide. “No, he’s just a regular friend. Really.”

Willis chomps on his cherry cobbler muffin. His smirk stretches into a grin. “Sure he is.”

“Okay. You called and asked for muffins, and the muffins have been delivered. Now I gotta go. I have a hell of an order to finish for tomorrow. Which reminds me…” You take the folded piece of yellow legal pad paper out of your shorts pocket and open it to read the address of the Targaryen residence. “Where is 1066 Loch Raven Terrace? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Oh, that’s in a brand new development, real highfalutin, mansions and all. That’s where the Jade Dragon folks are livin’. You gotta go way down 401 towards Lake Verret. Turn onto Owlet, then Egret, then Loch Raven.”

You snatch a blue pen out of the mug on his desk—World’s Best Cop, it says—to scribble the directions down on your paper. “Great. Thanks. Why’d they name it that? We don’t even have ravens in Louisiana.”

“Maybe they got ‘em back in England and the Rockefellers want to feel right at home.”

You nod. This makes sense; this is a sufficiently egotistical explanation. You check the clock on the wall; it’s almost time to get Cadi from school. “You’re picking up Cadi tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah. ‘Round 8:00, as usual.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

Willis asks longingly, looking nowhere in particular: “Remember when we were gonna go to Mexico for our anniversary?”

“Yeah. And I remember when we didn’t.”

He shrugs, perhaps regretful, mourning some hypothetical versions of yourselves. “I got busy. I got lazy.”

“We would have ended up in the same place, Willis. It just might have taken longer.”

“Sure,” he mutters, but he doesn’t sound like he believes it. He’s reaching for his second muffin as you push through the glass door and step out into the sweltering afternoon sunlight.

Twenty minutes later, you’re rolling into your driveway: windows down, cicadas screeching, a flock of pelicans flapping by overhead, Cadi singing along to Jump by Van Halen. But when you cut the engine, you catch a glimpse of something strange in your rearview mirror. You have a visitor. He’s coasting down the driveway in his red Audi Quattro, displacing a grey wave of gravel. You and Cadi climb out of your Celebrity to greet him.

“Aemond?” you say, hands on your hips, a growing involuntary smile. You weren’t supposed to see him until Saturday night, until your talk about the future, a future you both disavowed before starting to get a taste for it. “What are you doing here?!”

“I only have a minute.” When he emerges from the Quattro, he’s dragging his neon teal duffle bag.

Cadi gasps. “More Nintendo games?!”

Aemond chuckles and shakes his head. “Sorry, not quite.”

Cadi groans dramatically and sprints off into the house, probably to devour an ungodly amount of baked goods.

“Don’t eat the Cap’n Crunch Treats!” you shout after her. “They’re for a customer!”

Aemond strolls over to you, wearing jeans, a white tank top, and his Adidas sneakers. His ever-present Marlboro jacket has been forgotten. His hair is a mess, he’s touching his chin restlessly; he really does look like he’s in a rush. “Hey,” he says softly, returning your smile.

You point to his duffle bag. “So you’re not here to tie me up.”

“Regrettably, no.”

“Cadi was really, really happy this morning to learn that you paid for horse camp.”

“I’m glad. Please don’t mention it again.” Aemond glances to his right and spies the alligator sunbathing a few yards away, a deep swampy green and fast asleep. “Oh, fuck!” He grabs your arm, pulls you to him, walks with you briskly towards the house. “You need to get that thing turned into a purse or shoes or something.”

You laugh. “She won’t go after you. She knows you’re bigger than she is.”

“I’m not going to take your word for it.”

In the living room, Aemond tosses his duffle bag on the couch, unzips it, and lifts out a Nikon F3 digital camera. Amir peeks out of the kitchen, flour and powdered sugar dusting his palms, his forearms, his cheeks. “What the…?”

“I need a white wall,” Aemond says distractedly, peering around. The living room walls are pink, the kitchen is mint green, Cadi’s room is yellow, the bathroom is a pale blue. Cadi watches as he darts around the small house, sitting at the kitchen counter and chomping on a ginger molasses cookie. Then Aemond snaps his fingers, remembering. He turns to you. “Your bedroom has white walls.”

“And of course he knows all about your bedroom,” Amir says.

“Come with me,” Aemond orders you.

“Okay…?”

“Cadi too.”

You and Cadi follow Aemond into the bedroom, Amir trotting close behind to satisfy his curiosity. Aemond shows Cadi where to stand against the wall, in a spot where the lighting is good, no shadows, no cracks in the paint, no paintings or photographs. He raises the Nikon and gazes through the viewfinder with his right eye.

“Alright, here we go…just from the shoulders up…yeah, look at me straight-on, just like that…big smile, one two three!” He takes a picture; you can hear the click. “Beautiful! You’re Cindy Crawford! Naomi Campbell! Linda Evangelista! Let’s go again…”

Cadi giggles as she poses: a few respectable smiles, a few silly faces, a few where Aemond asks her to act serious. Cadi says, with an exaggerated grimace: “Look, I’m Mom when Daddy tries to talk to her.” Amir guffaws from the doorway.

“Your turn,” Aemond tells you, waving you over. Aemond directs you like he’s looking for excuses to touch your shoulders, your waist, your face, making minute adjustments that can’t really matter. You’re good at the serious faces, but he’s not satisfied with your smile. “No, a real one. A real smile!”

“I am really smiling!” you protest.

Aemond lowers the camera and raises an eyebrow at you. “You can do better. I’ve seen it.”

And suddenly, effortlessly, you’re beaming.

“There you go,” Aemond says in approval, and snaps a few frames. “Done.”

“What do you need pictures of us for?”

“Just a little project I’m working on,” Aemond says, evasive. He ventures back to the living room without further explanation.

As Aemond zips the Nikon into his duffle bag, you go to the kitchen to see how far Amir has gotten with the Targaryens’ engagement party order. In a dozen different icing colors, he’s painted wildflowers—your favorite since you were Cadi’s age—all over the white buttercream frosting of the vanilla bean cake. You wrap an arm around his waist, rest your head against his chest. “You’re Picasso.”

“I’m a sad, single, four-eyes twink who lives with his Grandma.”

“You’re the love of my life.”

He laughs and smacks a noisy kiss onto your cheek. Aemond watches, amused, thoughtful. He has that same look he had when he walked in on Cadi and Amir dancing to Kyrie, like someone studying a work of art in a museum, something beautiful but arcane, crafted by a foreign stranger who’s been dead for centuries. You start chopping pecans for the hummingbird cake.

“Okay,” Aemond announces with a heavy sigh. “I gotta run.”

“Already?” Cadi says, more disappointed than she’s trying to let on.

“He’s a very busy man,” you tell her. “He’s an engineer. And a historian, too.”

“Just an engineer,” Aemond says, startled.

“Only a historian would think to quiz me about Napoleon to see if I was worthy of his time.”

“You should know something about the man your town was named after.” Aemond leans in close—smoke and cologne, sun and salt—and growls into your ear: “Bye, Cupcake. Taste you later.”

“Bye.” And you watch him leave with his neon teal duffle bag slung over one shoulder, so preoccupied you completely forget about the pecans. Your knife rests on the cutting board, your thoughts are tangled up in what you and Aemond need to talk about tomorrow. I want more than something casual. I do, I really do.

Amir whips you with a dishtowel. “Ho, we’ve got cakes to bake! Let’s go, let’s go!” And then he asks more sympathetically as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose: “How’s your headache?”

