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The witch always made Morgan wait. Whether it was text messages, phone calls, or banging on the woman’s door at 1 in the morning, the redhead’s infernal godmother loved to take her fucking time getting back to Morgan. She figured the nightmare got off on exerting control over their interactions, despite complaining constantly that Morgan didn’t text enough, didn’t visit enough. Never, ever enough.
Story of my god damn life.
The door finally swung open a full minute after Morgan first beat on it, and on the other side of the threshold stood Victoria Masters, clad in nothing but a scarlet nightgown that hung open far too much for a woman her age. Morgan avoided staring, but she caught enough of a glimpse that her cheeks flushed, and Masters let out a bark of a laugh as she leaned against the doorframe, her mouth twisting into that toothy grin that Morgan hated so much.
“Evening, Freckles,” Masters drawled, crossing her arms as she looked her former protégé up and down. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks.”
“You won that big Ikariya case, didntcha? Thought you’d be out celebrating or something, not rolling up to your decrepit ol’ godmother’s doorstep. I was asleep, by the way, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t.”
“God you’re in a mood. What is it? Didn’t press your boot firm enough on that DA bitch’s neck? Let her have the last word after beating her ass and now you’re all salty about it?”
“It’s not about the case.”
Not entirely.
Masters’s eyes narrowed, and the shit-eating grin faded.
“Freckles, we both know you only show up here when you’re really fucked up,” she drawled, “so spit it out. Tell your godmother what’s eating ya.”
Morgan’s hands trembled, as what ate her played back in her head.
‘You don’t understand, do you?’
‘…’
‘I hope you do, some day.’
“Just let me in.”
+
Evangeline’s knee stung with every step. It was a walk of shame, one that the shattered teen girl fully deserved. All that effort, the hasty exit from her family gathering, running through the streets in the rain, all that dirt and gravel tearing up her skin…all of it, wasted, up in smoke the moment Evangeline heard those other voices, saw those other girls all around her. Evangeline’s hero moment had been stepped on, all the air let out of it in one fell swoop, and it left her empty.
She should have been happy. She could have been happy, maybe. No one ever wanted to be alone, and now that girl had a whole club to surround herself with. It was a triumph for her. But Evangeline wasn’t happy. She wasn’t angry, either. She was nothing at all, just like always. For a little while, the mask tightly affixed to her face had felt almost…natural. Almost right. But just like every other time, the string holding it on snapped, and all that work tumbled into the abyss, same as it ever was.
She wasn’t heading back home. Evangeline’s feet led her elsewhere, in the opposite direction, bringing her into what she anticipated would be arms wide open, ready to embrace her, pat her on the back, tell her it would be alright, even if she wouldn’t believe a word of it. Her parents wouldn’t notice her absence until the morning, anyway, and Evangeline was well-practiced in sneaking in and out of her modest little house. She could spend all night wandering the streets and they would be none the wiser.
But Evangeline had had enough wandering. She trudged down a very specific path, shuffling past the rows and rows of fancy houses she knew so well, until she reached one perched at the very end of the block, with all its ostentatious adornments and obnoxious signifiers of wealth. It embarrassed her to have to walk up that long cobblestone path to get to the front door, but the rain kept everyone off the street today, sparing her the humiliation just this once.
Like always, it took a minute for the occupant to answer when Evangeline knocked. When the door swung open, the woman on the other side was on her phone, maybe in a call with a client. The moment she saw that it was Evangeline at the door, however, she hung up, pocketing the device and staring down at her rain-drenched, disheveled, broken husk of a goddaughter. It took only a cursory glance at the redhead’s expression for Victoria Masters to diagnose the problem, and she reached out to rest a hand on Evangeline’s shoulder.
“Come on in, kid.”
+
Morgan backpedaled Masters into her own home with ease, their lips locked tight together. Her gloved hands dove under the robe, groping at soft, sagging breasts, snaking around to cup her godmother’s ass in her palms. Her teeth caught Masters’s lower lip, and the witch bit back in response, gnashing her own fangs harshly enough to draw a spot of blood.
“That fucking hurt,” Morgan snarled into Masters’s mouth, glancing over the woman’s shoulder to spot the couch and directing her towards it.
