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munson-blurbs · 8 months ago

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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Eddie's rejection made you question your own hopes and dreams, but the consequences were even more dire for him. (3.6k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, homelessness, depiction of alcoholism, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter three: turn the lights back on

Eddie left during Dad’s shift on Friday. Over the years, there were more than a handful of guests who’d put up a fight when check out day arrived, but he wasn’t one of them.

When you’d inquired about his departure, as nonchalantly as you could, Dad only said that Eddie had signed the log and walked off without any formal goodbye.

“What time?”

“Six-thirty, or thereabouts. No later than seven.”

Almost as if he’d waited for you to clock out. Purposely avoiding you.

You shrugged off the thought, chastising yourself for taking a harmless coincidence so personally. Maybe he had to be somewhere early or wanted to beat the rush hour traffic. Maybe he didn’t even take your presence—or lack thereof—into consideration.

He did, however, swipe the blanket from his bed, leaving behind just the pillow and a rumpled sheet. Disappointment wove its way through your veins at its finality. He was simply another guest, another face stored in the depths of your memory with some many other one-timers.

Making a mental note to replace the blanket before the summer crowd arrived, you stripped the remaining sheet and pillowcase and made the bed with clean ones. The fabric was so worn that it was nearly transparent, barely concealing the litany of stains that decorated the old mattress.

Eddie didn’t appear to have added any to the collection. That was something, you supposed.

Your Friday and Saturday evenings were always spent the same way: watching groups of friends traipse up and down the boulevard, laughing at jokes that were only funny because everyone was on the right side of tipsy. Rain or shine, teenagers could always be counted on to frequent the local bars and liquor stores that didn't bother to check for identification.

Sundays brought the usual sense of existential dread; the week ahead was daunting and the week prior was a blur of exhaustion. A new guest checked in, an older woman who’d missed her flight out of LaGuardia and needed a place to stay until the next plane took off in the morning. You almost put her in room four, the key temptingly dangling from its hook, but you plucked the one for room three instead.

And then Monday arrived, baring its ugly teeth in a menacing grimace. It exhaled a rancid puff of morning breath, the same smell that belched from the bus’s tailpipe.

Backpack sagging low with the weight of overpriced textbooks, you dragged yourself towards the bus stop. Your only reprieve is that today marked the last week of classes. All that remained after that was finals week, and then you were done.

The typical small collection of commuters greeted you in traditional New York City fashion: tired half-smiles with a respectful lack of eye contact that you reflexively reciprocated. One of the older men sat on the bench, but the normally empty spot next to him was occupied by none other than Eddie Munson. He kept his guitar case safely clenched between his thighs, his garbage bag suitcase leaning against his left leg.

Curiosity nudged you and wormed its way into your thoughts. Where was he going? Was he staying at a different motel, one that had cable so he could watch MTV whenever he needed?

Or maybe he was en route to Port Authority so he could high-tail it back to not-New York, to his hometown where people considered it polite to strike up conversations with strangers.

Wherever his destination was, it was no longer your problem.

If he noticed you, he gave no indication. His vacant stare never left the ground, vaguely looking up one time to light a cigarette. He cupped a hand around the flame, blocking his view of you.

It was probably better that way.

The bus hissed as it pulled up to the stop and the doors hinged open to let passengers board. Would he sit next to you? Would he position himself as far away as possible? Or was he wholly indifferent, regarding the exchange as out of sight and out of mind?

Taking a seat towards the back, you searched for him in the sea of faces. You could apologize, explain you were only trying to help and never meant to embarrass him, and the two of you could part ways knowing that you didn’t look down on him.

But there was no sign of the frizzy curls that he wore like a crown, no guitar case inching into the aisle. For all intents and purposes, this bus was an Eddie Munson-free zone.

A disappointed ache settled in your chest and you massaged your sternum in hopes of alleviating it. When the driver turned the wheel away from the curb, you caught a glimpse of Eddie through the fingerprint-smudged window, sitting on the bench just as he had since you’d arrived.

Except this time, he was looking directly at you. It was intentional; he’d seen you waiting at the stop and waited until conversation was an impossibility before daring to glance your way.

He averted his gaze the moment your eyes locked onto his. It was so fast that you worried that you’d imagined it. A sleep-deprived hallucination, even.

You didn’t stop looking even as the bus left the stop. You watched him toss his cigarette butt to the ground and crush it with the sole of his sneaker. You watched him take another one and place it between his lips. You watched trembling fingers dig into his jacket pocket and take out the lighter once again.

He was out of sight before you could see a spark.

Excitement hummed through campus, a live wire that electrified even you. It was hard to ignore the end-of-semester buzz, especially with the sun warming the air in a soft spotlight.

Other students sat on the quad, blankets tucked underneath them as they ate lunch with friends. Their mouths moved in conversations about exam cramming and upcoming parties and post-graduation plans. You wanted to bottle their lightheartedness and carry it around with you, dipping into it when life got too serious and dabbing it on your pulse points like perfume.

Fluorescent bulbs replaced the natural light as you walked the hall towards the classroom. You slid into your usual spot and placed your bag on the adjacent chair to reserve it for Nora. Until she arrived, you’d be left alone with only your thoughts to keep you company.

Great.

The memory of the other night, of Eddie’s sullen expression and the way his lips hardened into a frown, was a stone in your stomach.

How could he think that you pitied him, looked down on him for his circumstances? Wasn’t it obvious from the motel’s disrepair that you weren’t exactly living in the lap of luxury either? And yet, he’d perceived your attempt at an alliance as some sort of enemy threat. You wanted to shake his shoulders and yell, “we’re on the same team!” but it would probably just bounce off of his MTV-obsessed brain without him ever processing it.

Eddie’s reaction wasn’t the only part of the confrontation that bothered you. No, what really drove you to the brink of insanity was that the confrontation bothered you at all.

How many guests were snippy or even downright mean to you over the years? How many had raised their voice over the most trivial matter? You had lost count of the number of times someone had spat the word ‘bitch’ in your direction because of low water pressure or a lightbulb that needed replacing.

And yet, this is the instance that grated at you, had you wondering if he’d looked away from you this afternoon out of disdain, guilt, embarrassment, or some combination of the three.

It shouldn’t have even mattered. So what if he hated you? He was out of the motel, which meant that his problems were no longer your concern.

The click of the door being wrenched open forced you out of your thoughts and back to reality.

“Last week of classes!” Nora trilled with a wide grin. She practically skipped to your side, slinging her backpack over the wooden chair back. “Then we have finals,” she contorted her face in disgust before resuming her excited disposition, “and then we graduate!”

She plopped down in her seat, adjusting her body to face you. “That reminds me; we should probably figure out where we’re going to meet before the ceremony, because I am not sitting through that alo—what?” She frowned when you flinched, the realization setting in. “Nonono, don’t tell me you’re not going.”

“Sorry,” you offered half-heartedly. The pen markings on your desk suddenly became incredibly interesting, and you rubbed your forefinger over them in a feeble attempt to end the conversation.

As usual, Nora refused to accept defeat. “Still haven’t told your parents?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, you’ve got two weeks.” She clapped you on the back a bit too harshly, her lips pinched with an edge of impatience. “Time to put on those big-girl panties.”

She meant well–she always did, doing everything in her power to encourage you to pursue the career you wanted. But she just didn’t understand the mounting pressure to be what your family needed, or how you were constantly towing the line between selfishness and dignity. One step in the wrong direction and you would either crush your parents’ dreams or your own. And while there had to be some gray area there, it was overshadowed by the polarizing categories.

“I’ll try.”

You won’t.

You spent the class forcing yourself to listen to the professor, jotting down notes every so often when you could remember to do so.

Paying attention to lectures, final papers and exams, the graduation ceremony–it all seemed asinine when you considered your failure to help people on the most basic level. Like with Eddie: as hard as you tried to emphasize the mutual benefits of him working at the motel, you’d still inadvertently offended him.

When were you going to learn to stop extending help to people who weren’t asking for any? In these situations, you tossed logic aside to make room for emotion. It had been that way since you first began to understand that answers to life’s problems were seldom clear-cut.

There was one day in particular, where rain fell in sheets and your only option was to play indoors. You were jumping rope in the lobby, excitedly counting along with each skip.

“Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty—”

The rope smacked against your ankles, but you were too distracted to feel the sting. Your eyes were glued to a man who was stumbling towards the front desk. He wobbled in his whiskey-drenched cloud, mumbling something incoherent under his breath before collapsing to the ground in sudden hysterical sobs.

“Everything okay, sir?” Dad asked. His inconspicuous hand motioned you towards your room, but you froze in place. It wasn’t fear so much as shock that a grown-up was having a temper tantrum.

The man didn’t answer; instead, he took a swig from the brown paper bag clutched in his hand. Amber liquid trickled out from between his lips as he cried, and he slowly pushed himself up and out the front door without acknowledging anyone else’s presence. Raindrops pelted down on his head and matted whatever hair was left on his head

“Why was he crying?” You’d asked Dad, the jump rope now all but forgotten. “And what was in the bag?”

Dad gave you a small smile and did his best to explain the adult situation to a child. Even now, you remembered him talking about how drinking alcohol can make people feel happy, sad, or angry. He omitted the fact that all three emotions could occur in the same person, in the same moment, but your eight-year-old mind wouldn’t have comprehended that anyway.

Ever inquisitive, you continued asking questions. “But if it makes him sad, why doesn’t he just stop?”

“It’s not that easy,” Dad said with a tight grimace.

You’d considered his response for a moment, eyes lighting up when you conjured up a brilliant idea. “What if we go in his room and throw out all of his alcohol!” You tugged on Dad’s hand, expecting him to reciprocate your enthusiasm, but he’d stayed where he was and shook his head.

“Afraid it doesn’t work that way, kiddo. He’s gotta want to stop drinking first.”

It hadn’t made sense to you then, and though you’d learned about the nuances of addiction as the years crept by, it didn’t do much to quell your frustration. Any solution being beyond your control was a piranha ripping into your ambitions with its razor-sharp teeth.

The Eddie situation gave you that same helpless feeling. If you could turn back the clock, you would have done something different. You weren’t sure exactly what would be different, but it would almost certainly be better than your spur-of-the-moment offer last Wednesday.

But since time travel was out of the question and Eddie was no longer one of your guests, both he and his problems were out of your hands.

If only your heart could accept that.

A reel of your shortcomings played in your mind on a continuous loop; it still gnawed at you as class was dismissed, the professor calling out a reminder about final paper submission while you and Nora walked out the door.

“Are you okay?” She frowned and put out a gentle hand to bring you to a stop.

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

She wasn’t falling for that lame excuse, not when something heavier than sleep marred your face. “Seriously. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Do you ever feel like you’ll never actually help anyone?”

The words came out in a rush before you could curtail them. Wincing, you allowed yourself a peek at your friend’s expression. Confusion knitted her brows together, but her arms stayed at her sides.

“What do you mean?” Her words were soft and careful, distinctly absent of judgment or condescension.

A monologue of response was lodged in your throat. It was a thought you held inside, silently rehearsed but never dared to speak aloud:

Are we really going to make a difference? Or enough of a difference that it even matters? Like when you see a homeless person and you give them some money, or buy them something to eat. And you feel good for a split second, because now that person isn’t going to be hungry for a little while, right? But then you pass by another homeless person. And another. And you realize that, to them, it doesn’t matter that you helped someone else. Because those other people are still hungry.

You said none of it, swallowing the words and replacing them with a, “never mind, I’m too in my own head today.”

Nora nodded, not wanting to push too hard, but you knew she was teeming with questions. She offered a small smile that told you the conversation wasn’t over, just paused temporarily.

A nod of your own sealed the compromise.

The rest of the afternoon played out without a hiccup. Lunch was your usual greasy sandwich from Niko with a side of his irritated banter, this time about the price of gas.

“You girls think it won’t affect you because you take the bus,” he warned, finger wagging between you and Nora, “but just watch them hike up the fare. It’s only a matter of time. Especially with those new card things you gotta use.”

His fears were unfounded, at least for the moment, and you and Nora each dropped $1.25 into the coin slot.

“About what you said earlier,” she started, finding space to wrap her hands on the pole, “we don’t have to talk about it—”

“Please.”

“–but I need to tell you one thing.” Her eyes held firmly onto yours. “If anyone’s gonna make a difference in this shitty world, it’s you.”

The compliment should have illuminated you from the inside out; instead, it was a firefly’s light, barely bright enough to cast a shadow with its pathetic flickering. You ached to believe her, but it was impossible to imagine that the same person who wouldn’t tell her parents a simple truth could also change the world.

“Thanks.” One word compounded with a forced smile, and the truce snapped back in place. Weighing potential conversation topics, you settled on the most neutral–the final paper for your class–and launched yourself into it with as much enthusiasm as you could summon for the remainder of the ride home.

There was no overt sign of Eddie when your bus pulled up to the stop. Not at first. The only indication of him was a familiar mint-colored blanket tightly wrapped around a lump laying across the bench.