“Oh,” you say, only realizing it when he asked. “It’s gone now.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The driveway is long and meandering, brand new but meant to look old, cobblestones lined with meticulously manicured hedges and beasts carved out of marble: bears, dolphins, horses, dragons. On the shores of Lake Verret, out of sight of the rigs and surrounded by towering gnarled southern live oaks older than the United States, you find the Targaryen family residence—manor? estate? chateau?—and park your Chevy Celebrity amidst a sea of Lexuses, Audis, Porsches, Cadillacs, and Alfa Romeos. There are willowy whooping cranes tiptoeing their way across the lawn. A blue merle Great Dane, gigantic and glaring menacingly, lurks behind the white columns of the wraparound front porch.

“That is not a house,” Amir says, gazing up at it through the windshield. “That is a castle.”

“That is where we’re going to make a lot of money if we can impress the Rockefellers.”

“Whoo hoo!” he cheers, climbing out of the car. “San Fran, I hope you’re ready for me!”

You’re dragging the coolers out of the back seat when you are descended upon by a herd of servants, dressed in black so as not to distract from the festivities, so they can fade into the backdrop, so they can become invisible. You and Amir have missed the memo. Your sundress is from Kmart: white with pink zinnias, a cheap and unextraordinary flower for an undistinguished woman from an anonymous town in one of the most impoverished states in the nation. Amir is wearing neon orange shorts and a (very tight) t-shirt from Queen’s Magic Tour that he found at a yard sale.

“These are the cakes?” the head butler asks impatiently, a grim-faced man with salt and pepper hair and spotless white gloves.

“Yeah, that box has the coconut cake, and that one has the key lime, and there are the Cap’n Crunch Treats, and…hey! Wait!” You watch helplessly as the fleet of servants ferry the boxes up the porch steps and into the house. You and Amir stare at each other as you stand abandoned on the cobblestones. “What do we do now?”

“Do we just…leave…?!”

“You made it!” Alicent cries, sailing out of the doorway and swathed in a flowing cream-colored gown. Her large dark eyes are bright and ever-shifting, almost manic; sunlight shimmers on her auburn hair. There is music pouring out behind her, thudding but indistinct, rumbling bass, heady guitar strums. “Come inside. You simply must come in.”

“Oh, we couldn’t impose!” Amir says, already inching towards the house.

“I’ll hear no more of that. You rescued me in my hour of need and I shall not forget it.” Alicent beckons you closer. Her smile is broad and radiant but tight, like she’s having to remember to keep it that way, like her muscles are beginning to ache. “Enjoy some hors d’oeuvres, at least. We have shrimp cocktail, miniature quiches, vol-au-vents, clams casino, Swedish meatballs, little smokies, deviled eggs with paprika, and lots of champagne! Quickly now. There are some people I’d like you to meet.”

Amir glances back at you as you follow him up the porch steps. “People, huh?”

The Great Dane stalks over to you, sniffs, growls deep and low. You freeze, not wanting to provoke it. Its eyes—muddy greenish-brown and swimming with a cunning hostility—remind you of an alligator’s, not the five-footer that idles on your lawn but one of the true monsters of the bayou, old and grizzled and always hungry.

“Vhagar, no!” Alicent scolds, pushing the beast’s massive muzzle away. You imagine it chomping on her hand until it’s gone: one bite, two bites, nothing left but gristle and blood. “No! Bad dog! Go away, go!” The Great Dane reluctantly retreats, glowering from behind a column. “I’m so sorry about that. I’m utterly mortified. She’s terribly unfriendly, but she doesn’t bite. Usually.”

“It’s fine!” you say, heart still racing.

“She belongs to my son. My children…their obsessions confound me. But as mothers, we’re powerless to stop them, aren’t we?”

“I suppose so,” you reply, thinking of Cadi’s wildness, willfulness; though trying to change her would feel wrong.

“Now I certainly owe you a glass of champagne,” Alicent says, billowing like a cloud into the house, her gold heels clicking on the marble floor.

You pass through the doorway and into a vast, crowded foyer, all white and gold: a massive crystalline chandelier, oriental vases and sculptures of men you don’t recognize, paintings on the wall, servants flitting around with trays of hors d’oeuvres. On one table is a tower of champagne glasses, each with a single red cherry marooned inside. Guests mingle in their sport coats and suits and taffeta and sequins, and oddly, none of them are talking about the couple whose engagement is being celebrated. They talk instead about ski trips, polo matches, oil futures, the Soviets, the Saudis, the godawful humidity in this misfortunate corner of the world that they can’t wait to leave. There are stained glass windows everywhere, scenes of suns, stars, sunflowers, dragonflies, lemon trees, sand on beaches. It’s cold, extremely cold, frigid drafts gushing from the air conditioning vents. A Dire Straits song pours not from a Panasonic boombox but from a stereo system with a pair of speakers as tall as you are, Sultans Of Swing. There is a baffling dual chorus clanging around in your skull: Nobody needs this. I’ll never be able to give my daughter anything like this.

Amir whistles as he peers around, eyes wide behind his tortoiseshell glasses. “This place must cost a fortune to cool.”

“I Teleftaia Epithymia.” Alicent struggles with the pronunciation; she speaks slowly, effortfully. “It’s what my husband named the house. What we named the house, I mean. It’s Greek for The Last Desire. As in, no one could possibly want anything more than what this home can offer. Isn’t that poetic? I’ve fallen quite in love with it.” Still, there is that slight nervousness to everything she does, that over-eagerness to please, that restless rushing fidgeting. She wears large gold teardrop earrings that she keeps touching. “We knew we’d have to build something here for the new project on the lake. My son is overseeing it, and he’ll have to spend the next year here, at least. It’s a big step for him. It’s the first drilling operation he’s been given command of. And he—”

“Alicent!” A man comes striding through the crowd. He has shoulder-length pale blonde hair and is wearing a black pinstripe suit, a business suit, authoritative but not joyful. He doesn’t notice you or Amir. You don’t exist to him yet. “Where the hell is the ice sculpture? You said there would be an ice sculpture.”

“It’s on its way, darling. I already called.”

“It should be here now!”

“Viserys, please.” Alicent’s voice is low, embarrassed. “The driver got lost, you know our address is new. They stopped at a payphone and rang us and I straightened it out. They’ll arrive any minute.”

“They better,” the man grumbles. “It’s her family’s crest, for Christ’s sake. We need that ice dragon.”

“This is my husband,” Alicent tells you and Amir, forced smile, pleading eyes, trying to pivot. “Viserys, do you remember the wonderful people I told you about? From Hummingbird Bakery?”

“Bakery?” He seems to have only a vague recollection and even less interest. His gaze is already wandering to other guests. He flashes a grin and waves at a few middle-aged men in grey suits.

“They saved me. They were able to bake us six beautiful cakes with only two days’ notice.”

“And Cap’n Crunch Treats,” Amir adds.

Now Viserys Targaryen does turn his attention to you, and his forehead knits into perturbed wrinkles. His cool blue eyes skate over your Kmart dress, your forearms still dotted with flour and frosting, your cheap pink flats with bows on the front. “It’s a pleasure.” Then he looks to Amir—orange shorts, too-tight shirt that stops at his navel, dogwood flower in his hair—and seems to startle a little. “Alicent, you didn’t mention…uh…he’s…oh well. Too late now. It can’t be helped.”

You and Amir share a glance, polite smiles pasted on your faces. Alicent is abjectly horrified. “Viserys, he’s extremely professional.”

“There are the Lannisters. I must be off.” And the Targaryen family patriarch unceremoniously departs. You and Amir pretend to admire the stained glass windows. Alicent picks at the beds of her fingernails, her rings jangling against each other, her eyes misty.

Criston appears out of nowhere, wearing a white suit with a zebra print shirt underneath. Today his single earring is silver to match. He glides a hand around Alicent’s waist and leans in so close that his nose brushes her fiery hair. “What? What do you need?”

“The ice sculpture people—”

“I’ll wait outside for them,” Criston says, and departs as swiftly as he arrived.