“You started it, kid,” Masters shot back, punctuating each word with another sloppy kiss. “I’m just standing my ground. I’m getting assaulted in my own home, you know. Where’re the pigs when you need ‘em, am I right?”
“Shut up.”
Morgan knocked her palm against Masters’s shoulder, sending the older lawyer tumbling backwards onto the couch. Reaching to her pants, she hastily fumbled with her belt buckle, pinching a finger in the clasp and swearing in irritation. She was already hard, straining against the tight fabric encasing her, and Morgan’s bulge was proving to be an inconvenience as usual, her pants zipper hitching over her tip before coming loose, mercifully dropping her pants to the ground. Masters watched her favorite junior’s struggle with delight in her wicked eyes, spreading her legs and pulling her robe apart to bare herself for Morgan, chuckling as the redhead clambered onto the couch in front of her.
“Nice and eager, are we?” Masters taunted. “Wish you’d been this fuckin’ horny for my shit when you worked at the firm. Coulda fucked in every conference room, kept score or something. That would’ve been awesome, don’t you think?”
“I told you to shut the fuck up.”
“You hate me,” Masters mockingly whimpered. “You don’t give a fuck about me. Just here to get your shit wet and bounce, is that it? You wound your godmother. Least you could do is tell me what sad little problem you’ve got this timmmmph -”
Morgan shut Masters’s mouth for her, stuffing her tongue in the witch’s mouth, lacing fingers through her hair. Her other hand grabbed at anything she could reach, harshly palming Masters’s breast, sliding down to rest on her abdomen, holding her down. The tip of Morgan’s clit brushed against Masters’s inner thigh, and the witch gave an appraisal, just as tactful as always.
“You’re smaller than last time, Freckles. Think it’ll be enough?”
Morgan clapped her hand over Masters’s mouth, reaching down with the other to line herself up with the old witch’s yawning entrance.
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
+
“That’s not anything to cry about, Red.”
“I’m not crying.”
“You’re crying on the inside. You just don’t know how to do it on the outside.”
Evangeline’s brow furrowed. It felt like the opposite to her. She could cry, she could laugh, she could scream, she could smile. Emulation was never the problem. Feeling it was. Her godmother was supposed to know that. Evangeline was sure she did. Maybe she’d caught the woman at a bad time.
Masters crouched down in front of Evangeline, cupping the girl’s face in her artificial hand. The cool stainless steel typically felt like needles pricking at her skin, and it certainly felt that way tonight, but the harsh sensation helped to ground her. It was something to latch on to, a physical sensation rooted in reality, like pinching yourself to check if you’re in a dream or not. She leaned into Masters’s hand, and Evangeline’s godmother looked down at her in response, her smile tight.
“This is a good lesson for you, kid,” Masters proclaimed. “We all gotta learn it someday. Sucks every time, and you’ll probably have to get hit with it more than once before it sticks, but this is a start.”
Evangeline peered up at Masters, confused. “Lesson?”
The smile turned icy.
“The only person you can rely on is yourself. Everyone in this world is a fuckin’ wolf, ready to tear out your throat the moment they get the chance. Everyone wants something, and whether they get it or not is all that matters to ‘em. If you think someone’s gonna fuck you, then you fuck them first. It’s that simple.”
It couldn’t be that simple. The world couldn’t be so cruel. There had to be something more to humanity, to connecting with other people. Something Evangeline could hold on to, that she could understand.
Masters seemed to clock that she’d done some damage. She sat down on the couch next to Evangeline, wrapped her organic arm around the girl’s shoulders and pulled her close.
“Seems like maybe ya weren’t ready for that lesson,” Masters mused, clicking her tongue against her teeth and frowning. “That’s alright. It gets easier each time.”
Evangeline’s godmother pressed her lips to the girl’s forehead. The wetness and the lipstick residue chafed at her, and she shuddered. Masters’s hand slipping off of her arm to circle around her waist had the same effect. She squeezed her thighs together in anticipation of what was coming next.