It wasn’t until you stepped off of the bus and got closer that you could make out the curly brunette tendrils peeking out from the top, the blanket rising and falling with each breath he took. His face was hidden and his eyelids were screwed shut in fitful sleep, allowing you to hold onto the false hope that it wasn’t him, just someone with a similar build and hair texture. Even the frayed hems of his jeans and his scuffed sneakers sticking out from the other end of the blanket could have been a coincidence.

But there was no denying the truth once you caught a glimpse of the guitar case being hugged to his chest.

Just keep walking. Stop trying to fix things that you didn’t break. Things that didn’t ask to be fixed.

Your conscience trumped logic once again as two fingertips gently pressed against his blanket-wrapped shoulder.

“Eddie?”

His eyes flew open in an instant, revealing the delicate red lines that scarred the whites and meandered towards his brown irises. He clenched the guitar case even tighter as he jolted upright, protecting it like it was his child, and the sudden movement sent a handful of empty beef jerky wrappers floating to the ground.

Sunlight streamed through the glass panes, fragmented where it had been shattered by a rogue baseball or perhaps the crown of someone’s head, though you would have heard about it if it was the latter. It backlit him in an angelic glow, a halo comically contradicting his bitter expression.

“Fuckin’ shit–don’t scare me like that!”

The gentle, rhythmic inhales and exhales were long gone, replaced by a frantic fight-or-flight panting that flared out his nostrils. His hardened jawline softened a bit once he’d fully clawed himself out of his sleepy haze and realized that the person in front of him wasn’t a threat, just a nuisance.

“I told you; I don’t need your charity.” His lips set into a scowl and he laid back down on the bench, tugging the blanket back up to his chin.

That’s it. Conversation over. Go home.

“You certainly need my blanket, though.” Raising one eyebrow, you thumbed at the thin material to make your point.

Eddie only doubled down, sitting up once more to ball up the blanket and toss it in your direction. “Here ya go. It’s all yours.”

You caught it with one hand, the loose threads tickling your forearm.

“That’s not what I meant.” A hiss of air passed through your teeth. This was the perfect opportunity to leave him behind, to go somewhere you were needed and wanted. He had been making it abundantly clear that he’d rather live outside than spend another second with you.

And yet.

“I’m not just gonna let you sleep out here.” Tone thick with insistence, you mustered up all of your determination. The blanket was now tucked beneath your underarm and sopping up the pooling perspiration. “And it’s only a matter of time before you get mugged. With that thing,” you gesture to the instrument still in his grasp, “I’m surprised it hasn’t already happened. So you can either stay at the motel and re-wallpaper the lobby or you can kiss your precious guitar goodbye.”

Fire burned behind your eyes as you spoke, each word adding kindling. You couldn’t tell if you were doing this for his safety or your own pride, but both led to the same outcome.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just scraped his top teeth over the dead skin on his lower lip, drawing a speck of blood that went unnoticed. You stayed silent, too, the weight of his impending decision anchoring your tongue.

Finally he nodded, slowly at first, then faster as desperation seeped in, but he remained steadfast in his refusal to meet your eyes.

“Fine.” Eddie’s breath was shaky, teetering on the brink of tears, but none fell. “Just until I find a paying gig.”

He grabbed the neck of his guitar with one hand and pressed on his knee with the other. Fixing his posture, he stood tall in hopes that no one walking by would equate him with the pitiful mess who had been sleeping at a bus stop in a stolen blanket.

“Okay,” you agreed with a quiet breath, a cautious smile playing on your lips as the two of you walked back to the motel. You stayed two steps in front of him, leading the way.

He could turn heel and run. He could back out at any moment and you’d never see him again. But when you unlocked the door to room four–Eddie’s room–he was still behind you.

“I can take the blanket back,” he said, motioning to the bundle under your arm as he stepped over the threshold and into the room.

Like a phantom appendage, you’d forgotten it was there. “No. I’ll get you a fresh one.” You shook your head, finalizing the matter.

“Okay.”

No hesitation. No argument.

Maybe there was a chance you could actually help him. Maybe you didn’t ruin everything you touched.

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bloodreinasbathwater · 4 months ago

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Where Kings Land

Part 1

Jacaerys Velaryon x Stark! Reader

a.n: I finally get the hype about Jace. This right here is one fine man. the hair, the freckles, the big nose. ALL of it. this is part 1 of the miniseries for House of the Dragon, and it's my first time writing outside of the regular asoiaf series. Enjoy and please lmk what you think!!

Warnings: manipulation, not proofread, yelling, cursing? talk of beheading and treason.

Word Count: 4,900

masterlist link

summary: In the harsh lands of the North, where winter's bite is ever-present, a tale of duty, desire, and deception unfolds within the ancient walls of Winterfell. Y/N Stark, sister to the absent Lord Cregan, finds herself caught in a web of political intrigue as the realm teeters on the brink of civil war.

...

The heavy wooden door slammed behind her with a resounding thud, echoing through the granite corridors of Winterfell. Y/n Stark—sister to the Lord of Winterfell, Cregan Stark—strode purposefully down the hallway, her frustration evident in every step. The torches lining the walls cast flickering shadows across her face, highlighting the furrow of her brow. She yanked her fur cloak tighter around her shoulders, warding off the perpetual chill that seeped through the ancient stones. The servants scurried out of her path, lowering their eyes as she passed. Y/n barely noticed them, her mind occupied with the litany of tasks that lay before her. The castle, a sprawling behemoth of grey stone and timber, was a living, breathing entity, and Y/n felt the weight of its responsibilities press down on her.

Cregan, her brother, was a warrior, a leader born to the battlefield. He thrived on the thrill of the hunt, the clash of steel, the shouts of battle. The day-to-day running of Winterfell, the endless paperwork, the constant negotiations, the delicate dance of alliances and diplomacy… these fell upon his shoulders. He was a silent force, a steady hand guiding the ship through the turbulent seas of politics and power.

Reaching the grand hall, Y/n paused, her gaze sweeping over the gathered lords and ladies. Their conversations buzzed like a hive of bees, their laughter echoing off the vaulted ceiling. She longed to be amongst them, to share in the joy of a feast, to ease the burden of her thoughts, but the weight of the impending winter hung heavy on her heart.

The biting wind whipped around Y/n's face as she ascended the final steps to the maester's tower. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and old magic, a familiar and comforting aroma despite its inherent chill. Inside, the room was bathed in the soft glow of a single lantern, casting long shadows across the piles of scrolls and tomes that littered the floor. Y/n's boots clicked against the stone floor, a sharp counterpoint to the rustle of the raven that perched on the window sill, its beady eyes fixed on her with an unsettling intelligence. The bird was a harbinger of news, always, and today, its arrival had filled her with a sense of foreboding dread.

“You've got ravens in your hair,” the maester, Alyn, said with a dry chuckle, his voice raspy from years of whispering secrets into ancient texts. He was a frail figure, his fingers gnarled and stained with ink, his eyes filled with a wisdom that seemed to encompass the entirety of the world. She brushed at her hair, dislodging a stray feather that had become entangled in its braids. 'They know I'm coming for them,' she said, her voice tight. 'They always seem to.'

Alyn nodded, a knowing glint in his eyes. 'King's Landing sends more than its fair share of worries north,' he said, gesturing to the table in the centre of the room. It was an imposing piece, carved from ancient oak, the surface groaning under the weight of a mountain of sealed parchments. Y/n sighed, letting the weight of the responsibility settle upon her shoulders. Every one of those scrolls contained a new burden, a new demand, a new headache she would have to unravel. The North had always been harsh, a land of unforgiving winters and fiercer people.

'What's the news, maester?' she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Alyn shuffled through the pile of scrolls, his gaze searching for a particular one. “They're now threatening us with dragon fire, my lady,” he stated solemnly, the chain around his neck clinking softly.

Y/n's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the pile of letters that lay on the table before her. Her jaw clenched, her anger rising like a tide. “Burn them,” she commanded, her voice sharp and decisive. “Burn all the letters. We will not answer, nor will we cower.”

Alyn's eyebrows rose in surprise, but Y/n's resolve only grew stronger. “Prince Jacaerys should be here any day. We will make good with the Blacks.”

Maester Alyn leaned back in his chair, studying her face. 'Are you certain, my lady? This is a dangerous game we play. The Green's dragons—"

“Are no more fearsome than the winter that forged us,” Y/n cut him off. She moved to the window, gazing out over the frost-covered courtyard. “My brother may be in the north of the Wall, but we will not be cowed by southern threats.”

Her words echoed through the frigid halls, carrying with them a resolute determination that belied her youth. “You are right, my lady,” he said at last.

Y/n turned to him, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you, Maester Alyn. Please, have the letters burned. We must prepare for the prince's arrival. We’ll show him true Northern hospitality. And maester," she added, a hint of a smile playing at her lips, "make sure we have plenty of that strong northern ale. We'll need it for the toast when we pledge our support to Queen Rhaenyra."

Maester Alyn nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. He reached for the candle on his desk, ready to carry out her orders. "As you wish, my lady. there's one more," he said softly, holding out a sealed parchment. "It arrived separately... and it's addressed to you personally."

Y/n hesitated, then took the letter. The seal bore the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, but something about it seemed different. More... personal. With a swift motion, she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. Her eyes scanned the contents, and her face hardened.

"It's from Aegon," she said, her voice tight. She began to read aloud:

"My dearest y/n,

The silence between us cuts like shards of Valyrian steel, slicing through my soul. Do you remember the stolen moments in the godswood, under the watchful eyes of the old gods? The promises we made beneath the heart tree?I await your reply to our ravens with bated breath, much as I once awaited your stolen glances across the great hall.

But make no mistake, my white wolf. Your beauty will not shield the North from my wrath should you choose wrongly. Aemond grows impatient and Vhagar hungers for blood. With one word, we could reduce Winterfell to nothing but ash and bone.

Remember this, my sweetling: fire destroys ice. And dragons do not forgive.

Choose wisely. Choose me.

Yours in fire and blood, Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm"

y/n’s hand shook as she finished reading, her knuckles white where she gripped the parchment. The maester watched her, concern etched on his weathered face.

"My lady," he began cautiously, "what—"

"Burn it," Y/n interrupted, her voice cold as the Wall itself. "Burn it with the rest." She tossed the letter onto the pile, her eyes blazing with a fury to match any dragon's flame.

…

Amidst the icy grip of the winter, the last traces of sunlight had long since disappeared beyond the horizon when a thunderous beating of dragon wings shattered the bleak silence. Y/n stood in Winterfell's snowy courtyard, her chilled breath leaving clouds in the frigid air as she looked up to witness the dark shape descending from the sky.

With ethereal grace surprising for its size, the dragon landed with a resounding thud and steam rising from its scales as they met the frosty ground. As its rider dismounted, y/n found herself frozen in place, her carefully prepared greeting dying on her lips.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon strode towards her, his Valyrian features softened by Stark coloring. Dark curls framed his face, windswept from the flight. But it was his eyes that caught y/n off guard - soft and kind, yet holding a depth that spoke of burdens she had yet to find out.

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away. Y/n's heart raced as she stood before the prince, a stranger yet somehow familiar. She couldn't explain the sudden pull she felt towards him, as if they shared a connection beyond words. But at the same time, fear and doubt crept in, questioning if this was all just a dream or a cruel trick of fate.

Jacaerys approached, his movements as graceful as the dragon he rode. His brow furrowed slightly at her silence. He glanced around, perhaps wondering if he'd made some misstep. Finally, he bowed low, breaking the spell. "Lady Stark," he said, his voice a low, warm timbre that sent a shiver down her spine. " I am honored to meet you. And I thank you for your hospitality."

Y/n blinked, suddenly aware of the eyes of the entire courtyard upon them. She straightened, pulling her mask of cool composure back into place. "Prince Jacaerys," she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "Winterfell welcomes you. Please, come inside where it's warm. We have much to discuss."

As she turned to lead him into the castle, Y/n caught the prince studying her with curiosity. She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with a challenging look of her own. Whatever this feeling was, she couldn't afford to let it distract her. The fate of the North hung in the balance.

Yet as they walked, she couldn't help but be acutely aware of his presence just behind her, like the warmth of a flame at her back in the cold northern night.

…

The Brown Room lived up to its name, with rich walnut paneling and fur-draped chairs that spoke of comfort in the face of long northern nights. Y/N led Jacaerys inside, the scent of beeswax candles and old parchment greeting them. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the cluttered table where ledgers and letters vied for space.

Y/N gestured to a high-backed chair. "Please, sit," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. She reached for a decanter, the crystal cool against her fingers. "Would you care for some wine, my Lord? It's a Dornish red – my favorite one."

Jacaerys settled into the chair, his eyes roaming the room before settling on Y/N. "Thank you, my lady. And please, call me Jace."

As she poured, a drop of wine escaped, staining the cuff of her sleeve crimson. Y/N barely noticed, too aware of Jace's proximity, the warmth radiating from him in the cool room.