“Please allow me to give you a quick tour of the house,” Alicent says, recovering somewhat. “I’m so grateful for your help. And things keep happening that only make me feel more indebted.” Then she hands each of you a flute of champagne, spins on her heels, and leads you out of the foyer.

Each room is a different color. The living room is red, furniture of lush velvet and Italian leather, bookshelves tall enough to need ladders, a brick fireplace that they’ll never use. Through a pair of French doors you can glimpse a garden and a pool with a water slide. The dining room is a cheerful butter yellow. The kitchen is teal, and like all the rest of the house has stained glass windows to match; these are shaped like a cathedral’s and run all the way up to the ceiling. Servants have arrayed your cakes on the counter, each with a label handwritten in cursive and a set of knives to cut it with. A plate of Cap’n Crunch Treats has been tucked away back by the stove like something they’re a little ashamed of.

Everywhere she goes, Alicent introduces you and Amir to the guests she crosses paths with. “Have you met these heavenly people from Hummingbird Bakery yet? Yes, they’re local, true Louisianans! I see you’ve already helped yourself to a slice of the key lime cake. Isn’t it just fantastic?! And a gorgeous shade of green! It’s so peculiar, you won’t believe what this sweetheart has living in her yard, a real-life alligator…”

You whisper to Amir: “Are we her pet poor people?”

“You might be. I’m proudly undomesticated.”

“Christabel!” Alicent shouts jubilantly as the girl scrolls into the kitchen. “There you are, dear! Come see your cakes.”

Christabel complies, shy but agreeable, peeking out from under a shock of feathery blonde bangs. She wears gleaming diamond earrings and a very bridal white one-shoulder dress, showing quite a bit of skin; you notice that some of the other guests milling about the kitchen cast her judgmental smirks. Christabel asks Alicent, as if she’s afraid of the answer: “He’s not here yet?”

“You know how busy he’s been,” Alicent says, apologetic. You think, remembering the drunk man from the holding cell: Yeah, busy committing misdemeanors. “Those rigs…the S&P 500…anyway, he’ll be home before you know it. In the meantime, let me get you a piece of cake. You’re disappearing, love.”

Christabel skims a palm down the front of her dress self-consciously. “Alright. Just a tiny one.” Then she acknowledges you and Amir. “You must be the masterminds then. Alicent told me all about you.”

Amir says: “About our excellent service and reasonable prices?”

“Yes.” Christabel isn’t skittish like Alicent, but there’s a sort of pensiveness to her, an impression that she is eternally woolgathering. Now she looks at you in particular with a small, warm smile. “And about how beautiful you are.”

Amir laughs at your stunned expression. Me? Beautiful? And the only other person to call you that in years has been Aemond, tangled up with you on your bed in your falling-down house, and you aren’t sure if that counts. “Oh, um, thank you,” you manage. “I really like your dress.”

“Really? I fear people think it’s too…revealing. I liked it fine this morning when I put it on. I didn’t have any notion it might not be suitable. Now I’m feeling like an idiot.”

“No, it’s so nice!” you say, pained for her, one misfit recognizing another. “I never would have thought there was anything wrong with it.”

Alicent gets a plate from the pile on the counter. “What flavor would you like, Christabel?”

“Whatever this one is.” She points to the vanilla bean cake, adorned with Amir’s frosting flowers. “Isn’t it stunning, with all the colors?”

“Amir is the artist,” you say. “I love wildflowers.”

Alicent asks: “Did you have them at your wedding?”

No one bothered. No one remembered. “I wanted to.”

“Wouldn’t that be lovely, Christabel?” Alicent passes her a slice of vanilla bean cake. “Wildflowers? It would be different. Everyone has roses or lilies or something. But wildflowers? I can’t recall ever going to a wedding with wildflowers. Especially if you’re going to get married here. It would fit with the scenery. This place is so exotic, so untamed!”

Christabel nods, taking nibbles of her cake. “Wow, this is delicious! Yes, wildflowers. We could use them for the bouquet, and the corsages…”

“Now we just need a venue.” Alicent sighs. “We’ve had such a terrible time trying to find a good place. Somewhere historic, but not rundown or unsavory. I mean, you can’t get married on an old plantation or something. Bloody hell. How tone-deaf would that be?”

“Very tone-deaf,” Amir concurs.

“There’s a church across the lake in Belle River that you might like,” you say. “The Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens. It’s a historic site, I believe. It’s not very big, but it would make for nice pictures.”

“There’s an idea!” Alicent chirps, then she is stricken as a woman walks into the kitchen. Her fair hair is tied up in a messy bun. She wears a white t-shirt stained with dirt, denim overalls, and Converse Chucks. There is a bluish-green chameleon perched on her shoulder, goggling at everyone with its rotating, conical eyes. “Helaena, put your dress on.”

“Dreamfyre doesn’t like the silk. She won’t sit on my shoulder if I’m wearing it.”

“Helaena, it’s a lizard.” Alicent is exasperated. “Go upstairs, stick it back in its cage, and put your dress on, now.”

“Fine,” Helaena mumbles before wandering off.

“Oh, is that the ice sculpture?!” Alicent cries, peeking out into the foyer through the kitchen doorway. “At last! If you’ll excuse me…” She scurries off to attend to it, Christabel trailing her like a shadow.

You put your empty champagne flute in the sink. “I need to go find a bathroom.”

“I need some shrimp cocktail,” Amir replies. “Do you think I should try to explain the evils of gentrification to people?”

You giggle. “Yeah, definitely. Start with Viserys.” You part ways, Amir headed towards the foyer, you journeying down a mysterious hallway that adjoins the kitchen. The walls are flame orange and decorated with portraits of grave blonde people, each with an outlandish name etched into the plaque beneath its likeness: Baelon, Alyssa, Jaehaerys, Alysanne, Aenys, another Alyssa, Aegon, Rhaenys, Visenya. “This family is so fucking weird,” you mutter to yourself as you continue down the hall.

You find a bathroom, but there’s already a hoard of glamorous, ornamented women waiting outside of it. They’re chattering about which is the superior place to take a holiday, the Canary Islands or the south of France. They stare at you like you’re vermin, a nutria or a raccoon. You keep moving.

At the top of a spiral staircase, you find another hallway. The first door you try is a home movie theater complete with a popcorn machine, neon signage, several rows of seating and a plethora of bean bag chairs. Behind the second door is a bedroom, but it’s not unoccupied. You are greeted by the sight of the man who must be the groom. He looks much like he did when he was detained in a holding cell of the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office: slicked-back hair, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, flushed cheeks, tiny shorts, flip flops. He’s hunched over a desk with three lines of white powder on it. There’s an HP computer—something you’ve never seen in person before—in one corner of the room, a television and collection of hundreds of VHS tapes in the other. His walls are black and cluttered with posters of punk rock bands, the Ramones, the Clash, the Misfits, Minor Threat, Social Distortion, Bad Religion. His Akai stereo is blaring Fight For Your Right by the Beastie Boys.

“What?” the man says agitatedly. There’s powder on his fingers and his nose. “What? What? Who are you? What do you want?”

“Um, sorry, I was just…uh…” There’s some kind of rodent running around on his unmade bed. Its fur is a sandy yellow color, its body freakishly long and four legs stumpy. What the fuck. “I was looking for a bathroom.”

He blinks, muddled recollection. “You’re the cake lady.”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Delivering cakes.”

“Oh. Right.” He points directly across the hall. “There’s a bathroom.”

“Okay, great, thanks.” He starts snorting another line before you’ve even shut the door.

You spend a minute or two in the Targaryens’ lilac-colored bathroom, paintings of the night sky hung on the walls—comets, moons, stars, galaxies—and amethyst geodes on the sink, a stained glass window with a scene of a lavender field. By the time you navigate back down to the kitchen, the man is there. He’s eating a Cap’n Crunch Treat, cocaine still streaked across his pink face and caught in his wisp of a mustache.