“Listen, Red,” Masters breathed. “Soon, you’ll be the one doing the fucking. Won’t get fucked any more. You’re growing into a real pretty girl, and that’ll get you far. Trust me.”
The hand on Evangeline’s waist slipped further, and under her tattered skirt, the redhead rose to meet it.
“Let me help you out.”
+
Every thrust of Morgan’s hips brought with it a grunt, rumbling up from her abdomen and out of her lips. She leered down at Masters with pure contempt in her eyes, one hand on the witch’s shoulder while the other gripped her hip, holding her in place. Masters glared right back, her eyes half-lidded with smug satisfaction, her cheeks airbrushed red, greedy hands reaching up to grope Morgan’s chest through her shirt.
“God damn these things got huge,” Masters commented, harshly squeezing at Morgan’s breasts, her nails digging in just a little too much for comfort. “The shit you’re on is like a thousand times better than what they had when I was your age.”
“A thousand years of progress will do that,” Morgan deadpanned. “Stop fucking talking.”
“There’s no reason to - nnnmmhh - to be this cold, Freckles,” Masters complained. She circled her fingertips around where she knew Morgan’s nipples to be through the fabric of her shirt and padding of her bra, relishing the way Morgan twitched inside her at the contact. “You came here to blow off some steam, yeah? But here you are, still fuckin’ boiling over like you’re on the surface of the sun. Lighten up and enjoy it.”
Morgan didn’t dignify that with a response. There was no enjoyment to be found here. She was being driven by instinct, by an uncontrolled need, one that even after all these years she found herself utterly unable to shake. It was pathetic, really, to come running back to her godmother every time someone cut her a little too deep. But Morgan had nowhere else to go, no other person in which she could take this kind of solace. She could go hunting, maybe, but that would have taken too much planning, and she knew she wasn’t in the right headspace to clean up after herself.
Hooking her arms around Morgan’s neck, Masters pulled her protégé into another kiss, invading Morgan’s mouth with her tongue, clenching her teeth around the redhead’s lower lip, tugging at it when she pulled back. Morgan responded by shifting her hand from Masters’s shoulder to her neck, gloved fingers finding the thick arteries on either side and resting on them. The feeling of blood coursing through them made Morgan throb inside Masters, and the old witch laughed, bringing her artificial hand to Morgan’s wrist, wrapping her talons around it.
“I wish you would,” Masters taunted. “It’d be fuckin’ awesome. The thought of my beautiful goddaughter thumping away at my cunt while I’m halfway to Heaven would get me hard as a god damn diamond if I had what you’re packing here.”
Probably the only way to get you to shut the fuck up, too.
Morgan was close. She could feel herself pulsing and twitching inside Masters, the strain of impending climax inducing a pressure in Morgan’s crotch that she was increasingly desperate to release. Masters could tell, too - she always could. She locked her legs around Morgan’s hips, reached up to yank her down by her bolo tie, squeezing her goddaughter tight against her bare chest.
“Come on, girl, let it out,” Masters commanded, her tongue flicking out against Morgan’s ear. Morgan shuddered, gritting her teeth. The witch knew she hated that, and she did it anyway. Morgan hated the way Masters’s acrylics scratched across her skin, the coldness of hands both organic and synthetic, the weathered texture of Masters’s thighs against her own, and yet the witch inflicted all of it upon Morgan all the same.
If nothing else, she always had hate.
An uncharacteristic whine escaped Morgan’s lips as she came, and she sank into Masters’s embrace, thrusting into her over and over until she had nothing left to shoot. The witch ran her fingers through Morgan’s hair, undoing her complicated updo and allowing a cascade of red to fall over both of them. She’d always loved Morgan’s hair, and the reverence seemed to only grow with age.
Keep it nice and long, she’d always said.
“Good job, Freckles, you made it seven minutes this time,” Masters heckled, chuckling to herself. “My ass is gonna be on ice for a week, I bet. Better call my clients and tell ‘em I can’t walk, I got my soul totally fucked out of me or something like that. They’ll understand.”
“Fuck off.”
+
Evangeline really, really didn’t like the nails.