"What did you wish to discuss, my lady?" Jace broached softly, accepting the goblet with a nod of thanks.

Suddenly, the room felt stifling. Y/N's heavy fur cloak, a necessity in Winterfell's drafty halls, now seemed unbearable. She shed it, draping it over the tall oak chair behind her. The firelight caught the silver direwolf clasp as it settled.

"Our support," Y/N replied, forcing herself to meet Jace's gaze. His eyes, she noticed, were flecked with gold in the candlelight. She swallowed hard and continued, "We have two thousand men. Strong northern fighters. We call them Winter Wolves."

Jace leaned forward, interest piqued. "Winter Wolves? An apt name, I'd wager."

Y/N allowed herself a small smile. "Indeed. They're as fierce as their namesake and twice as loyal." She moved to the table, rifling through the papers until she found a particular map. As she spread it out, the familiar scent of ink and parchment helped ground her.

"Here," she pointed, "is where we've gathered them. They await only my brother's word - or mine, in his absence."

Jace stood, moving to study the map. His arm brushed Y/N's as he leaned in, and she caught a whiff of leather and something else - perhaps the lingering scent of dragon scales. Jacaerys studied the map closely, tracing his fingers over the different markings and symbols. He was impressed by the precision and detail of the Winter Wolves' gathering points.

"Your brother must be a formidable leader to have gathered such a force in such a short time," Jace remarked, straightening up and turning to face Y/N.

"Yes, he is," Y/N said with pride.

"This is... more than we dared hope for," Jace admitted, his voice low and warm.

Outside, a wolf howled in the distance, a lonely sound that seemed to echo Y/N's inner turmoil. She squared her shoulders, pushing away the unwelcome feelings. Jace's brow furrowed as he studied Y/N's face. "My lady, are you well? You seem... flushed."

Y/N startled, realizing she'd been staring. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, painfully aware of the dampness at her temples. "I'm fine, my- Jace," she corrected herself. "I was... under the weather a few days ago. Nothing serious."

Jace's eyes softened with concern. Jace's hand hovers near Y/N's elbow, his fingers poised as if ready to reach out and catch her. She can feel the warmth radiating off of his skin, and she can sense the electricity between them, even though he's not quite touching her. "Perhaps you should sit. We needn't discuss everything tonight."

The gentleness in his voice made Y/N's heart flutter. She sank into a nearby chair, Jace following suit. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, giving her his full attention. His eyes were pools of liquid silver, soft and caring as they searched Y/N's face.

"Tell me," he said softly, "how are you truly faring? It can't be easy, managing the North in your brother's absence."

Y/N's carefully constructed walls began to crumble under his earnest gaze. "It's... challenging," she admitted. "Especially with the constant stream of demands from King's Landing."

Jace's expression darkened. "Ah, yes. I've heard whispers of Aegon's... correspondence."

Y/N couldn't hide the flash of frustration that crossed her face. "Correspondence," she scoffed. "Threats, more like. Your cousin seems to think he can bully the North into submission."

"My cousin," Jace said, his voice low and intense, "forgets that winter roses have thorns." He reached out, this time taking Y/N's hand in his. The touch sent a jolt through her. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. "You needn't face this alone, my lady."

Y/N found herself lost in his eyes, warm and sincere. "I... thank you, Jace," she murmured.

A log shifted in the fireplace, sending up a shower of sparks. Jace glanced at the flames, then back to Y/N, a mischievous smile playing at his lips. "You know, where I come from, they say the dragonfires pale in comparison to the warmth of a northern welcome."

Despite herself, Y/N laughed. "Is that so? And how does our hospitality measure up?"

Jace's thumb traced circles on the back of her hand, his touch feather-light. "Oh, it exceeds all expectations, my lady. Though I must confess, I find myself most warmed by present company."

Y/N felt her cheeks burn, but for once, she didn't mind the heat. A small smile tugged at the corners of Y/N's lips as she gazed into his captivating eyes. "You're quite the charmer, Prince Jacaerys."

"Only when properly inspired," is all he replied.

…

The pale light of dawn crept over Winterfell's stone walls, casting long shadows across the frosted courtyard. Y/N stood in the stables, her breath visible in the crisp morning air.

Her fingers, slightly numb from the cold, worked methodically on the leather straps of her horse's saddle. The familiar motions were soothing - tighten, adjust, check, repeat. The rich scent of hay and horse sweat mingled with the earthy aroma of leather oil.

As she worked, Y/N caught herself glancing repeatedly towards the castle, anticipation building in her chest.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her heart quicken. Jace appeared in the stable doorway, silhouetted against the brightening sky. He stifled a yawn, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Y/N noticed the slight disarray of his dark curls and felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to smooth them.

"My lady," Jace greeted, his voice husky with sleep. He cleared his throat, offering a sheepish smile. "You're up early."

Y/N felt the corners of her mouth twitch upward. "The North waits for no one, Your Grace," she replied, handing him a set of reins. Their fingers brushed, and Y/N pretended not to notice the warmth that spread from the point of contact. "Are you ready for an adventure?"

As they set out, the rhythmic clop of hooves against cobblestone gave way to the muffled thud of earth. The misty woods enveloped them, tendrils of fog curling around the horses' legs. Droplets of dew clung to Y/N's eyelashes, refracting the weak sunlight into tiny prisms.

Y/N led the way, her posture relaxed and confident in the saddle. She navigated the invisible path with ease, ducking low-hanging branches and steering around hidden roots. Behind her, she could hear Jace's horse snorting softly, its rider muttering gentle reassurances.

"I can hardly see the path," Jace called out, a note of uncertainty in his voice.

Y/N twisted in her saddle, catching Jace's eye with a mischievous glint in her own. "That's because there isn't one," she replied, allowing a rare, playful smile to cross her features.

The forest was a symphony of morning sounds. Birds trilled their dawn chorus, their songs echoing through the mist-shrouded trees. Small creatures rustled in the underbrush, sending leaves skittering across the forest floor. The earthy scent of damp soil and pine needles filled the air, punctuated by the occasional whiff of wild mint when Y/N's horse trampled a hidden patch.

Hours seemed to pass as they wound their way through the increasingly dense forest. Y/N found herself hyper-aware of Jace's presence behind her. She could feel his eyes on her back, and fought the urge to glance over her shoulder more often than necessary.

Finally, they came upon a rocky outcropping. Y/N dismounted with practiced grace, her boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. She patted her horse's flank, murmuring soft words of thanks. From the corner of her eye, she watched Jace dismount, noting the slight stiffness in his movements after the long ride.

Jace stretched, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. His brow furrowed as he surveyed their surroundings. "My lady," he began, a hint of amusement in his tone, "I hate to question your expertise, but this looks suspiciously like a dead end."

Y/N's laugh echoed off the rocks, startling a nearby bird into flight. "Patience, Your Grace," she said, her eyes twinkling with secret knowledge. "The best treasures are often hidden."

She reached out, taking Jace's hand in hers. His palm was warm against her cool fingers, and she felt a flutter in her stomach at the contact. Pushing the feeling aside, she led him towards what appeared to be a solid rock face.

As they drew closer, a narrow opening revealed itself, barely visible unless one knew exactly where to look. Y/N squeezed through first, tugging Jace along behind her. The passage was tight, the rough stone scraping against their shoulders. Cool, damp air enveloped them, carrying the faint mineral scent of underground water.

Jace's breath was warm on the back of Y/N's neck as they inched forward in the dim light. She was acutely aware of his presence, of the way his chest occasionally brushed against her back in the narrow confines.

Suddenly, the passage opened up. Y/N stepped aside, allowing Jace to fully enter the cavern. She watched his face intently, savoring the moment his eyes widened in awe.

Sunlight streamed through an opening high above, illuminating a spectacular waterfall. The water, tinted an ethereal light blue by minerals in the rock, cascaded down in a thunderous rush before crashing into a pool below. Mist rose from the impact, creating tiny rainbows where the light hit just right.

"By the gods," Jace breathed, his voice barely audible over the roar of the falls. He turned to Y/N, wonder written across his features. "It's incredible."

Y/N felt a warmth bloom in her chest at his reaction. "Welcome to my secret place," she said softly, suddenly feeling shy. "Not even Cregan knows about this."

Jace's gaze softened as he looked at her, something unspoken passing between them. "Thank you for sharing this with me," he said, his voice low and sincere.

They settled on a smooth rock near the pool's edge, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. The mist from the falls cooled their skin, a welcome relief after the long ride. Y/N pulled out a small bundle from her saddlebag - bread, cheese, and a flask of sweet northern ale.

The conversation lulled, replaced by the constant rush of the waterfall. Y/N traced patterns in the damp sand with a stick, her eyes distant. Jace watched her, noting the slight furrow in her brow.

"A copper for your thoughts, my lady?" he asked softly.

Y/N looked up, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. "Just thinking about duties," she said. "They never seem to end, do they?"

Jace nodded, understanding in his eyes. "The burden of our birthrights," he agreed. "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be free of them."

"Free," Y/N echoed, the word hanging in the mist between them. She sighed, tossing the stick into the pool. "Cregan writes often of my duties. He's pressuring me more and more to find a husband."

Jace's expression shifted, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "I... I apologize if I'm intruding, but may I ask why you haven't? Surely you've had no shortage of suitors."

Y/N met his gaze, finding unexpected comfort in the warmth she saw there. "Because I want love," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want a simple life, filled with moments like this." She gestured to the cavern around them. "But how can I promise forever to someone when tomorrow is so uncertain? How can I build a life amidst a war?"

Jace was quiet for a moment, considering her words. "Love in wartime," he mused. "It's not an easy path, but perhaps... perhaps it's the very thing that makes the fight worthwhile."

Y/N felt her heart quicken at his words. "And what of you, Prince Jacaerys? What does your heart seek in these troubled times?"

Jace's gaze softened as he looked at her. "I seek a partner," he said quietly. "Someone to stand beside me, not behind me. Someone who understands duty but hasn't lost sight of dreams." He paused, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Someone who knows the value of secret waterfalls and stolen moments."

The air between them seemed to crackle with unspoken possibility. Y/N felt drawn to him, like a moth to flame, but held herself back. This was not the time, not with so much at stake.

"It seems we both seek something rare and precious," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Jace nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Perhaps the gods will be kind," he murmured.

…

The iron-bound gates of Winterfell groaned open, admitting Y/N and Jace as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was thick with the scent of pine and woodsmoke, punctuated by the sharp tang of approaching frost. Their horses' hooves clattered against the worn cobblestones, the sound echoing off the ancient stone walls.

As they dismounted, Y/N felt the day's exertion in her muscles, a pleasant ache that spoke of adventure and freedom. She caught Jace's eye, noticing how the fading light caught the silver threads in his jerkin, making them shimmer like starlight.

"Jace," she began, her voice low and tinged with an emotion she dared not name, "today was—"

"Lady Y/N! Lady Y/N!" The frantic shout shattered the moment like a stone through ice.

Y/N's transformation was instantaneous and mesmerizing. Her shoulders squared, chin lifting as if an invisible crown had settled upon her brow. The softness in her eyes hardened to flint, sharp enough to cut.

"What is it?" she demanded, her voice crisp as a midwinter morning.

The guard skidded to a halt before them, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "My lady, there's been... an incident. You're needed urgently."

Y/N nodded curtly. "Lead on," she commanded, then turned to Jace. "Your Grace, I must attend to this. Perhaps we could speak later..."

Jace stepped forward, close enough that Y/N could smell the leather of his riding gloves and a hint of something spicy—cloves, perhaps. "If you'll allow me, I'd like to accompany you.”

Y/N hesitated, then inclined her head in agreement. They followed the guard, their footsteps echoing through Winterfell's torch-lit corridors. The warmth of the castle was a stark contrast to the chill outside, yet Y/N felt a different kind of coldness settling in her bones.

They entered a small, dim room that reeked of fear and desperation. A man knelt on the floor, the rattle of his chains a counterpoint to his broken sobs. In the flickering torchlight, his tear-stained face looked ghastly, almost skull-like.

"What has he done?" Y/N's voice cut through the room like a blade.

The man looked up, his eyes wide and pleading. Y/N's voice sliced through the tense atmosphere like a blade, her words sharp and filled with accusation. The man shrunk back in his seat, his eyes wide and pleading as he desperately tried to defend himself.

"My lady," he stammered, "I beg you... I was only going to King's Landing, to pledge myself to King Aegon, my children. Is that such a crime?" His voice trembled with fear and uncertainty, his hands shaking as he awaited her judgement.

Y/N's gaze bore into him, seeking any sign of deceit or treachery. Observation seemed to be her weapon of choice, and she wielded it with expert precision. Y/N's lips thinned. "If you wished to leave, you could have done so freely. We do not hold men against their will in the North. Or have you forgotten our ways so quickly?"

The guard cleared his throat, the sound like gravel underfoot. "There's more, my lady. He attempted to steal half the winter rations and one of our best horses. Caught him in the act, we did."