“You did this,” he says. “I know you did. It’s too good to be anyone but you.”

With his hand that’s not holding the Cap’n Crunch Treat, he’s cradling the lean rodent against his bare chest like an infant. “What is that? A weasel?”

“It’s a ferret. His name is Sunfyre.” The man nods to a photograph pinned to the refrigerator with magnets shaped like miniature oil rigs. There are two people in the frame, a woman and a girl, their cheeks squished together as they laugh on a pink sand beach of some topical island you’ll never visit. “That’s my dad’s first wife.”

“He’s divorced?”

“Widowed. She died in a car accident.” He taps on the girl in the picture, perhaps Cadi’s age. “That’s my half-sister Rhaenyra. She’s an Olympic fencer. She lives in the Lake District and fucks our uncle.”

You shake your head. You must have misheard him. “She what?”

“Yeah, I know how it sounds. I’m not kidding. She lives in a castle and fucks our uncle and has kids with him. Fucking sick, man. And I’m the screwup? Because I like coke and strippers? I’m supposed to feel bad about that? Bite me, Viserys.” He grabs a second Cap’n Crunch Treat and gestures for you to follow him into the foyer. “Come on. You need some champagne.”

You chuckle. Mental or not, there’s something likeable about him…though you can’t say you envy Christabel. To be married to someone like this man must be hellish. Now, to be married to someone like Aemond… “I’ve already had a glass.”

“Okay, well I need some champagne, and I don’t want to go out there alone.” His flip flops slap noisily against the marble floor as he plods out of the kitchen. He looks back to see if you’re following, and then you hurry after him. The heir to the Jade Dragon fortune weaves through the crowd, ignoring everyone and being ignored in return. In the packed foyer, he plucks a flute of champagne from the tower and chugs it. He eats the cherry and holds up the stem. “You know how to tie these with your tongue?”

“No, I definitely do not.”

“I do,” he announces proudly. He shoves the stem in his mouth, wiggles it around for a while, accidentally swallows it and has to hack it back up. He spits the cherry stem onto the pristine white floor, attracting a few grimaces. “Wait. Wait. Let me try again.” He reaches for another glass of champagne. The opening notes of Asia’s Heat Of The Moment boom from the speakers.

You give him a sympathetic smile. “Pre-wedding jitters?”

He snorts. “I’m not the one getting married.”

“Wait, you’re not?”

He cackles, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “I already have a wife. Stephanie, she’s a princess from Monaco. Right now she’s in Ibiza or something. I haven’t seen her since New Year’s. This New Year’s? Last New Year’s? I’m not sure. Maybe it was the Grand Prix. I remember a lot of confetti.”

You gape at him. “So who’s getting married?”

“My brother Aemond.”

“Who?!”

He points with his Cap’n Crunch Treat. Across the foyer by the front door, Aemond is grinning and accepting congratulations from a gaggle of men in suits: black, grey, navy, tan. Aemond himself is wearing emerald green, dark and luxurious and striking and expensive, because he’s a Targaryen who’s marrying a noblewoman and he’s an oil tycoon and a millionaire and he is most certainly not single and not looking to change that.

“You fucking liar,” you hiss.

The man with the coke in his mustache peers over at you. “Huh?”

You can’t tear your eyes away from Aemond. You feel scarlet rage soaking into you drip by drip, you feel the blood turning hot beneath your skin. You shouldn’t be this upset over a man you barely know, you don’t understand why you are. Except part of you does, and it’s heartbreaking, and it’s humiliating beyond words. Of course he’s marrying someone like Christabel. Of course he’d never choose me.

Aemond bids farewell to his well-wishers, and as he turns away from them his right eye catches on you. From across the room, his face shifts from disbelief to astonishment to horror. His jaw drops open. The flute of champagne he’d been clasping shatters against the marble floor. Immediately, a flock of servants materialize to clean up the mess. You flee from the foyer to the living room, through the French doors, into the garden. It’s midday and hot as hell, humid, swampy, suffocating to the British aristocrats that fill the house. You don’t see anyone else outside. You run past the swimming pool and through cobblestone trails bordered by blue cardinal flowers, orange coneflowers, coral honeysuckle, resurrection ferns, maypops, white sage, firewheels, magnolias, cinnamon ferns. You stop at the edge of a fish pond larger than your kitchen and glare down into the water, trying not to let tears blur your vision as glimmers of scales—red, orange, black, white, gold—dart beneath the transparent rippling water.

I have to go back inside. I can’t leave without Amir. I can’t leave without formally saying goodbye to Alicent and thanking her for her hospitality and licking the boots of these people so they’ll throw just enough cash at me to keep a roof over my daughter’s head.

You hear hurried footsteps; Aemond appears on the cobblestones. He’s found you, but that’s as far ahead as he’s planned. He holds his hands open, not knowing what to say.

“You told me you didn’t have a girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She’s your fiancée, that’s worse, don’t you get how that’s worse?!”

“Okay, this looks bad, but it’s not what you think—”

“You’re marrying her, right?” you demand, and he hesitates. “Right?!”

“Yes,” Aemond admits, and it feels like knuckles to your stomach.

“Then you’re a liar and a cheater.”

“It’s not…it’s…” He gestures frantically, not knowing how to explain, how to translate it into words you’ll understand. “There’s not an expectation of fidelity.”

“Does Christabel know that?”

“That’s the thing, that’s what you don’t get, it’s not like that between us. We don’t discuss it, we’re not…” More vague, frenzied gestures. “We’re not…um…” He groans, rubbing his scarred forehead. “We’re not fucking. At all. Nothing close to it. It’s not a physical relationship yet.”

“But she doesn’t know about me.”

“No, God no, of course not.”

“So she thinks you’re…abstinent…?”

He sighs, defeated. “I don’t know. I don’t really care, honestly.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping with her?”

“Because we can’t until we’re married.”

“I’m sorry, are you Pilgrims?! Are you time travelers from the 1400s?!”

“It’s her family’s standards,” Aemond says. “It’s not uncommon for women of her…status.”

“Girl,” you pitch at him. “She’s a girl. How old is she? Eighteen?”

“Nineteen.”

You’re furious that she exists; you’re furious on her behalf. “And she’s planning her fairytale wedding while you collect local women to act out your kinky fantasies with.”

“One woman,” Aemond says softly.

“What?”

“There’s one woman currently. Just you.”

You shake your head, swiping enraged tears from your cheeks. “Why are you marrying her?”

“It’s sort of an…arranged thing.”

You stare at him. “Someone set you up?”

“My father knows her father. They think it’s a good match. Her family needs money, my father wants ties to the nobility. She’s one of probably five people on this planet that he would approve of. And she seems enthusiastic about it, so it’s happening.”

“Aemond, that is an insanely bad idea.”

“I have to do it.”

“You’re marrying her because your dad told you to?!” You explode. “Are you serious?! Everyone with the sole exception of Amir told me to stay with Willis, my friends, my family, my neighbors, my bakery customers, the checkout ladies at the Piggly Wiggly, my goddamn mailman, my father was in the hospital dying of lung cancer saying that his last wish was for me to never get divorced, and I still went through with it because I knew it was the right thing to do and no one was going to stop me!”

“I don’t want to talk about Willis,” Aemond snaps.

“Well, he’s kind of an inescapable aspect of my existence, so if I can get over it I’m sure you can too.”

“I hate that guy,” Aemond seethes, and you have no idea how to respond. You gaze down into the pond and watch scales and fins and tails fly like bullets beneath the surface.

“Those are the biggest goldfish I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“They’re koi,” Aemond scoffs.

“Oh, is that what they teach people about at Imperial College in London? Fancy fucking fish?”

“Don’t be a bitch to me, just…just give me a second, I didn’t think I was going to have this conversation until tonight, this is not how I wanted it to go.”