Masters dragged them across every swath of open skin that had been granted to her, leaving faint white lines crisscrossing against Evangeline’s pale skin. Her thighs, her stomach, her back, her clit, even her small, developing breasts - nowhere was safe from her godmother’s talons, and it was the kind of feeling that made Evangeline want to melt into a puddle and disappear. But Masters loved to tease, and tease she did, scratching those terrible acrylics across Evangeline’s sack as her clit disappeared into Masters’s mouth.
They’d never gone this far before. Masters was on her knees in front of Evangeline, who was still seated on the couch, watching with wide, shocked eyes as her godmother sucked her off, taking her modest length down in one smooth motion, making it disappear and reappear within the span of a moment. The feeling was visceral, primal, base in a way that scared Evangeline. She’d never felt it so intensely before, and she was wholly unprepared to synthesize a series of brand new sensations.
Masters’s eyes never left Evangeline’s. She wasn’t even sure the woman had blinked since they’d started. Evangeline tried to match her intensity, but every flex of Masters’s lips around her shaft, the graze of her teeth, the way her hand cupped Evangeline underneath, made her own eyes involuntarily shut, sent shivers up her spine. So overpowering was Masters that Evangeline couldn’t even form a cogent thought, her private headspace wholly upended by her godmother’s touch.
“Mmmmhahh…” Masters panted, retreating for a moment. “How’s that feel, Red? Taking the edge off a little, I bet. Gotta admit, it’s helping me out, too…been a bit since I’ve been able to go down on a girl as cute as you.”
Something about that brought a wave of nausea that washed over Evangeline, and she clutched her stomach, certain that she was turning green. Masters paid the change in her demeanor no mind, giving her mouth a rest for a moment to stroke Evangeline instead, short, staccato bursts of movement that subsumed the entirety of her modest shaft with every slip of her godmother’s hand. Evangeline’s free hand sat uselessly at her sides, fingers digging into the plush fabric of Masters’s couch.
She didn’t understand how they’d gotten here. Couldn’t process why it was happening now, of all times. Evangeline’s godmother hadn’t always been so fixated on her body; that only came about when Evangeline came out to her, enlisting her godmother’s assistance in getting her parents off her back about it. Masters played it slow at first - a lingering hug here, a kiss close to the lips there. Maybe she didn’t want to scare Evangeline off. Maybe it was just a matter of acclimation. But Evangeline never protested, even when Masters’s hands began to wander below the belt. It was good to be desired, she figured. That was what everyone wanted. Supposedly.
A spike in pressure at the base of Evangeline’s clit brought her stumbling back into the present. Masters had taken Evangeline out of her mouth, stroking her excitedly once more with her organic hand. The other rested on Evangeline’s abdomen, over her hand, and its cold touch stung.
“Show your godmother your gratitude, Red,” Masters drawled, draping Evangeline’s modest length across her face. “It’ll help you in the real world. The real fuckers fuck their way to the top. I know you can, too.”
It sounded so easy to understand, but Evangeline couldn’t process it. She couldn’t process anything now, her brain too fogged up to think. She hadn’t touched herself in weeks, and already she was overstimulated by Masters’s work. Her breath slipped out in shudders as Masters pointed Evangeline’s clit towards her face, her tongue flicking out to brush across the tip.
Maybe it all came naturally to normal people. Friendship, companionship, love. Maybe the real fuckers really did fuck their way to the top. Being the hero was pointless. It wasn’t what anyone wanted. Evangeline could have picked up on that if she’d been born differently. But there were no do-overs, no re-rolls. No shuffling of the deck. Evangeline had to make due with the hand she was dealt.
At least she liked cards.
Evangeline came without fanfare, without warning. It had been harder and harder for her to reach climax lately, so it was a surprise that she’d managed to produce as much as she did. It crisscrossed over Masters’s face, settled on her glasses, dribbled down her chin onto her chest. Masters let out a little grunt of surprise after the first shot, but smiled as the rest landed on her, eyes still fixated on her goddaughter. When the flow subsided, she wiped a glob of it off her cheek and stuck it in her mouth, sighing with contentment.
“Good job, Red.”
+
“At least stay a while. Tell me how it feels to be a big shot mafia lawyer. How’d the gabagool taste?”