The man's sobs crescendoed. "You can't behead an innocent man!" he wailed, his voice cracking. "You and Lord Cregan, you'll be the death of House Stark! The North will remember this betrayal!"

Y/N stood motionless, but Jace saw the almost imperceptible tightening of her jaw, the slight tremor in her clenched fists. The room fell silent save for the man's ragged breathing and the soft hiss of the torches.

Her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, her knuckles turning white as she struggled to keep her composure. Jace watched as Y/N stood motionless, her face a mask of stoic determination, but he could see the anger burning in her gaze.

"Send him to the Wall," Jace suggested, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through Y/N's chest. "It's a harsh sentence, yes, but one that allows him to redeem himself in service to the realm."

Y/N turned to him, her eyes unreadable in the dim light. "Or I could let him go," she mused, her voice barely above a whisper. "But then, what message would that send? That theft and betrayal go unpunished in the North?"

"Take his fingers, my lady," the guard interjected. "It's an old punishment, aye, but effective. He'd bear the mark of his crime, but keep his life and limbs... most of them, at least."

Y/N closed her eyes briefly, and in that moment, Jace saw the weight of the North resting on her shoulders. When she opened them again, they gleamed with resolve.

"You've given me much to consider," she said, her voice steady as the foundations of Winterfell itself. "I'll not make this decision in haste. Guard, take him to the cells. See that he's fed and given water. I'll pass judgment when the sun rises."

As the guard led the prisoner away, his pleas fading down the corridor, Y/N turned to Jace. The torchlight cast dancing shadows across her face, highlighting the sharp planes of her cheekbones and the weariness in her eyes.

Jace moved towards Y/N, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. She could feel the heat emanating from his body, a welcome warmth against the coldness that had nestled in her chest. He spoke gently, never breaking eye contact with her. "You carry your burden with grace, my lady," he murmured, his voice deep and soothing.

Y/N held his gaze for a moment, allowing herself to bask in the comfort of his words. But as quickly as it had come, the moment passed. She took a step back, "Grace," she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Grace is a luxury, Your Grace. In the North, we survive on harsher virtues."

Her eyes, once warm and inviting, now held a wintry gleam. The soft curves of her face seemed to harden, as if the very stone of Winterfell was seeping into her bones. With those words, Y/N turned away, her cloak swirling around her like a shroud. As she walked deeper into the shadows of Winterfell's halls, Jace was left with the unsettling feeling that he'd glimpsed not just the Lady of Winterfell, but a portent of the harsh days to come.

The torches guttered in a sudden draft, and for a moment, the corridor was plunged into darkness. When the light returned, Y/N was gone, leaving behind only the echo of her words and the lingering chill of premonition.

...

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nasturtiumloom · 4 months ago

Note

dare i ask for some bruce smut 😋🫶 ALSO do u have a twitter,, I'd love to befriend some DC likers

hellooooo! i do not hav twitter, very sorryヽ(。_°)ノbut ur free to send more requests or questions ! c:

MDNI

The gala had been the usual blend of tedious small talk, business networking, and charitable promises. Bruce Wayne played his role perfectly, charming smiles and practiced lines hiding the dark secrets of his nightly endeavors. You had been at his side the entire evening, serving as both his eye candy and his date. But tonight, Bruce had been more touchy than usual, his hands wandering from the customary polite grip on your hip to grazing your ass, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. He kept glancing over at you, his eyes dark with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Beneath the polite facade, a simmering tension had been building between you both.

The moment you both slipped into the back seat of his sleek, black car, his personality immediately switched. Bruce's lips were on yours, fierce and demanding, his hands roaming your body with a hunger that matched your own.

"You looked stunning tonight," he growled against your lips, his voice a deep, rumbling whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "But I've had enough of sharing you with everyone else."

Before you could respond, his hands were at the hem of your dress, hiking it up to your waist. The cool leather of the car seat against your bare skin was a sharp contrast to the heat of his touch. You gasped as he tore your stockings, the sound of ripping fabric mingling with your ragged breaths.

"Bruce!" you exclaimed, a mix of protest and need in your voice.

"I'll buy you a new one," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I've waited all night for this."

He pulled you onto his lap, your legs straddling him as he gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises. His mouth found your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he worked his way down to your collarbone. You arched against him, the sharp edge of pain mingling deliciously with pleasure.

With a growl, Bruce tore your panties aside, not even bothering to take them off completely. He was past the point of patience, and so were you. You felt the hard length of him pressing against your entrance, and you couldn't help the needy whimper that escaped your lips.

"Is this what you wanted?" he murmured, his voice a rough whisper in your ear. "To be fucked like this? To be used?"

"Yes," you breathed, nodding eagerly, the word a desperate plea as your hips moved against him, seeking more.

He didn't make you wait any longer. With a single, brutal thrust, he buried himself inside you, the force of it making you cry out. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you as you rode him, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

Bruce's control was absolute, his touch possessive. He moved with a raw, primal intensity that left you breathless, every thrust driving you closer to the edge. His mouth was everywhere, kissing, biting, marking you as his.

You could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable. Bruce seemed to sense it too, his grip on you tightening as his pace quickened. His name was a litany on your lips, each syllable a testament to the pleasure he was wringing from you.

As his hips stuttered, Bruce groaned, filling you completely. "You're so tight," he muttered, his voice strained. "So perfect."

His thrusts grew deeper and harder, hitting spots inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes. Tears pricked your eyes as the overwhelming pleasure built, Bruce's relentless pace pushing you to the brink. You clenched around him, your body quivering with the intensity of the sensations he was drawing from you.

"That's it," Bruce praised, his voice rough with desire. "Take me. Take all of me."

Each movement was a delicious torment, your pleasure building higher and higher. Bruce's hands were everywhere, touching, teasing, holding you in place as he took you over and over. His cock moved inside you with a precision that drove you wild, hitting just the right spots to make you gasp and moan.

"You're mine," he growled, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "All mine."

"Yes, Bruce," you gasped, your body trembling with the force of your impending climax. "I'm yours."

His fingers found your clit, rubbing in tight, desperate circles that sent electric shocks of pleasure through you. "Come for me," he demanded, his voice a command that you couldn't disobey. "Come on my cock."

With a scream, you shattered around him, your body convulsing as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Bruce groaned, his hips stuttering as he filled you, his cum hot and thick inside you, flooding you with a warmth that made you moan even louder.

For a long moment, the only sound was the harsh rasp of your breathing, mingling with his. Slowly, reality began to seep back in, and you became aware of the cool leather beneath you, the torn remnants of your stockings, the feel of Bruce's strong arms still wrapped around you.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, a stark contrast to the rough passion of moments before. "You okay?" he murmured, his voice soft now, filled with concern.

You nodded, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. "More than okay."

Bruce chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that you felt more than heard. "Good. Because we're not done yet."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

hope you enjoyed!! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

#loom is babbling.. 𖦹𓂃𖦹 #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne #dc smut #dc x reader

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gravehags · 3 months ago

Text

the fabric of your flesh

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader), Cirrus x f!Reader x Cumulus

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: oh god where to begin, threesome, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), making out, serious relationship conversations, consensual infidelity, titty sucking, QUINT STRAP, masturbation, voyeurism, copia in the cuck chair, copia getting his balls slapped for being a little shit

Words: 7,300

Summary: You've always liked the ghoulettes. Maybe a little too much for your own good.