You say quietly, betrayed: “You’re a robber baron.”

“What? Like Vanderbilt or Rockefeller, that kind of robber baron, that’s who you think I am?!”

“That’s who you are! You hoard and exploit and use and pollute and destroy! I don’t destroy things, I create them!”

“You bake cupcakes!”

“And I don’t hurt anyone by doing it!”

“You are so goddamn delusional, you are completely insane—”

You start counting out crimes on your fingers. “I don’t kill people, I don’t endanger the Earth, I didn’t irrevocably screw up Ketchikan, Alaska—”

“So I’m terrible because I want to bring jobs to your pathetic, dead-end town?! Because I want there to be a few less pregnant teenagers and more high school diplomas? That makes me a war criminal, that puts me right up there with Jaruzelski or Pinochet?!” He realizes what he’s said when he sees the wounded fury unfold on your face. “Oh fuck. Come on, I didn’t mean you.”

“No, you just meant people who are exactly like me in every way.”

“You know what? I take it back,” Aemond says, knife-sharp, wrathful. “I did mean you. Because you are wasting your life here, and you’re too stubborn or too scared or too much of both to recognize an opportunity to have something more. Don’t you think you deserve better? Don’t you think your kid deserves better?”

“I built something here, I made a future for myself and my daughter here, and you’re going to work our people to death and poison the lake and then pack up and leave when it all goes wrong because that’s what oil tycoons do! The opportunity is for you, not us! More mansions, more champagne, more coke, more demented pets!”

“Then leave! Get in your car and drive back to your sad, structurally unsound house and live happily ever after with whatever braindead barbarian you marry next.”

“I will,” you pitch back. “Enjoy being married to your marquess.”

“She’s not a marquess. Her dad is the marquess. She won’t inherit the title until he dies.”

“Enjoy being married to your future marquess, you pretentious prick.”

“Women can’t be marquesses. They can only be marchionesses.”

“Yeah, you’re so smart. I’m really impressed. At least I don’t have to tie people to beds to delude myself into thinking I have some semblance of control over my life.”

You storm through the garden and back into the house as Aemond watches you, violently disappointed. You yank open one of the French doors and slip into the midst of the festivities. Illustrious guests are still mingling, toasting, boasting, scrutinizing you skeptically when they notice you at all. In the archway between the living room and the foyer, Amir joins you, sipping a flute of champagne.

“Hey, ho! Did you get lost? Did you find the cellar where they keep the bodies of their political enemies?” He has eaten so many hors d’oeuvres he’s basically waddling. “You look stressed. How about a nice shrimp cocktail?” He follows your eyeline to where Aemond is trying to sneak covertly into the living room through the French doors. Christabel intercepts him, relieved that he’s finally arrived, beaming, sparkling, entirely unaware of any conflict. Aemond conjures up a smile, fond yet guarded. She doesn’t touch him, and he doesn’t touch her either. He clasps his hands behind his back instead. “Is that…?!”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s…?!”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Amir says. “Oh.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his dark eyes wide and shellshocked. “We should have made him buy all of us Nintendos and a week at horse camp.”

“I want to go home.”

“You got it, let me just grab a few more of those Swedish meatballs—”

“Amir,” you say, tears brimming in your eyes. “I really want to go home.”

“Okay, okay.” He slings an arm around your shoulder, smacks a kiss against your temple, walks with you towards the front door. “Then let’s go home.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you

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honeyshiddendesire · 14 days

Text

I’ll Teach You

Warnings: INCEST PLAY (big sis/little brother)! Bimbofication! Slut Training! Vaginal penetration! Fingering! Oral sex! (M) throat fucking/gagging/choking all the works! Praise & degradation kink! Size kink! Older reader! Spanking! Hair pulling! Whore training!

POSSIBLE DARK/DEAD DOVE CONTENT

*you've been warned so don't come for me*

Summary: Eustass was the friend to your little brother, Killer. As you’re on the phone he overhears you complaining to your mom that no one likes you in your class. Confronting you about it he tells you that your mama bluffed so she wouldn’t hurt your feelings but he was willing to help you.

*banner*

“Guys want a slut.”

“That big brain of yours is good for later as a wife but right now … guys wanna see how well you take a cock.”

“Ah fuck- that’s it big sis look at you go.” Eustass had a wicked grin as he looked down at you. Your hair wrapped in his big hands as he thrust into your stretched open mouth. Gagging you with the heavy girth as he pinched your nose for a few seconds before pulling you off to spit in your mouth.

“No idea how fuckin’ pretty you look right now- shit- this is how you should be everyday.” Rubbing his large hand all over your face to smear the tears, mascara, precum & spit that was there. Smushing your cheeks together roughly making you whimper before he tapped his cock back onto your lips. Rubbing the leaky tip on your lips like he was trying to apply lipstick made of his seed.

“You look wrecked. It’s so fucking hot.”

Opening your tongue right up like he taught you had him barking out a proud laugh. Wrapping your hair in a ponytail he fucked his cock back into your obedient throat. “There we fuckin’ go big sis. That’s what the hell I’m talkin about.”

“Fuuuuuck. If you’re this good at suckin’ dick then I can’t wait to see that pussy game.” Eustass grunted dropping his head back as he put a leg on the couch that you knelt in front of. Putting his hands on the back of the couch he thrust into your throat, pinning you against the sofa.

“Mmphhh!” You gagged against his meaty cock as he fucked your face into the side of the couch. It was hot how he just used your face like he would your cunt. It made you sneak a hand under your skirt, pushing your soaked panties to the side with a muffled sigh.

“You’re such a good listener big sis -fuck- fast learner too. Shit big sis can’t believe you need me teaching you how to be a slut.“ Eustass’ voice was breathy as he fucked into your throat, groaning when he felt you claw his thigh.

Pulling back with a coo he looked at you gasping for air, his heavy cock pushing against your cheek making you whimper. Tongue coming out again with heavy pants, eyes dazed as you looked up at Eustass for his next moves.

“Say what I taught you.” Eustass growled out as he grabbed your hair. Sitting on the couch with you on your knees, hair in his hand waiting on your response.

“P-please use me. I need your cock to fuck me in my slutty holes and fill me full of your cum.” You answer while spreading your legs for him to see how soaked you were. The bold action making him hum with satisfaction, “Good girl. See I knew my big sis had the potential to be the best cock slut ever. Okay, come ride my dick. I wanna see that pussy split apart.”

“But y-you’re so big.” You whimper making him tug your hair to pull you close. “I wasn’t asking sis. You’re my little freeuse slut and that means you hop on and ride me when I tell you to.”

Leaning back he put his hands on the back of the couch lounging as he waited on you. “Besides it’s dick…it’s good for you, think of it like a vitamin. Vitamin D. Ha! Ya need it to live so hurry up and start ridin’.” He barked out patting his thigh.

Standing up you removed the rest of your clothes making him whistle as he spun his finger around. You did a slow turn letting his eyes rake over your body like the piece of meat he wanted you to be. “Pretty one ain’t ya sis.” Eustass teased as he spanked your ass when it was in front of his face.

“Hop on this cock, slut.” He groaned out as he stroked his thick cock, thumb running over his leaky tip. Licking his lips as he watched you climb on top and spread your pussy open. “Yeah, just like that.”

“Nngh ahh! Fuck! Kidd~it’s too big still.” You whimpered with teary eyes as his thick cockhead opened up your wet pussy. “Ahhhh wait Kidd! Too big it h-hurts.” You plead going to lift yourself back up but his calloused hands on your hips pull you down roughly. Thrusting his veiny cock up as he pulls you down flush to his hips.

“Shhhh just take it like a good girl and quit cryin’ sis. Fuck- bimbos do as they’re told. Period.” He growled as he slammed you down on his dick making you scream. The tip instantly slapping into your sweet spot with its slight curve and fat tip.