Morgan ignored the witch’s obvious bait as she tugged her pants back up, hastily rebuckling her belt, adjusting her bolo tie. A quick escape was vital after making the mistake of running back to Masters. Better to have the breakdown at home, where she could shut Serra down and ride it out in the darkness.
“Ah, come on, Freckles, don’t be like that…” Masters cooed, resting her chin on Morgan’s shoulder, unclean hands slipping around her waist, teasing at her pants zipper. Morgan could feel the witch’s bare breasts on her back, and she gritted her teeth, pushing out of Masters’s grip on her and heading for the door.
“Put some fucking clothes on.”
“Made it easier for you this time though.”
“Good night, Victoria.”
“Government name after nutting in me is crazy,” Masters said, chuckling to herself over it. “Why not a ‘Mom,’ for old time’s sake, huh? Or maybe ‘Mommy’ like when you were at the firm -”
“Good night, Victoria.”
“Ugh, fine. Tight-ass.”
Morgan had her hand on the door handle, but the sound of Masters slumping back onto the couch, and the quiet scraping of metal across the coffee table, drew her attention, foolishly prodding her to look back. There, she spotted Masters pulling an ornate, blue-and-gold patterned jewelry box towards her, and the sight of it made Morgan’s stomach turn.
The witch didn’t notice Morgan’s attention until she’d already opened it, scooping out a pinch of the fluorescent powder onto one nail and bringing it to her nose. When she saw Morgan watching, her lips peeled back into that cruel smirk the redhead despised, and she raised an eyebrow.
“Want a hit? Bet it’ll loosen you up some.”
Morgan lingered on the box for a moment, then turned back to the door.
“Don’t overdo it.”
She didn’t see it, but Masters frowned, put out. Morgan heard her snort, and sigh.
“Suit yourself. See ya next crisis, Freckles.”
Morgan slammed the door shut behind her, leaning against it for a moment to get her bearings. It would be a long, quiet walk home, alone with her two worst enemies.
Herself, and the tent in her pants.
+
Evangeline slumped backwards, drained. She watched, detached, as Masters rose up to her feet and retreated to the bathroom to clean off her face. The sound of running water floated through Masters’s cavernous living room, permeating the silence and mixing with the sound of buzzing in Evangeline’s ears. No, it wasn’t in her ears.
It was in her brain.
“Phew,” Masters sighed, emerging from the bathroom and flopping down on the couch next to Evangeline, who hadn’t moved a muscle. She placed a hand on the redhead’s thigh, and Evangeline flinched, fingers clenching. Her godmother glanced over at her, pursing her lips, a look on her face almost like disappointment.
“You don’t have to look so tense, kid,” Masters drawled. “I’m not gonna eat you. Well, not any more than I just did, ha.”
Evangeline didn’t react, her gaze fixed straight ahead. She folded her hands in her lap, pulling her skirt back down to cover herself up. The moisture on her clit had mostly dried up, but it left a residue that grated on her. She would have to take a shower at some point. Maybe two.
“Hey, Red, look at me.”
Masters gave her a few moments to comply on her own, but when Evangeline didn’t, she reached out and pinched the girl’s chin between her claws, gently turning her to meet her godmother’s eye.
“You’re good,” she said. “You’re fine. Take a breath and relax. You’re safe here.”
Evangeline blinked.
“Okay.”
Masters let her go, but didn’t seem convinced. Her eyes drifted to a jewelry box on the coffee table, a gorgeous sapphire plated with gold adornments all over. Dragging it towards them, Masters turned the clasp and flipped the top open, revealing a fluorescent powder that Evangeline had never seen before. She dipped a long fingernail into it, shook a few grains loose, and brought it up near Evangeline’s nose. Evangeline shied away, but found herself in her godmother’s grip once more, those steely eyes boring into hers.
“Just try it.”
Not an offer. An order.
Evangeline leaned in, and sniffed. It stung, right away, and after a few moments, she felt lighter. Her eyes unfocused, and her body relaxed. Masters smiled, recognizing the effects. The witch’s hand slipped under Evangeline’s skirt, and Evangeline rose again.
“Good girl.”