a/n: this fic takes place sometime after the events of sweet treat, a short little fic i wrote which sets the stage for the events of this piece. this is the longest single thing i've ever written so you know. enjoy lmao.

~~~

“Cardinal, what are your thoughts on sharing?”

Copia sets down the document he was reviewing and leans back in his chair, looking up at the ghoulette looming over his desk.

“It’s eh, a nice concept,” he says slowly, eyes flicking from Cirrus’ face to Cumulus seated behind her. “Is there something you…have in mind?”

“Your girl,” Cirrus says bluntly, and Cumulus yanks her backwards to sit in the chair next to her and give her a stern look. Copia’s eyebrows raise and he reaches up to stroke his mustache.

“What Cirrus was trying to say,” Cumulus begins, giving Cirrus another sideways glance, “is that we noticed there’s some um. Tension. Amongst us. And it’s not romantic,” she says in a rush, raising her hands placatingly when Copia opens his mouth, “we have no designs on her heart. That thoroughly belongs to you. What we mean is ah…more physical.”

A silence falls in the office as Copia watches his ghoulettes carefully while trying to fight back a smile.

“I see,” he says solemnly, leaning forward to steeple his hands, “have you discussed this with her?”

“We didn’t want to uh, step on any toes. So no. Not yet, anyway.”

He lets the silence simmer for a moment, watching Cirrus look around the room and Cumulus anxiously rub her hands. When he begins to laugh it makes both of them jump in their seats.

“Ladies,” he chuckles, “as if I haven’t seen your hungry eyes on her at every turn. I am very glad that you asked me for permission but the person you really need to speak to is her.”

A beat passes.

“So…is that a yes?” Cirrus asks, leaning forward.

“From me, sì. Under one condition, naturalmente.”

The ghoulettes look to one another.

“I get to watch.”

Cirrus snickers and Cumulus smiles.

“Oh that was a given, of course. But…you’re open to it?”

He smiles fondly at them.

“Sì, sì, I think it’s only fair to let her experience being with a woman or, eh. Women. Since she came to me untouched.”

“She what?!”

Once again he has to smother his laughter and instead looks at their gobsmacked faces kindly.

“Oh yes, you didn’t know? Despite her inexperience, however, she’s always been rather eh, voracious. And well…she’s not so inexperienced now I suppose, heh.” His eyes briefly unfocus as his mind conjures images of you in a litany of positions, eagerly and loudly taking him deep inside your–

Cumulus clears her throat politely.

“W-what…what were we talking about?”

“Your mate and her considerable sexual appetite,” Cirrus says wryly. Copia flushes deeply and fusses with his cassock, ignoring the bulge in his lap currently being hidden from view by his desk.

“Eh, right, right. Well as I said, this is ultimately her decision so uh, by all means. I think she’s working in the archives today.”

The ghoulettes stand and Cirrus gives him a slight bow before they turn to leave.

“Best of luck, my ghoulettes,” he calls to them as they walk out, surreptitiously adjusting himself. When the door shuts behind him he sags against the back of his chair.

This is going to prove interesting.

—

“Knock knock.”

You turn to look at the door and see two figures slip into the room - Copia’s ghoulettes, Cumulus and Cirrus. Your face splits in a smile - and your cheeks flush - as you wave the two in.

“Come on in, I’m just going through some of these old purchasing records for the collection. I–sorry, neither of you want to hear about this,” you say sheepishly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Cirrus hops up to sit on one of the research tables while Cumulus leans on it next to her.

“We’d love to hear about it,” Cumulus murmurs.

You laugh. “You’re both very kind but not even Copia can listen to me talk about this kind of thing without nodding off no matter how hard he tries. I won’t subject you to it. How can I help you, though? Surely you didn’t come down here just to see me.”

“And if we did?” Cirrus purrs, leaning forward and putting her palms on her knees. Cumulus shoots her a sideways glance, lips tugging downwards in a slight frown.

There they are. Those butterflies ricocheting off the inside of your stomach every time you have an encounter with the two of them. The butterflies that make you sick if you allow yourself to linger on them. The butterflies that whisper accusations of infidelity in your ear.

“T-Then I’m sorry to disappoint you, ladies, for not being a more entertaining host.”

“Actually,” Cumulus says, her voice soft, “we wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” you’ve abandoned the stack of record books to fidget with your hands.

“Something um, personal.”

Cirrus hops down from the table and slowly begins to advance on you, lips curving into a smile that shows the points of her canines. It’s predatory and devious and utterly delicious and you’re terrified. She backs you against a bookcase and props her hand above your head, her breath stirring the flyaways on the side of your face.

“Cirrus!” Cumulus barks, “You’re freaking her out, knock it off!”

Cirrus whips around.

“What? I just figured the best way to get what we want is to show her what we want.”

“And w-what do you want?”

Your voice is small, your concentration mainly focused on how you’re going to explain this should any unexpected visitors walk in. Cirrus still looms above you but is pulled away roughly by Cumulus, giving you an opportunity to breathe once again.

“Angel,” the shorter ghoulette breathes and the pet name makes your knees wobble traitorously, “We had a conversation with the Cardinal earlier - about this thing going on between the three of us.”

“N-nothing’s going on,” you whisper, panicked. “What…what did you say to him?”

“This is going really well, ‘Lus” Cirrus groans, collapsing in a desk chair.

“Fuck,” Cumulus swears under her breath, “okay let’s back up. Start with the basics. We like you.”

“…I like you too.”

“Allow me to be more specific. We like you. As in we want you.”

Your mouth gapes but no words come out.

“As in,” Cirrus says, spinning in the chair, “as in we want to do filthy, unspeakable, unholy things to you. And don’t act surprised - we can smell it on you. You want it too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoff, cheeks flushed and arms crossed defensively, “I-I would never be unfaithful to Copia, regardless of what you smell on me.”

“We know, hon,” Cumulus murmurs, “which brings us back to the conversation we had with him earlier today.”

“You spoke with him about–about—”

“Sharing you?” Cirrus smirks, “Yeah. And he was open to it, under one condition - and provided that you are open to it, of course.”

“Sharing me? What like some kind of fucked up romantic timeshare situation? He was open to that?”

“Oh, don’t worry - we have no designs on your romantic relationship. We would never do that to the Cardinal. What we propose is purely physical.”

You go quiet for a moment, heart racing.

“What was Copia’s condition? Apart from my consent.”

“He wants to watch,” Cirrus says, lips curling into a filthy grin.

Your cheeks are so hot you swear you’re going to pass out, but no longer from embarrassment or stress.

From arousal.

“The two of you…really want me?”

Both ghoulettes laugh incredulously.

“Is that so hard to believe?” Cumulus says, stepping forward to toy with the loose ends of your hair. “Pretty little thing like you? Always being so sweet to us - to all the ghouls? We would be honored to have you.”

“And have you we would,” Cirrus growls, rising from her seat to advance on you once more, “Over and over until you beg for us to stop. Get you so drunk on pussy you can’t think anymore. All while your beloved mate watches us. So what do you say?”

When your eyes slide closed and head tilts back, a small whimper escapes you and you hear Cumulus sharply inhale.

“Think that’s a ‘yes’, ‘Lus.”

“I want to hear her say it,” Cumulus breathes, “Go on, angel. Tell us what you want.”

“Want…” your voice comes out in a rasp, “want you both. Want you to fuck me until I forget my own name. Want to taste you. And I want Copia to watch as you use my body for your own pleasure. Please. Please I–”

Your words are cut off as Cumulus lunges forward and slides her fingers to cup the base of your skull as her soft lips press against yours. She’s languorous about it - decadent - teasing your mouth open to slide her tongue against yours. You hear Cirrus whine and Cumulus chuckles into your mouth before pulling away. Before you can say a word, the taller ghoulette is upon you, backing you into the bookcase once more. Her kiss is more forceful than Cumulus’ - though no less enjoyable - and you gasp in delight when she slots a firm thigh in between your legs. When your hips rut against her, she pulls back.

“The Cardinal was right,” Cirrus grins, “you are a voracious little thing, aren’t you?”

You laugh, hands brushing her waist.

“He said that about me?”

“Mmhmm,” Cumulus says with a smile, “so…when do you want us?”

“Let me text Copia, tell him to come down here and I’ll let you bend me over a desk right here and now.”

The ghoulettes erupt in laughter.

“Oh no, angel, we’re going to do this right. We want you in a proper bed where we can take our time with you, yeah?”

“Hmm, if you insist,” you say with a pout, cocking your head to the side. “I’ll talk to him and see what works best. Soon.”

Cirrus bends down and drags the tip of her tongue along your lower lip, making you whimper. She steps back, allowing Cumulus to step in and run her lips along your jawline before kissing you softly.

“Can’t wait to give the Cardinal a show,” she breathes. “See you around, angel.”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm, and as soon as they came in, they’re gone. You sigh heavily.

Your conversation with your lover tonight should prove interesting. And you intend on showing him just how thankful you are.

—--

After the two of you converse on the matter - at great length until you’re both exhausted - you’re collapsed halfway on his chest as the two of you catch your breath. As you roll off him, you laugh.

“I gotta be honest, love, I’m a little bit surprised.”

“Hmm?” he says, angling himself to look at you. “What do you mean?”

“This whole thing with the ghoulettes. I never thought you would ever want to uh, share me. Especially considering I have caught you on multiple occasions chastising siblings and ghouls for giving me the once-over.”

“Eh, noticed that, did you?” Copia says, cheeks flushing, “Well, I don’t know. Part of me feels bad for scooping you up before you got a chance to…explore your desires. Especially with women so…” he finishes lamely.

“Uh-huh. Very kind of you. And certainly not because you have a filthy fantasy about watching me get destroyed by two beautiful, infernal women. Surely that has nothing to do with it.”

“Amore!” Copia objects, placing a hand to his heart, “My intentions are pure!”

“Oh, of course,” you smirk, rolling your eyes, “When the ghoulettes approached you, you definitely weren’t thinking about how pretty I’d look getting my titties sucked and pussy ate - my cheeks all flushed and sweaty as I moan wantonly, my eyes on you from the bed while they–”

“Enough!” Copia croaks, head falling back against the pillow. “Cazzo, are you trying to get me to cum in the sheets?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you snark, hand drifting down to cup the length of him. “Though I’m not sure I’ve had enough of you yet, Your Eminence.”

You shift the bedcovers, laying a line of fervent kisses down his chest.

“Again, amore?”

You place several wet kisses to his belly, grinning up at him.

“Don’t say that as if you’re not enjoying every second of this. We spent almost a whole year in each other’s presence without fucking each other’s brains out. That’s a lot of time to make up for, beloved.”

He chuckles, threading his fingers through your hair as you lick a stripe up his cock.

“You’re insatiable, diavoletta mia.”

“That’s what the ghoulettes said that you said about me. As if you didn’t keep me locked in your bedroom for almost three days after the first time we made love.”

“Mmm let’s do that aga–ah!”

You’ve had enough chatter, and show him so by slipping the length of him into your eager mouth. He’s silent for only a moment, hips flexing against you, before he begins babbling praise.

“Perfetta ragazza,” he groans as your head bobs to take him deeper, “you’re too–hnngh–good to this old man. Always knew that–ah–mouth of yours would look good like this. And that tongue, Sathanas…”

You chuckle around him, sliding off just enough to suckle the swollen head, making him moan and fist your hair. He ruts jerkily against you so you hold him down, thumbs caressing his hip bones as your tongue traces up his length.

“You’re right, you know,” he pants, “This–ah–thing with the ghoulettes? S-somewhat selfish reasons. Every time I see you with them I-I picture you in this bed, p-pleasuring each other. I trust them, trust that they will not–ah–overstep–fuck, amore!”

You’ve taken him back as far as you can and swallowed around him, hand gently massaging his balls. His breath comes in sharp whines as he fights to not thrust dumbly into you, chasing his pleasure. He’s close, you can tell by the broken way he spouts his praise, so you double down and hollow your cheeks.

“Cazzo, cazzo, caz–oh dolcezza, j-just like that. A-almost there, fuck baby.”

You pull off him just enough to suck on the head and, resting it on your tongue, your hand rockets up and down the wet length of him. He lifts his head up and looks into your half-lidded eyes and with a groan his cock spasms against your tongue, spurting his seed into your open and eager mouth.

“That’s it, amore, take it,” he sighs, rutting his hips against your mouth, “Fuck, you look beautiful like this.”

Your lips wrap around his softening cock for a moment, sucking any remnants off of him before pulling off with a pop and making a big show of swallowing and sitting back on your haunches. Copia lets out a tired laugh but he’s got a glint in his eye as his gaze roves your naked form.

“Get up here,” he growls, crooking a finger at you. Slowly, you crawl along his body until your breasts are flush against his chest hair and you can feel his breath against your lips.

“No,” he says patiently, raising a finger to tap on his mustache, “here.”

“Again, amore?” you ask, mocking his earlier words.

“Shall I tie you up and hold you down to have my meal instead?” his hands grip at the meat of your ass, urging you upwards. “Come. Here. Now.”

Oh, how you love when the bossy Cardinal comes out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You’re naked and bent over one of the drawers you’ve hijacked from Copia, rifling through various pieces of lace and silk. The man in question is leaning against the doorway to his bedroom, arms crossed as he observes you.

“What’s the fuss, amore?”

“The fuss–” you say, standing up and putting your hands on your hips, “--is I cannot figure out what I’m going to wear for this…rendezvous.”

“Eh, traditionally I think it’s done in the nude.”

You glare at him and brandish a pale pink mesh thong in his direction.

“You know what I mean, I have to make a…a good impression. Sexy. I can’t just answer the door with my tits and coochie out like ‘hello welcome to the filth den’. I mean, come on, I agonized over what to wear when I went to seduce you too.”

“Did you?” he asks, eyebrows raised as he ambles over to you, “Ah, now that was memorable. Seeing you sitting in my chair in that pretty little virginal cream silk slip, waiting for me. Ready for me. Mmm cara, so eager–”

Abruptly he pulls you backwards against his chest, fingers sliding down your belly before teasing at the heat of you.

“Copia, my love, as much as I appreciate where this is going,” you murmur, “they’re going to be here in twenty minutes and respectfully, I’m not giving them sloppy seconds.”

“Ugh, fine,” he growls, relinquishing his grip on you. “What about that eh, dark blue silk piece you have? With the lace along the neckline? It looks so pretty with your hair.”

Huh. There’s a thought.

You bend over to do some more digging - ignoring the way Copia is insistently grinding against your ass - and locate it with a triumphant noise. You turn in his grip and kiss him firmly.

“My love, this was inspired, I–” there’s something familiar nudging against you and you look up at him, “Don’t get excited so soon my love, I’d hate for you to uh - finish before anything even begins.”

“Ah dolcezza, I might be in my fifties but have I not proven to have the stamina of Zeus himself?”