Kidd smirked when he felt your pussy clench and flutter around him, wetness coating the base of his cock making his mouth water. “Tight little cunt you got.”

Eustass gripped your ass cheeks, kneading and spreading them apart before grinding you on his cock. “Ahhh! Fuckfuckfuck!” You moan out as his tip rolls into your spot. Pulling his hand back before swatting it down on your ass causing you to yelp. Lifting you up to the tip before bringing you back down with a deep moan. Raspy and heavy as he threw his head back against the couch.

“Fuck - I needed this.” Eustass grunted as he manhandled you on his cock, your hands clawing at his massive shoulders. “Men need a nice cunt to bully their stress in- fuck- you were made for this shit sis.” Hearing him praise and objectify you made your body burn in shameful desire.

You felt sexy like you wanted to please him. Knowing that just your pretty pussy is the cure to a man’s rough day only makes you wetter. All those pointless awkward conversations out the window knowing all you needed to do was relinquish control, submit to your slutty side and spread your legs. The realization was incredible and you found yourself bouncing on his cock with newfound enthusiasm.

“Hell yeah get in to it. Lil nerd finally letting go and being the whore she was meant to be. So fuckin perfect. That’s it sis, turn off that big brain of yours until all that’s left is takin dick.” Eustass’ words put you in a trance and you couldn’t help the noises that it caused.

Wet slapping sounds, squishing walls and moans filled the living room as you rode the hell out of Eustass. Thick cock hitting all the right spots till you were throwing your arms around him begging to let you cum. “Pleasepleaseplease lemme cum lil brother please. I’ve been good right? Please let me cum! You can cum inside me too! Please I just need it so bad~!” You begged perfectly for the man, he couldn’t have been more proud of the slut he created.

Taking you and pinning you down to the couch he fucked into your cunt. Legs on his shoulders as he leaned over you, fucking your pussy deeper. Screams leaving you as your back arched. “Yes thank you! I need your cock all the time please~!” Your words weren’t even registering in your brain at this point and Kidd loved it.

“I’m tellin’ ya Y/N you’re a natural. Honestly I might have to keep you for myself. Shhiiit-fuck I’ma cum. Dammit not before you.” Kidd growled as he felt himself twitch. Pushing your legs back till your knees were at your ears he began thrusting harder.

“Eustass! Lil-little brother! You’re making me so full.” You whine and it makes Kidd’s brow twitch.

“No way in hell I’m coming before you nerd.” He grunted as he rubbed your aching clit, fingers rubbing over your quickly with all your slick that dripped out. “I wanna see you squirt on my cock like a good bimbo . Tongue hanging out panting like a little bitch while I’m pumpin’ this pussy full.”

“Anything you want, brother please ~!” Your hands clawing at the cushions with whines and broken moans. “Wanna cum on my cock? Show me what all these guys are missing.” Kidd groaned as he felt your gooey walls tugging him in, dripping to his balls that slapped into you. Sticking your tongue out you stared at him with a pleasing expression he was becoming obsessed with.

“That’s my fast learner.” Eustass smirks as he spits into your open mouth. Enjoying the whimper as you swallow and open back up to repeat it once more. “So fucking good.”

“Cum with me sis. Cum all over your little brother’s big fat cock.” Eustass grinned as he slapped your clit a couple times before rubbing it again.

“Ahhhh haaa nnngh fuuuuuckkmeeeeeee! EUSTASS!”

Eustass bit his lip to cover up the whimper that left him as your pussy clamped down on his cock. Wetness gushing out to splash back in your face had him fucking his cum into your cunt. “Damn that’s hot.”

“Take this load babe.” Kidd grunted as he rocked into your cunt, cum seeping out the side a bit. A groan leaving him as you clenched and fluttered around him squirming.

“S’to much K-Kidd~” You whine but Eustass only laughs shaking his head. “Nah there’s still a lot you need to learn. For now~ you didn’t do too bad…sis.”

“Ugh can’t believe you had me call you that!” You grumbled swatting his chest as he pulls you on his lap sitting down. Practically giving you whiplash from the transition. Eustass only slapped your ass with a laugh.

“Ah What can I say? If you run into a guy like me he’ll be thankful you’re already trained in the nasty shit.”

“Thought you were gonna keep me?” You teased him pinching his cheeks causing Kidd to blush.

“I m-mean w-why would I do that…y-you’re a total nerd.” His flustered expression was cute and you stored it mentally for later.

“Good thing you’re teaching me to be the perfect bimbo whore right lil brother?”

#one piece #one piece smut #honeys works 🍯#one piece eustass kid #eustass kid one piece #captain eustass kid #eustass captain kidd #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #eustass kid x reader #one piece eustass #one piece Eustass smut #eustass kid smut #eustass kidd smut #one piece x female reader #x female reader #eustass x reader #eustass one piece smut #that's my mannnnnn 🥵🥵🫶❤️‍🔥

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luveline · 1 year

Note

omg can you please write girldad aaron with reader if you can!! i know you would kill it

ty for ur request! mom!reader

You and Jack bring the groceries in as a team. He's been your best helper ever since you met, polite and chivalrous as his dad. And now that Dove is teething and loathes to go to the grocery store with you, it's just you and Jack.

That means Jack gets to pick what you eat for dinner most nights, and Aaron and Dove get a lot of one on one time they hadn't necessarily had before. Which isn't to say Aaron isn't as devoted as he can be, he is, he's the best dad in the world, but Dove had shown a lot of favouritism during her first year. Understandably, because Aaron continues to work his unpredictable, sometimes long-distance job, and so Dove had known you better. Truth be told, you sometimes keep Jack a little bit longer in the stores so they can have their time, and you can have yours.

"Thanks, handsome," you say, holding the door open so Jack can parade inside with a grocery bag occluding most of his vision.

"You're welcome. Dad, Dove, we're back!"

You hear Aaron's groaning laugh, his voice distant but distinct. "There's your brother," he says.

"And your mom," you say, not loud but enough for Aaron to amend his talking as he appears in the doorway.

Dove pulled against his chest, hair ruffled, he says, "And mommy. Wow, did she get prettier?"

You could roll your eyes at him. He's flirting in such a bold way that you could write it off, but he's nothing if not genuine. He never lies to you, never fluffs anything up. You know he means it, and that makes you flustered enough to avoid his gaze and follow Jack into the kitchen.

Dove mumbles something.

"She did," Aaron says agreeably.

Jack's already tipped the groceries out on the table and opened the refrigerator to start putting things away. Your helper, your favourite boy. You pet the top of his head as you pass and slide your own bags onto the countertop.

Aaron comes up behind you. "Was it," — he kisses your cheek — "okay?"

"The store?" you ask softly, pleased when he presses another kiss on top of the first, his free arm wrapping around your waist. "It was perfect. We got everything, didn't we, Jack?"

"Everything and extra."

Your turn, you kiss the top of Dove's small head and beam when she gets shy. You kiss her a couple more times for good measure until her dad starts grumbling, and you have to give him one too.

"Wait, for fairness," you say, wriggling out of his hold to track down your baby. You bend over Jack where he's putting veggies away in the veggie drawer and stroke the hair back from his forehead and kiss his temple.

"This family is so kissy," he says, sounding neither mad nor happy about it.

"This family is so kissable," you correct lightly. "If you don't want one, just tell me. I'll keep them all for you sister."

He tips his head back. "I think dad has her covered."

You turn to see what he's talking about. Dove and Aaron have fallen into their own world. He's pulled up high on his chest and she's giving it large, hands at his neck and little face wormed under his jaw. You think she's kissing him.

"Oh, thank you," he coos, hand covering the entire breadth of her back, "thank you, sweetheart. I love you."