“Zeus, huh?” you say, giving him a look, “I certainly hope you don’t have his sense of fidelity, too.”

He looks affronted. It’s cute.

“Amore, you question my faithfulness? You question my devotion? I would never touch another. You, on the other hand. Oh, you were just waiting for this opportunity, weren’t you?”

He’s got an evil little grin on his face and you know he’s trying to get a rise out of you but your lips dip down into a frown and your heart sinks.

“Copia, you know I would never…maybe this isn’t a good idea,” you sigh deeply, biting your lip as tears well in your eyes.

“Oh amore mio,” he says softly, cupping your cheeks in his hands, “I was only teasing! If you are not comfortable with this, say the word and I will end it immediatamente. Truly though, it’s okay, huh? People do eh, exploring all the time while still maintaining loyalty to a partner. And I trust both them and you. My desires are inconsequential - but allow me to give you this gift, sì?”

You nod slowly.

“I love you,” you murmur, reaching up to take his hands in yours, “so much. So much it scares me sometimes, you know? I would never, ever want to do anything that would hurt you.”

He kisses each of your hands.

“And I love you. I know you wouldn’t hurt me but if you have any uncertainty, know that I am A-OK with this. Prometto. Nothing will ever come between us but Sathanas you are going to look so lovely spread out beneath them. On top of them. Sideways, even.”

You sniffle and laugh.

“Hmm,” your eyes glaze over for a moment, “what do you think they’re going to do to me, Cope?”

“Anything. Everything. Kiss and lick and suck and fuck…they’re going to take you apart, dolcezza.”

You shiver.

“Getting me all worked up, Cardinal,” you breathe, the tip of your tongue sliding out to wet your lips.

“I would be a poor host if I did not, eh, ready the party favor, hmm?”

Stepping back with a smile, you slide the midnight blue slip over your head and look in the mirror to loosen your hair from its messy bun.

“Perfetta,” Copia whispers, watching you adjust strands so they fall just right, “they will not be able to resist you.”

“And I will not offer any resistance,” you say quietly, turning away from the mirror to face your beloved. You smooth your hands down the front of his black suit and smile.

“I can do this,” you murmur, those familiar butterflies back in your stomach.

“Only if you want to but yes, I believe you can,” he smiles, fussing at your hair. Abruptly, you grab him by the back of the head and slot your lips against his in an aggressive kiss that slowly turns more lazy and soft. You feel a throb from between your thighs as he whimpers when you suck on his tongue and slowly pull away.

“Good luck tonight,” you purr, “don’t give up the game too quickly, hmm?”

He laughs.

“I had plenty of solo practice drawing things out before we got together, thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah?” you say, cocking your head, “Surely you weren’t thinking of me any of those times…”

“Surely not,” he shakes his head with a smile, “Surely there was another curator who liked to smile at me so prettily and shake her ass so tantalizingly whenever she walked in front of me in tight little skirts. That curator was always so kind to this lecherous old Cardinal. Mmm she was so sweet and soft and–eh, what were we talking about?”

“How you used to shamelessly jack off after staring at my ass?”

“No, no, that was the other curator–”

You roll your eyes and reach your hand down to cup his bulge, making him whine and buck into your touch.

“Easy, dolcezza, easy…I am in a fragile state.”

“‘Fragile state’ my ass,” you grin, “I’ve seen you roll off of me and not ten minutes later hop back on like I’m a pony at a state fair.”

“Ah, not entirely accurate,” he says, lifting a pedantic finger, “you are slightly nicer looking than a pony.”

You slap his balls sharply, causing him to double over with a yelp.

“Just for that, I’m definitely going to leave you for a ghoulette now. Maybe a ghoul too. Who knows?”

“Amore!” he wheeze-laughs, comically cupping himself, “be sweet to me, huh? I might not survive tonight after watching what they do with you…”

“Povera mia,” you croon, “to be fair, I might not survive, myself. I–”

Three knocks sound at the door to Copia’s quarters and you exhale heavily.

“Do you want me to–”

“Yeah,” you nod, walking over to the bed and lowering yourself to sit on the end, facing the doorway. Your heart thuds in your chest as you watch your beloved amble over to the door and open it, smiling when you hear his familiar odd little noises as he stands aside and gestures for your guests to come in. When the ghoulettes step through the threshold your breath catches in your throat. It’s not exactly that you’d forgotten how beautiful they both are but Sathanas it continuously takes you by surprise. They’re both wearing casual clothing - Cirrus in a large t-shirt and basketball shorts and Cumulus in a floral robe - and an anxious laugh bleats out of you before you can smother it. Cumulus is preoccupied with saying something to Copia but Cirrus hears it and gives you a sly grin and a cocked brow. When Copia extends his arm to gesture towards you, your heart plummets into your stomach.

“He–” your voice comes out thick and croaky, “hey, you two. P-please, come in.”

Cumulus favors you with a soft, reassuring smile as she comes to sit next to you. Cirrus plops down on the other side, a hand pushing into the plush red duvet.

“Nice place,” she says, looking around the paneled room, “really elegant.”

“Not my place,” you admit sheepishly, “this is all him.” You point to Copia, who is busy settling into the high backed chair in the corner of the room. He smiles.

“Don’t let her fool you, her room is just as nice. Lots of blues. You’d like it, Cumulus.”

The aforementioned ghoulette laughs quietly, and when she reaches up a hand to brush your hair off your shoulder you want to kick yourself for the way you jump.

“Nervous, angel?” Cirrus asks, flopping backwards onto the bed and letting her fingers dance at the small of your back. You laugh, too loud.

“Y-yeah. Yeah I’m really fucking nervous.”

“What part are you nervous about, sweetheart?” Cumulus asks, shifting her body to face you.

“Uh…everything? The fact that I’ve never been with anyone but Copia, the fact that I’m committing physical infidelity, the fact that you two are so goddamn beautiful, the fact that the man I love is going to be watching…take your pick.”

“Amore, if my presence is causing you any grief I would be happy to le–”

“No,” you say quickly, and you hate the panic in your voice, “No. Please, I need you here. You know how I am, it’s the anxiety. I want to do this for you.”

“For yourself too, I hope,” Cirrus comments from her spot behind you, “unless we’ve been misreading the vibes…?”

“No. Not at all. The vibes are…absolutely there. Incredibly there, in fact. I-I want this,” you look to Cumulus, “I want you. Both.”

“Atta girl,” Cirrus purrs and you don’t even have to look at her to know she’s got a filthy grin curling her lips, “come on, angel. We’ll put on a good show for the Cardinal.”

You look over at Copia, the rapid rise and fall of his chest from the promises of what lie ahead making you ache. Cirrus stands, taking off her shirt in a smooth motion and tossing it to the floor.

“C’mon,” she says, shimmying her shorts and underwear off and climbing onto the bed, “get over here.”

Cumulus snorts as she gets up and you turn, crawling towards Cirrus who is resting against the pillows. When you settle in next to her you finally get a good look at her - all long legs and rounded hips and dusky nipples. You know you’re breathing too loud and then out of the corner of your eye you see Cumulus drop her robe. Cirrus’ chuckle at the whine that comes out of you fans your hair, which she idly twirls between her fingers.

“Perfect, isn’t she?” she asks, looking over at the other ghoulette. You nod. Perfect is an understatement. A rounded belly, large, lush breasts and generous thighs between which are nestled a thatch of white curls. Her tail waves lazily behind her as she uses her hands to trace the path of your gaze. She approaches the other side of the bed and slides in behind you.

“This is pretty,” Cumulus comments, fingers brushing the hem of your blue slip, “keep it on for a little longer, hmm? I like the way it looks on you.”

You nod dumbly and shift to lie on your back. When you do, you catch a glimpse of Copia in the corner. His hand rests in his lap, fingers twitching towards his bulge but he doesn’t touch himself. Not yet. His eyes gleam at you. You’ve got your hands folded on your belly trying desperately not to gawk at either of the beautiful, nude women you’re sandwiched in between.

“Can we touch you?” Cirrus murmurs, ghosting a hand over you.

“Please. Please.”

She smiles and when she lowers her hand to brush against your own you let out a deep exhale. All she’s doing is letting her fingertips glide along the backs of your hands, but it makes you dizzy. When Cumulus reaches down to brush along your thigh, your breath hitches in your throat.

“So sensitive,” Cumulus breathes, dragging her fingers up and over your hip to cradle your belly. You had almost forgotten how the two of them sport a cooling touch - something that comes rocketing back when you feel the almost painful tautness of your nipples. Judging from the low noise that comes out of Cirrus, she’s noticed it too.

“Mmm, pretty little thing,” she purrs, reaching a hand to cup your breast and thumb your nipple through the fabric, “Already so excited for us, ‘Lus.”

“Sure is,” Cumulus agrees, her lips tracing the shell of your ear, “Tell us what you want, angel.”

“K-kiss me. Please.”

“Begs pretty, too,” Cirrus chuckles, “Can’t wait to hear more of that later when I’m making you see stars. Go on, ‘Lus. You’re the one who couldn’t stop talking about her lips.”

Your head turns slightly to face the shorter ghoulette, stomach swooping when she leans in and blows against your lips. You shiver comically and with a smile she reaches a hand up to cup your cheek.

“Ready?” she asks, so softly only you can hear. You nod. When she leans in to capture your lips with hers, you feel as if a dam has broken inside you. All your previous hesitation is gone as you bury your fingers into her curls and pull her towards you, tongue dancing with hers. She’s just as decadent about it as you remember from that day in the archives, soft and yielding as you whimper into each other’s mouths. You’re vaguely aware of Cirrus breathing a curse next to you as Cumulus drapes her body halfway onto yours, hands kneading flesh through fabric. And speaking of fabric–

“This has to come off. Now.” Cumulus groans while pulling away for breath. She’s got one hand gripping the hem of your slip and eagerly shimmying it off your body, pausing to let you lift your hips and sit up to expedite its removal. When the offending garment is finally off, Cumulus skillfully tosses it over to Copia, who catches it with a gasp. You see him press the silk to his cheek, savoring the remnants of warmth from your body and the sight makes you feral.

“Well, well, well, look at you,” Cirrus breathes with a small laugh, “just as soft and lovely as we always knew you would be, right ‘Lus?”

You don’t wait to hear Cumulus’ answer before lunging upwards and slotting your lips against Cirrus’. The taller ghoulette is shocked for only a moment before gripping your thigh and hitching it up on her hip. Where Cumulus’ kiss felt like a dance, Cirrus’ feels like a domination and one you are more than happy to yield to. Teeth chase tongues and when her claws bite into the meat of your waist, you whine into her mouth. When she pulls away you pursue her but she pushes you down into the mattress.

“The Cardinal was right about you,” she grins, “Filthy little thing.”

“If you’re this eager for him, I understand him keeping you from the ghouls,” Cumulus murmurs, “Lucky he likes us best. Shame for the boys, but we’re perfectly fine keeping you all to ourselves.”

“Poor Aether,” Cirrus laughs, “wants you so bad and can’t have you. We promise we won’t be mean and tell him anything about tonight. Much.”

Your head is spinning with arousal, the thought of the ghoulettes tormenting the strong ghoul with sordid details about bedding you causing your clit to throb. Before you can linger on it any further, Cumulus drags her tongue over your clavicle, making you shiver. As if coordinated, both ghoulettes slide down your body until their breath ghosts over your nipples. Your cheeks are hot as Cirrus flicks the tip of her tongue out to graze it. Teasingly she drags the muscle around your areola, avoiding where you want her most and making you whimper pathetically.

“Don’t be cruel, Cir,” Cumulus chastises, placing soft, sucking kisses into the meat of your breast.

“Wanna hear how pretty she begs for me,” she says, smoothing a hand over your belly, “Come on angel, tell me what you want.”

“Suck my tits,” you eke out and Cirrus laughs.

“Oh, the Cardinal’s delicate flower knows how to be direct. I like that,” she pulls back slightly and turns her head to address Copia, “She always this good for you?”

“Better,” you hear Copia rasp and another throb thrums from between your legs.

“Well,” she says, turning her attention back to your breast, “good girls always get what they ask for, right ‘Lus?”

“Then quit talking and fucking give it to me already,” you grit out. Cumulus lets out a delighted noise and Cirrus’ claws bite into your flesh before she drags the flat of her tongue over your hardened nipple. When she finally wraps her lips around the bud and sucks, your hand flies to the back of her head. She’s vicious with her attentions, nipping with sharp canines - Cumulus on the other hand returns to sucking bruises into your other breast, her hand drifting further south. When she firmly cups your mound in her palm a sigh escapes you.

“So good,” you murmur, stroking Cirrus’ dark hair. The tall ghoulette pulls off you with a pop and gives you a grin. Gently, you urge Cumulus back up to face you so you can slide your lips against hers, hand kneading her breast.

“She likes that,” Cirrus breathes, “Loves having her tits played with.”

You moan into Cumulus’ mouth before pulling back for breath. With a firm shove you push the shorter ghoulette flat on her back, dragging your tongue down her sternum. As soon as your lips make contact with her nipple she lets out a whine that goes straight to your cunt. You lap eagerly, rolling her other bud between your fingers as Cirrus settles in behind you to place wet kisses on your shoulder. Out of the corner of your eye you see Copia with his cock in his gloved hand, panting as he stares at you. You’re filled with affection and, with an immense desire to put on a good show for him, you sit up and swing your leg over Cumulus to straddle her. Cirrus falls on her back, clapping as you lower your mouth to sloppily kiss Cumulus.

“Mmm, initiative,” Cirrus purrs, sitting up and delivering a sharp, pleasurable slap to your ass that jolts you forward, “we like that. Keep going, girls. I’ll be back.”

You pull away and grasp for Cirrus, who slides off the bed and reaches to a bag you hadn’t seen either of them come in with. Before you can see what she pulls out, Cumulus grabs the back of your head and pulls you down to where she can drag her teeth along your throat. Her claws scrape at your scalp and you delightedly let her tug you where she wants you. Something about the way her belly presses against yours makes you flush from head to toe. You feel…decadent. Hedonistic. It’s intoxicating and you want nothing more than to show the ghoulette beneath you exactly how good she’s making you feel.

“I know that look,” Cirrus says with a grin, “go on, angel. Make her sing for you.”

I’m going to make you sing, bellezza.

Instantly, you’re taken back to your first night with Copia and you let out a breathy laugh before looking down at Cumulus, who gazes up at you with pupils blown.

“I’ve never done this before,” you murmur and she smiles.

“You’re more familiar with the terrain than you realize. I’ll tell you what feels good, okay?”

You nod and slowly begin to maneuver yourself down her body, kissing and licking every inch of skin available to you. When you settle between her spread thighs and place a kiss to her mound, she lets out a soft sigh. Delicately, you use your thumbs to spread her open and immediately begin salivating when you see how deliciously wet she is. She twitches when your heavy exhale ghosts over her cunt.

“Go on, pretty girl,” you hear Cirrus say encouragingly from behind you, her hands smoothing over your hips. “I’ve got something real special for you.”

As your lips make contact with Cumulus’ slick folds you gasp. Behind you, Cirrus drags the head of what you assume is a silicone cock through your own folds, causing you to arch your back. When you pull away to look back at her she chides you.

“Keep your eyes on the prize, angel. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Well. You don’t need telling twice.

With as much fervor as you kissed her, you slide your lips and tongue over her folds, delighting in the way her hand flies to your hair. She’s right, of course, you’re familiar with the general terrain and when the tip of your tongue grazes her swollen clit, she gasps your name. From behind you, you feel the head of the cock drag through your folds again and gently, Cirrus eases the thick tip inside you. You whine into Cumulus’ cunt, hungry for more, but Cirrus holds your hips steady to keep you from bucking backwards.

“Sweet–ah–sweet Aether…used his quintessence on this strap, you know that? Makes it feel like it’s actually a part of me. Poor ghoul had n-no idea who it was going to be used on. Keep going, angel. Want to see you t-take her apart.”

Panting and desperate for her to fill you up, you lower your mouth again to lap up Cumulus’ slick. When your tongue eases inside her she lets out a loud, long moan.

“Good girl,” Cirrus breathes, “g-good–fuck.”

Fuck is right. With agonizing slowness she pushes the strap in and your jaw hangs open at the stretch. Copia is nothing to sneeze at, and he’s thick too, but this you feel in your guts. Your arms wobble as they struggle to hold you up and when Cirrus bottoms out with a groan you let out a pathetic whimper.

“H-how does she feel, Cir?”

You can hear Cirrus panting roughly behind you, hands smoothing over your ass.

“Unholy fucking hell, ‘Lus, hot and wet and t-tight, fuck. I–”

You squeeze around her as hard as you can and Cirrus cuts off with a sharp gasp and a broken moan. When you crane your head to look at her over your shoulder, you give her a grin and she lets out a breathy laugh.

“Oh Cardinal, she’s wicked.”

You hear Copia let out a low chuckle from behind you and it makes your cunt spasm around Cirrus.

“Finish your task, angel,” she coos and you glance up at Cumulus who looks down at you and wets her lips. Feeling deliciously full of both Cirrus’ cock and renewed fervor, you lower your head and slowly drag your tongue though her folds.

“That’s it,” Cirrus murmurs, slowly pulling out of you then pushing back in, “c’mon baby, show her how much you like her.”

So you do.

You’ve got your hands wrapped around Cumulus’ generous thighs, fingers digging hard enough to bruise as you alternate between fucking her with your tongue and circling her clit. Cirrus’ thrusts are deep and forceful, pumping in and out of you while streams of filth slide out of her mouth.

“That’s it, honey,” Cumulus whimpers from above you, burying her fingers in your hair and bucking her hips against your mouth, “so good for me, right there, right–fuck!”

Her praise ceases as you wrap your lips around her clit and suck. Cirrus moans and her pace quickens, fucking into you with less and less abandon. From behind you you hear a strangled amore mio and you know that Copia is close. The visual of his gloved hand wetly sliding along his cock, the taste of Cumulus beneath you, and the mounting pressure of Cirrus’ cock inside you make you feel like you’re going insane. Your moans are muffled, your mouth thoroughly occupied with suckling at Cumulus’ swollen clit while she cries out above you.

“Please, please, please,” she whines, “so close, so fucking close honey, don’t stop!”

You double down and take a page from Copia’s playbook, taking a finger and teasing at her entrance. Slowly, you sink it in knuckle deep and crook it searching for that sweet spot. When she screams your name you know you’ve found it, delighting in the way her cunt clenches around you. When she shatters, she pulls your hair hard enough to hurt but you don’t care, not with the way she whimpers your name like a prayer. The sounds she makes only inflame your passion further and you want nothing more than to wrench another orgasm out of her but suddenly she’s pushing you away. Taking the hint you pull back and suddenly Cirrus’ hand wraps around your shoulder.

“My turn,” she snarls, yanking you towards her and causing your back to arch. Her steady thrusts become sharper, harder, as she pounds into you and makes you see stars. Wrapping her hand around your throat she pulls your back flush against her.

“Look at him,” she growls, her breath hot in your ear, “Look at what you do to him.”

You turn your head to look at your beloved and a gasp hiccups out of your throat. He’s hunched in on himself, gazing up at you with his paints streaked down his face and his mouth hung open in a moan. His hand squeezes at his reddened, leaking cock, hips fucking upwards into his fist. Cirrus holds you in place, her hand seeking your sweat-slick breast to pinch sharply at your nipple as she fucks ruthlessly into you. You cry out, pushing backwards to meet her thrusts.

“I know you’re close, angel,” she groans, hips jackhammering into you hard enough you can’t catch your breath, “mmm fuck gonna–ah–gonna fill this pretty little cunt up. Gonna–ah-ah-fuck, baby!”

“Give it to me, Cir,” you whine, “just like that, j–Copia!”

You cum with a cry, watching as Copia spasms, painting his fist and chest with rope upon rope of his seed. Behind you Cirrus thrusts three times more before you feel her fill you up. You’re trembling in her tight grip as she empties herself into you, her forehead pressed against your shoulder. Copia is looking at you with nothing but pure adoration as you struggle to catch your breath. A silence settles among the four of you and you break Copia’s gaze to look down at Cumulus.

“Beautiful,” she breathes with a wide smile, “fucking beautiful. Look at you.”

You let out a short, delirious laugh and Cirrus mouths weakly at your shoulder.

“You were perfect,” she murmurs into your ear, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “just like we knew you’d be. Wasn’t she, Cardinal?”

Copia’s head is tipped back against the chair, eyes trained on the ceiling.

“She always is. Always. Amata mia.”

Gently, Cirrus extricates herself from you and the slide of the rigid silicone dildo as it exits your cunt makes you gasp. Weakly, you crawl forwards to Cumulus’ embrace and collapse next to her. Cirrus follows after a moment, slipping in beside you.

“So, how was it?”

Your gaze lingers on the canopy above you and you tip your head to lean against Cumulus.

“Wow,” you say with a dazed smile, “women, huh?”

Cirrus barks out a laugh. You feel your eyelids get heavy as you watch Copia get up and go into the bathroom.

“Don’t fall asleep on us,” Cumulus nudges you, “we’re not done with you yet.”

You whine but you can’t deny the delicious ache coming from between your thighs.

“I’m gonna need a snack, then,” you say with a sigh.

“Anything you want, bellezza,” Copia says, returning to the bedroom, half cleaned up, “I am your servant.”

Hmm. Now that’s a thought.

“Bring me some grapes, a bag of chips, and a pint of ice cream and I’ll show the girls how pretty I look when I bounce on your cock, huh?”

Cumulus lets out a soft gasp and Cirrus’ eyebrows shoot up.

“What flavor?” Copia rasps out, reaching down to adjust the bulge in his pants.

Mmm. You could get used to this.

#curator reader series #cardinl copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #cirrus x reader x cumulus #cirrus x reader #cumulus x reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

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lexsssu · 11 months ago

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Tame (Ren Kouen)

TAGS: Kouen/Dragoness!reader pining, arranged marriage, smut, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

The first time he met you, you were a vision in pure ivory as the pearly tresses that crowned your head tumbled down your shapely back in rippling waves. A blinding white light glowed in your dainty hands as you flew in the air with the great wings upon your back.

“ [̷̙̠̣̆͠I̸̭͑̊ġ̴̥̬n̶̩̯̈́̿i̵̥̝̘͌̕͝ṣ̶̳̦͑ ̴̪͝M̴̼̥̌͌͝a̶̫̾́̄x̴̱̉͝i̷͇͘m̶̻̳̎̚ȧ̴̬]̴̩̒ “

An explosion akin to the same that created the universe itself turned everything white and for a moment Kouen thought that he would be engulfed and reduced into nothingness.

“Sorry about that. But I got you now, Kouen-san”

He feels a pair of soft arms circling his narrow waist and a comforting heat press against his body as if to shield him.

The crimson-haired prince doesn’t remember passing out, regaining awareness as he found himself laid on the ground surrounded by his family and subordinates who all fussed over him. However, there was no sign of you anywhere near him and it is only when he meets with the Sindria faction that he spots you beside one of the generals, most likely your father or older brother given the draconic features you both sported and the protective stance he was in.

Following behind Drakon as your group approached the Kou Empire faction, you couldn’t help but feel as if you were being watched. You simply brushed it off however, surmising that it was probably just a curious onlooker intrigued by your rather exotic characteristics seeing as you and your adopted father made for quite the pair on the battlefield.

You never catch the heated coral eyes that never stray from your figure during the whole exchange.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second time Kouen properly meets you, you are a vision in red. The traditional crimson bridal attire of his kingdom adorns your body beautifully, contrasting against your snowy locks and silvery facial scales, making them stand out even more.

While he did want to meet you again, the last place he’d imagined it was within your bridal chambers as the both of you were wedded to one another as part of a political alliance that ensured continued peace and even mutual aid between Sindria and the Kou Empire. It was inevitable that he would marry for political reasons even before he became the crown prince, but it still feels like a blur that he’d suddenly found himself about to consummate his marriage with the object of his apparent interest.

“Please be gentle with me.” Bashful golden eyes tried to focus on anything except the man, unwilling to meet his gaze as this was obviously a first for their owner.

You’d never even had a boyfriend back in your old world and yet now you’re already married and about to lose your purity!

Despite the power this new body of yours possessed, it trembled and shook ever so slightly in nervousness and anticipation. It doesn’t even occur to you that you’ve closed your eyes until the prince’s low chuckles slithered into your ears and his rough hand grabbed a hold of your chin to tilt your head up.

“Don’t worry, dear wife. Tonight I shall pamper and worship you the way you ought to be.”

There is no time for you to digest his words as you found your mouth muffled and pried open by another pair of ruthless lips, his longer and more skillful tongue laying claim to every corner of your mouth as if it were territory to be subjugated. Your inexperienced self was no match against the healthy virile man who was not just a leader amongst his people, but also a Dungeon Capturer who wielded multiple djinn under his control.

Kouen’s hands weren’t idle as they pinched, groped, and kneaded your body until finger-shaped bruises joined the litany of lovebites he’d left with his mouth and tongue. There was barely anything you could do other than squeak, whimper, moan, and cry out as your body was played with until your toes curled thanks to your first orgasm of the night.

The red blush that decorated your cheeks and the dazed expression on your face has the crimson-haired male utterly hard, his cock pressing insistently against the fabric of his own wedding garb. Though he was never as depraved or fond as other men with pleasures of the flesh, there was something about seeing someone so powerful being completely under his mercy. The way your body was so responsive to his touch has his own burning hotter than he’d ever thought possible.

“Bear the pain for now. I promise it will feel good for you soon.”

His gruff voice momentarily snaps you out of your post-orgasm haze, blinking slowly as he finally takes off his clothes to reveal toned pecs, firm abs, and a delicious v-line that trailed all the way downwards into the pulsing girth of his heavy cock. The tip dripped beads of pearly essence, seemingly inviting you to taste it for yourself. However, that was something that had to wait because Kouen was already rubbing the length of his dick onto your drooling lips, the viscous and clear pussy juice coating his pulsating organ until it was fully lubed up.

“Such a generous hole. Squirting so much just so I can fuck it easily...I think it deserves a reward…” His narrowed eyes, the subtle smirk upon his handsome face, and his lewd words has you turning red all the way up to the tips of your ears.

And yet, you couldn’t help but rub your legs as the spot in between them only burned hotter and seemed to weep as it ached for your new husband’s cock.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait any longer as the prince grasped the base of his member which was the thickest part of him before nudging the head against your tight hole until the head finally went in. You bit your lip as you felt your cunt slowly being spread open, while not painful there was still a certain weirdness about the feeling of such a small hole being forced wider.

It was at that point that Kouen slammed the rest of his impressive girth in a single thrust, coaxing a mixture of a gasp and a moan as your smaller body accepted such a long and hard foreign object inside. You felt so full at that very moment while he couldn’t help but feel as if he were swimming in heaven right now as the moist walls trapped his dick in their velvety depths, seemingly unwilling to let him pull back even an inch.

None of the servants stationed outside the quarters could enter even as hours passed by. It was only during the wee hours of the morning that the prince himself exited his chambers, ordering them to wait on his princess hand and foot lest they want to be out of a job and without their life.

Meanwhile, you slept blissfully unaware of everything else as the sun rose high in the sky.

When Kouen returns after his morning rituals, he is treated to the sight of your ivory tresses spread across the expanse of your shared bed. The blankets haphazardly thrown across the bed, leaving you naked and displaying your tempting body that had yet to heal from his intense pampering the night before.

Though he is self-disciplined as expected of a crown prince and a son of the Kou Empire, no sane man can ever fend off the feminine wiles of his new wife especially when she seemed to spread herself so provocatively for his viewing pleasure.

That is why you wake up in the midst of yet another orgasm as Kouen hugged your waist from behind, his powerful hips snapping up in rapid bursts as he pumped his cum into your own leaking cunt.

“Who’d have thought that I’d have a succubus for a wife? Hn. Very well, I’ll be sure to tame you by pumping you full until you’re practically dripping my seed and carrying my heir.”

#lexsssu writes #magi #magi x reader #magi the labyrinth of magic #magi kingdom of magic #magi the kingdom of magic #ren kouen #ren kouen x reader #crossposted on ao3

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mothballmilkshake · 3 months ago

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Today I am sharing @ararouge work for chapter 4 in my RadioApple series, Melancholy Moods and Broken Boundaries

A snippet:

The mood in the motel was morose, even Angel picking up on Charlie's lacklustre enthusiasm for the day to day activities. And still nobody would say anything to explain what was going on.

At Cherri Bomb's insistence, Charlie and her entourage had agreed to go out for the day – the explosive cyclops was evidently as confused by the melancholy sweeping the hotel as Alastor was, and ordered everyone to get dressed and go with her to a new entertainment complex that had opened in town.

Alastor politely declined the invitation, much to certain hotel members relief.

Shortly after they had left, the acid rain started. Torrents of rain, bucketing down over the hotel, hissing against the protective layers of power keeping the building standing. Alastor watched from his rooms as the garden Charlie had hopefully planted smoked and collapsed.

It seemed as though the others would be out for slightly longer than intended, if this downpour kept up.