So casually intimate. You find yourself hugging Jack with a terrible, goofy smile on your face as they cuddle. Dove lifts her head and touches Aaron's mouth, tiny fingers poking at his cupid's bow. He smiles at her. It's the softest smile you've ever seen.

"Wrapped around her finger," you whisper to Jack.

Aaron hears you, meeting your eyes over Dove's head. "Isn't it like that with all of you?"

He's right. There's never been a man more whipped for his love, or more dedicated to raising happy, healthy kids.

You shrug at him and turn back to Jack, who probably doesn't want to be hugged anymore but hasn't said otherwise, the two of you chilled by the cold fridge. "I don't know what he's talking about."

Jack giggles. "Me neither."

"Don't team up on me."

"You've already made your team," you say.

You finish putting the groceries away and thank Jack for his helpfulness with a genuine proclamation and three cookies of his choosing from the cookie jar.

"Three," Aaron says.

"You gave Dove two pudding cups yesterday. Don't act like you didn't. If you can spoil her, I can spoil him."

He beams at you and you beam at him.

"The second was an accident," he admits, turning Dove to face you. "She was giving me that look-"

"That look-"

"With the teary eyes."

"Yuh-huh," you say.

One arm between her legs, the other over her chest like a seatbelt, he and Dove both look at you with fondness, blinking at the same time.

She always looks so, so small in his arms.

"We're really good at this," you say.

He doesn't have to ask what you mean. "I know."

Dove squirms in his arms and he tucks her up tight in the crook of his neck, anticipating a teething tantrum. He's done a lot of things with his hands, you know, not all of them gentle, but he holds Dove with unending love and care.

"Alright, honey," he murmurs into her crown. "You're alright."

With Aaron as her dad, you don't have any doubts.

#aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #mom!reader

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thedivinershiddenarchive · 1 year

Text

the childhood best friend.

CHARACTERS ; yandere!imaginary friend!childe;tartaglia x fem!reader

SUMMARY ; It's been a while that you've last met your imaginary friend, more specifically, your childhood one. But his intentions with you are different. Now, he's changed. He's much more forceful and possesive and now he can't take in the sight of you being miserable. And he wants to fix that, but he made it much worse for you.

CONTENT ; dub-con, imaginary friends, possesiveness and jealousy, usage of "(little) dove/girlie/sweet girl/darling/sweetheart", childe can read/hear your thoughts, riding, fingering, biting and sucking, teasing, mentally-broken reader, very minor character death, a bit of gaslighting, very small implication of manipulation, praise kink, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampies, supernatural or is it all in your head?

masterlist | tag system | 17-, MASC-ALIGNED DNI!

“Ginger!” you cheered, running up to the ginger that was playing alone on the sandbox. The moment his eyes laid on you, he stood up quickly and sprinted towards you, hugging your figure and swinging you around with a laugh. “Dove, you’re here!”

“Of course I would be! Where else do I go when I play?” you pout and he chuckled, “Well, your other friends.”

“You mean the ones that I’ve left to travel somewhere else? Yeah right.” you puffed your cheeks, causing him to pinch them. “Hey!” you grinned and ran up to him and pinched him, causing the boy to snicker. “Can’t help it.”

“I just realized you’ve only been calling me ‘Ginger’ a lot.. I think it’s time for me to have a real name like a real person!” he lilted and you gripped your chin, thinking hard on what name you’ll give him. Hah, no wonder you haven’t given him a title, none stuck out to him and you couldn’t think of anything. “I don’t know at all…” you whine and he pouts.

“[Y/N], can you come with me? I need to buy some Ajax detergent so I can clean the house a bit.” your mother calls out from the bench, standing up and gathering her things laying on the seat and you feel your smile widened. “Ajax!” you pointed at him and you saw Ajax’s eyes glimmer.

“I’ll take it! It sounds so good!” you felt proud, even putting your hands on your hips, pleased with his given name despite getting it from a cleaning product. “[Y/N]!” your mom calls you again and you jump a bit and scurry over her, giving your hand to your friend and he takes it, walking with you towards the woman who was waiting for you with a confused face. “What is this girl into right now?”

“Don’t be scared, I’m here!” Ajax cooed as he held you close to him, you weren’t a big fan of horror movies, especially when you’re so young. Having nightmares aren’t a normal occurrence but you were thankful to have the ginger close to you so you could feel safe.

“You can open your eyes now,” you trusted his words and open them, you feel him hold your hand and lips placed on your knuckles. You leaned onto him more, his touch… Felt so real.

Your promise started here, out of the moment, you confessed that you wanted to be friends ‘til the end. That you want him to be near you and have each moment between the two of you be fun and amazing. You just didn’t know how this promise has improved your relationship with each other the older you got, you may or may not have regretted making that. You know how he likes his promises to be kept and takes them seriously.

You were about eight years old when you started making up imaginary friends, how lonely were you that you used this to cope? Now you have three more people in your jumbled mind to tolerate. Well, they aren’t that bad. They can’t hurt you in any type of way but it does stress you out more.

Now you’re a twenty year old working a dead-end job, you’ve never encountered them ever again. Even after the promise you’ve made with “Ajax” that you guys will still be connected, he hasn’t appeared, thankfully. Hell, it's been so long that you don't even know what he looks like now.

“Get these papers done by the end of your shift, [Y/N].” your co-worker demanded, dropping a stack of paperwork on your desk and leaving you with it. You let out a frustrated groan and almost slammed your fist down the table but you kept your cool.

This will take a while.

You tiredly flopped on your couch, you would’ve slept right there right now if it weren’t for something sinking on the cushion. You exasperatedly looked over your shoulder to see someone sitting on it. You immediately widened your eyes in horror, knowing that someone might have broken into your house and you quickly got up.

What you didn’t expect was a normal-looking teenage boy who looked like he just got out of bed, but the said boy looked familiar. Way too familiar. That tired grin and blue ocean eyes that showed no light whatsoever looking right at yours. “Did I disturb you, dove?”

Dove? Why did that feel like you’ve heard this before. Maybe you did but you’re just forgetful. “I’ll take that as a yes, you did have a hard time at work. Not like it’s a foreign sight to see you on your desk as you handle those pesky paperwork. Maybe that’s why you don’t have time for me anymore..” that whiney voice, how did he know all that? I mean, yeah it’s obvious that you were a minimum wage worker but literally anyone with your job can be tired of it. But what creeped you out is that out of all the employees that worked at your place, you were the one who he spied on the most.

“Who are you?” you questioned, raising your brow in suspicion. He only chuckled loudly, almost psychotically. “You still don’t remember me? Ah… When was the last time you’ve imagined me again…? Right, when your stupid crush rejected you at work and that was a year ago. Or maybe two..? Hah, even I forgot,” you sweat, his brows knitted together and his crooked smile widening, “it’s been that long, huh?”

“You didn’t tell me who you are, ginger..” you scowled, moving away, picking your phone up from your bag in case. “Ginger.” he mutters, cupping his cheek with his palm. That nickname was anything but unfamiliar.

“Is that really your name?”

“No way. Seriously, if you don’t know my name, should I just tell you?”

“Should’ve done that when we first met.”

“First met? I promise you this, [Y/N]. We’ve met a lot. And I don’t take my promises lightly.” it came out as a growl, you know better than to not piss him off but he did make you angry at first. Though that isn’t an excuse to be straight up dead right now.

“Call me Ajax, okay, little dove?” Ajax whispers when he crawls to you to get closer to your ear, his deep voice is much more clearer and it makes you shiver. And scared. Instead of hearing one voice, you hear multiple. You hear four in total, you feel unsafe, afraid.

You pushed him away but he caught your wrists in his and gave you a playful grin, “Does it ring a bell?” Indeed it does. Ajax, The one who comforted you through the harsh rejection of your co-worker, the one who played with you for so long when your friends couldn’t keep in contact with you because of you constantly moving out.

“You make a promise, you keep it. Or the ice breaks your tongue and you never lie again.” The man spoke those very specific lines from the nursery rhyme he got from TV. “And we promised to be together, be friends ‘til the end. I would’ve actually stayed if you hadn't kept me away for so long.”

He pushed you on the couch and you struggled against his hold. What is this? He was supposed to be an imaginary friend! Someone who can’t hurt you, someone who can’t hold you physically, so why can he touch you?

“Ouch, I’m hurt. You only think of me as an imaginary friend? Someone who can’t touch you like this?” he emphasizes with a knee on your clothed crotch, rubbing lightly. “I can hear your thoughts, girlie. Because I’m just a figment of your mind, so it’s interesting hearing what you have in that brain of yours.”

“Stop!” you push him, kick him, anything, but he wouldn’t budge. It looked like he wasn’t even bothered with the fight you’re trying to put in. “Why should I stop?”

You’re thinking hard, thinking of him just disappearing. To stop his rough grip on your body. Your breathing quickens when his teeth touch your neck, his tongue working on your skin and sucking on it.

You quickly went quiet when the voices in your head told you to, you didn’t know what had come to you. You didn’t know why you listened to it, you know that what you did was on command and that you no longer have control.

“Finally, you shut up. It was getting really frustrating to deal with you being noisy.” he had you on his lap, lightly grinding his tented crotch against your clothed pussy, moaning quietly as his cock slowly stimulated.

Ajax tickled your skirt before bunching it up and stroking your cunt through the fabric of your panties, you hate your body for reacting to it. You know you don’t want it, no. But your body reacts differently from what you’re thinking right now. “Aww, look how wet you got? Do you actually like this?”

“I thought you could read my thoughts, asshole. Of course I don’t.”

“Then why are you getting wet?” he murmurs, letting his fingers slip in your clothing and into your hole. “Let yourself go for me, babe.“ purring, he connects his lips into yours and drinks up your moans. You absolutely hate how good he makes you feel, even if you didn’t want this. Didn’t want to get fingered by your own imagination.

“Still thinking about that? Even if you’re lost in pleasure?”

“Shut up already..” you grunted as he curled inside of your pussy. He loves the way your nose scrunches as you try not to make too much noise to satisfy him or to let your neighbors hear. You’ll feel embarrassed when they check up on you and see you moaning at nothing.

“Like I said, let yourself go.” he emphasizes with a harsh thrust that has you gripping on his digits tight. Ajax pulls them out and forces them into your mouth to taste yourself, “Suck.” That command alone had you doing what he said. You were afraid of him going too rough on you. And he knows that.

He doesn’t mind how hard you cling onto his shoulder blades, how your teeth bit into the skin of his fingers. He only focused on how good he made you feel to even forget how much of an asshole he was.

Your breath hitches when his lengthy digits hit your throat before pulling them out of your mouth, seeing the string of saliva connected to his fingers. He takes them into his mouth and tastes your saliva mixed with your juices, letting out a satisfied moan from how good you taste.

“You think you’re ready for me, sweet thing?” he said with a hint of persistence in his tone. He must be much needier than you, most likely after the both of you became disconnected for so long.

“N-not yet.”

“Why not? You seem more than ready. Don’t tease me, now.” he pulls your collar towards him, making you fall with him. Ajax was now laying on the couch by his back while you were sitting up on his hard-on.

“Take my pants off. You better take it all once it’s inside.” he demands, a scowl appearing on his face as he sees your hesitant hands trying to unbutton his jeans. “Don’t be so slow. It’s frustrating me.”

You whimpered when his hands gripped your hips, forcing you to roll your crotch over his. He moaned quietly as he continued the procedure until you finally undo his pants. “Touch it already.”

“You’re quite demanding for someone that’s under me.”

“You wanna switch positions then? I don’t mind which way. As long as I can make you fucked out of your mind, I’ll be satisfied.”

You purse your lips, deciding to stay silent, even when he lowers his underwear and palms his length right in front of you, letting out groans of pleasure while he glances at you, begging you to touch him. The sight of his cock had you distracted, the sheer size with the veins popping out. “Are you gonna watch and look pathetic or are you gonna take it for me?”

Ajax forces himself out of his briefs and has you hovering over his cock. He lightly brushes the tip over your wet entrance, letting your juices stain his hard-on until it was dripping on his entire length. You muffled your moans through closed lips, not wanting to satisfy him further.

“You sound and taste so good, I wonder how you feel inside of me.” He grinds upwards, letting you sink into his dick with each roll of his hips. This went for a while ‘til he filled you to the brim with his member. He threw his head back while his nails marked your waist from how hard he was squeezing.

“Feels much more amazing, fuck…” his breath hitches as he sets a pace, plunging upwards that it even starts hitting your cervix from how deep he was. You hated him, even if you haven’t interacted with him for a year. Even if you get wet from his praises.

But it felt so good, he felt so fucking big that he hits inside every sweet spot. Ajax felt the same, how you clenched around him and how your breasts jiggled through the fabric of your loose shirt.

He admitted that he hated watching you from afar, looking miserable. But he hated it more when you cried over a man who didn’t deserve your affection. I mean, it was fine to reject someone but to embarrass them about it? That was what had his blood pumping in anger.

Nobody would know where his body is now nor will they know what happened to him. Now you’re wondering, how could someone get physical when they’re not real? There has to be a reason, right? A reason for how he’s touching you, holding you, and even making you feel so good.

“Mine, all mine. I'm all that you'll ever need...” he growls whilst pulling you towards him and smashing your lips on his, drinking up your gasp and whines. You know how obsessive he can be if you think back on it, jealous of how other kids try to play with you but you always get pulled back by an invisible force.

Ajax has you for himself now. But he has a deal with your other friends so he has to make every second worth it. Even if you can’t take it anymore.

You keep bouncing on his cock, taking in how good it feels with each hit. You grasp on his shoulders so tightly as he continues making sweet sounds into your mouth. “Sweet girl, you feel so good, god..” he snuggles into your pair of breasts, giving them open-mouthed kisses. His saliva dripped on the skin and bruises that he made.

Your bodies were intertwined with one another, sweat can be seen dripping on your foreheads as the both of you continued your rough sessions. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

You could only groan in response, nestling your face on his neck to find comfort in as he continues lunging inside of you. Ajax can’t let you go from how hard he’s holding your waist.

Even as you wail in pleasure and see stars, you still hide your face from him. The twitch of his hips as he empties himself inside of you and long soughs can be heard from near your ear.

You felt comfortable enough to pull out of his neck but the moment you laid your eyes on the supposed man under you, he was gone. You furrow your brows in confusion and look at the lower half of your body to still see that it hasn't changed.

What was that? I mean it was just a figment of your imagination but it felt so real to the point it can touch you… The bruises on your body were still there. You believe that this wasn’t something mental. You were too focused on your thoughts that you didn’t notice the door knocking.

You perk up and quickly wore your panties and used your skirt to hide what was under it. You looked through the peephole to see… nothing? You opened the door to see what was actually outside but you only spotted a picture of you hugging nothing. You went stiff, you could only theorize you were hugging the same ginger-haired boy but he wasn’t there.

You convinced your parents to take a picture at some point and of course, they were weirded out when no one was by your side but they played it off as some innocent childhood play that you were in.

You flipped the picture to see another one attached to it, it was you on the couch trying to push, again, nothing. It’s all invisible. If he isn’t there at all, what was touching you? Why can you feel it when in reality nothing was there?

Now this was something unexplainable but scary. Was it really in your head? You’ll have to learn more somewhere else. But you still have work from nine-to-five. So maybe you can check in the library tomorrow after your shift. Hopefully, you won't meet him again there.

#notsodivininglover ; king’s pages #childe x reader #childe smut #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut

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