It was the perfect time to make his way to Lucifer's rooms on foot, no risk of being seen approaching the king's quarters.

Time to wrest an answer from the king about why he'd been locked away for so long, why he'd set up that barrier.

Striding down the long hallway that separated their quarters on the top floor, Alastor prepared a litany of biting comments in his head to chastise the king for his inattention – not only to him, which was offensive enough, but to his own daughter, whom he claimed to be here to support. That should knock some sense into the man, if nothing else would.

He rapped smartly on the king's door – and that was another annoyance, the fact that he actually had to knock – and stood with his hands folded at the small of his back, quietly seething at the time it took the fallen angel to answer. He could hear the sounds of footsteps inside, finally approaching the entrance.

The insult he had been about to deliver died on his tongue when the door opened, just enough that he could see Lucifer's face staring up at him. A face which looked...

Well, frankly, it looked awful.

#radioapple #appleradio #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin fanfic #mothball fics #hazbin fanart #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin lucifer #hazbin alastor #duckiedeer #soft alastor #depressed lucifer

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drumlincountry · 9 months ago

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Hi its my blog i get to do leftist infighting if I want

My big problem with ... left wing political parties is that they attract people who have good hearts, a clear vision of what is wrong with the world, & the will to act and then they like…. warp their perspective? & these people stop operating like "I want to do good....things are good when they make life freer and more just. Things are bad when they make life less free and less just. I will do things that are good and work against things that are bad." and start operating like "I want to do good...because The Party is the tool we use to make the world better, things are good when they are good for The Party and things are bad when they're bad for The Party. I will do things that are good for The Party and work against things that are bad for The Party"

#It's just the one left wing party really but I try not to do leftist in fighting!!#So I am not naming it #Fuck em tho #Turning up in my meetings and shit #Most effective litany against running for local politics lol #I feel bad complaining. Poor americans don't have any leftist parties to complain about #Me fein #Politics

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not-terezi-pyrope · 1 year ago

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So, are we reaching the point in the AI discourse yet when it is acceptable to point out that these kinds of posts are insane hysteria, or am I still meant to pretend that this is a reasonable reaction to ML/AI advances in polite company?

"A lich reanimating the corpse of humanity" "the most harmful thing to the human species besides climate change" this is deranged. Why are people incapable of having actual discussions about AI/how to handle automation and not talking about the former like they're reading a litany against Satan incarnate?

#not-terezi-speaks #Ai #Csa mention cw

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disastersareajoy · 1 year ago

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The Shower Incident

Stu x Billy x FEM!Reader

Tags: Sex toy, masturbation, voyeurism for a sec, dirty stuff happens in the shower obviously, dirty talk, degradation, praise, lots of kissing, marking, handjob, edging, begging, slight dacryphilia, mention of denial, mention of being tied up, mention of oral (fem receiving, and giving to a toy), mention of double penetration, mention of anal (fem and male receiving), open end, Sub!Reader, Dom!Billy, implied Switch!Stu but mostly Sub!Stu

Hiya babes!

I had this idea and it wouldn't leave me alone the entire day so I wrote it down and if I do say so myself: This shit is pretty hot.

I'm super glad my first public fic is with these two idiots because I love them to the moon and back and cannot get enough of them. I hope you enjoy this wild ride - I know I did. I wrote this in like an hour and then proofread it four times total, but English isn't my first language so if you see any mistakes feel free to (politely) let me know and I will fix it. Same as any tags I missed. Of course, non mistake related comments are also very welcomed. I hope you thouroughly enjoy this product of my brain rot! Let me know what ya think.

Stu and Billy had been away for a few days and you were needy. Wanting to be bent over and fucked hard and rough, four hands gripping at your body and manipulating you into whatever position they desire. They were supposed to come back in the evening so you wanted to take a shower before then.

That's when the idea struck.

You practically stumbled over your own feet to get to the closet and pull out the box of toys the three of you had accumulated over time.

You picked out your favorite dildo and quickly made your way to the bathroom. With the help of the suction cup the toy stuck to the shower wall. After cleaning yourself in record speed you bent over and pushed back onto the dildo. It filled you slowly and stretched you perfectly. Your wetness made the intrusion easy but the thickness of the toy still made you pause, and forced you to take a couple of deep breaths. Although it wasn't long before you were fucking yourself back onto it and completely loosing your mind in the process. Moaning their names and begging into the empty room.

At the same time Billy and Stu were on their way up to your shared apartment. The two of them decided to surprise you by coming home a couple hours early so you could eat dinner together and cuddle up in front of the TV.

When they came through the front door and weren't immediately met with your smiling face, kissing and hugging them in greeting, they were a bit perplexed.

That was until they heard the shower running.

And then they heard a litany of moans, accompanied by a loud slapping sound of skin against tile. They shared a look and ventured closer to the bathroom door which you had left open a crack in your hurry to fuck yourself.

The sight they find absolutely takes their breath away. The shower is on and water is hitting your back as you're bent over nothing, supporting yourself with your hands against the wall as you continuously slam your ass back onto the dildo stuck to the tile wall. They can see the toy glistening with your wetness and someone lets out a groan. You don't hear it and keep moving your hips with a clearly desperate and already fucked out sway to it.

They're both stuck in their spot, staring at the divine sight that is you. The way your body moves to get the perfect angle of the dildo, your thighs trembling with exertion and your hand aimlessly sliding against the wet wall, trying desperately to hold onto something. The way your pussy stretches to accommodate for the thickness of what they recognize as your favorite dildo. The one that you love sucking on when they both have you filled. Or that you love for them to fuck you with when they're getting your ass ready and you already need your pussy filled.

The dildo that's been in all of your holes to help pleasure, tease, edge and make you cum. They can't get enough of watching you throw yourself onto the dildo, making such loud and obscene noises.

What finally gets them to snap out of the trance your body has put them in is your next moan.

“Billy, please.” You interrupt yourself with another desperate whine. “Fuck, please fuck me harder. I need you so bad. Oh my god, Stu.” You elongate the end of Stu's name with a loud moan that's closer to a sob if anything. With the way your hips tilted, Billy suspects you found the perfect angle to hit that special spot inside you. Next to him, Stu breathes out a small moan and looks at Billy with a plea in his eyes.

“Go.”

With the okay given, Stu bursts through the door and is on you in no time. He grabs your face in both hands and barely sees your eyes open in surprise before he has his mouth pressed to yours. Desperately making out with you while making sure you're still fucking yourself onto the dildo. He mumbles out praises between kisses, not able to stop himself from telling you how good you look.

"You look delicious. Fucking yourself so desperately, moaning our names like we're here with you. You that pent up, baby? It's been three days and you're so needy you start fucking yourself how you want us to fuck you, huh?”

“But it's not the same, is it?”

Now Billy joins in as well. He already stripped out of his clothes, completely naked and palming at his erection while Stu kneels halfway under the spray of water, drenching his clothes. You mewl a negative, not trusting yourself with words. Afraid that if you pull away from Stu and open your mouth the only thing coming out would be pleas and their names.

“No. Even though our good little slut is filled to the brim by a toy and is fucking herself just as fast as we do, she still can't quite get it right. Can you, doll?”

You make a non-committal noise and place your hands on Stu's shoulders, thankful to have something to hold on to. Billy is unsatisfied with your wordless answer and grabs Stu by his hair, pulling his head back to expose his long neck, stopping you from hiding in his kisses. Stu whines long and loud before staring back at you, desperation clear in his eyes.

“Please baby, answer him.”

“Aww. Would you look at that? At least one whore here remembers his manners.”

Billy leans down to press hungry kisses onto Stu's mouth. Both of them moaning into each other's mouth, making you want even more. You mewl and whine at the display in front of you. Billy pulls away from Stu's mouth with a grin that he then turns on you.

“You better start using your words. Or he's gonna get all the attention and you can watch without touching yourself. And cumming will be completely off the table.” With that he attaches his mouth to Stu's neck, kissing up and down, sucking marks into the soft skin and biting. Which makes Stu let out the most beautiful array of whines and moans you've ever heard.

“Please,” you manage to breathe out.

“Please, what?” Billy still has his face in Stu's neck while answering, not letting his mouth detach for long. You whine and can't help yourself from slowing down your movements to gather your thoughts long enough to form a sentence.

“Please, Billy. Please fuck me. Both of you. I need you so bad, please ” Billy pulls away from Stu and grabs your jaw hard with his hand, turning your face in his direction. He gets close to you and smirks. “There she is. That's the good little whore we've been waiting to fuck for three days.” He doesn't let you answer before attaching his lips to yours and making you moan into his mouth. He lets go of your jaw and grabs your shoulders instead, shoving you back onto the dildo, hard. You moaned into his mouth as he forces you to start fucking yourself again. Distantly, you hear Stu whine as he kneels in front of you and waits for his turn to be kissed again.

Once you have a steady rhythm going again, Billy pulls away. He looks at you with a grin and you could tell he has something planned.

“Now, I asked you a question. And you didn't answer. Instead, you made out with this little attention whore next to me.” A moan from Stu. “But I want you to answer my question. I will not repeat it, and neither will Stu. You're gonna have to use your big girl brain and remember what I asked you. And you're not gonna stop fucking yourself on that dildo. If you slow down you don't get to cum. If you stop you get to watch, tied up and gagged as I fuck Stu into the mattress.” A whine from Stu. “But if you keep going and answer me correctly,” his grin widens and he leans back slightly. “Then you get exactly what you want.”

You moan, frustrated that you don't immediately remember what he asked you. While you're desperately trying to remember the question and not slow down your hips, Billy starts helping Stu get his wet clothes off. He also shuts off the water which leaves your skin cooling down rapidly, goosebumps appearing on your skin and sending shivers down your spine.

Once he has all of Stu's clothes off, he kneels behind him and starts palming his dick. Slowly but firmly taking it in hand and stroking him up and down. Stu lets his head fall back onto Billy's shoulder and moans unabashedly at how good he feels. How good Billy is making him feel. The sight makes your concentration waver. Your mind is completely empty, safe for the two beautiful men in front of you. The way their hair sticks to their foreheads, Billy looking at you with hunger in his eyes and that feral edge. Stu squeezes his eyes shut as he softly starts thrusting into Billy's hand. Usually that would have earned him a slap to the thighs and a warning, but right now all Billy wanted was to tease you.

He takes pity on you as Stu grows closer and closer, holding onto Billy and you with one hand each.

“I'll give you a little hint, darling. How does the dildo feel?” Suddenly his words sprang back into your mind.

“Even though our good little slut is filled to the brim by a toy and is fucking herself just as fast as we do, she still can't quite get it right. Can you, doll?”

You immediately scramble for an answer.

“Fuck, Billy.”

“Good start.”

You whine once more as your hips desperately try to keep up the pace Billy had set for you.

“I can't get it right,” you sob in frustration as your wetness drips down your legs. With the shower turned off you can be sure it was the juices of your pussy that are making such obscene noises and dripping slowly down your thighs.

Billy gives Stu's sensitive tip extra attention, making the tall man writhe in his place on Billy's lap. He moans as a blush spreads down his chest. “That's right doll, you can't. But why? And you better hurry because if Stu cums before you answer, you're watching.” He chuckles at your frustrated groan and speeds up his hand on Stu's cock.

“I- oh my fuckin God. I can't get it right because-” Stu moans loud and desperate, getting closer each second. “Because it's not hard enough.” Billy hums long, considering your answer. “Yes. But why?” You groan again, this time louder and with more annoyance behind it. “Careful,” Billy spoke low and with warning.

With one last whine you focus all your concentration on your words and close your eyes. “I can't get it right because you fuck me so much harder and I can't fake that. I need your hands on my hips as you pull me into every thrust and I need you to speak to me, to call me names and to tell me I'm doing good. I need you to pound into me like I'm your personal toy and I can't fake that with a dildo, please. Please fuck me like I need you to. I'm begging you Billy, please.”

You prepare yourself to hear Billy ask you for another, better answer, but it didn't come. Instead you hear Stu's sob and whine as he is denied his orgasm. No doubt having been right on the edge. When you open your eyes again, Stu looks back at you with tired, teary eyes and his mouth hanging open. Billy on the other hand looks absolutely feral. His eyes have a certain glint in it that tells you that you are in for a ride.

He reaches out to touch your cheek and strokes his thumb over your skin. “That's a good girl. And just in time too.” He softly pushes Stu to sit on the shower floor and keeps a leg behind his back to help him stay upright while he pulls on your shoulders to stop you from continuing to fuck yourself on your dildo. “Now, you have 5 minutes to help Stu get up and get both of your asses to the bedroom. I want you on the bed, legs spread and ready with Stu right between them. He gets to make you extra worked up with his mouth as a bit of revenge for his edge.” At that, Stu hums satisfied and lets out a chuckle.

“I'm gonna watch him edge you however often he sees fit, and then we're both going to fuck you. Nice and hard.” Billy grabs your jaw and pulls you in for a quick kiss before staring at you an inch away from your face. “Because I know that's what our little whore craves. Isn't it?” You nod eagerly and correct yourself with a quick “Yes sir,” before Billy can say anything.

As soon as Billy lets go of your jaw and nods his head towards the bathroom door, you're scrambling to help Stu on his feet, your own knees still wobbly.

Billy watches as the two of you slowly make your way to the bedroom with shaky legs, sees how wet your thighs are and how there's still more dripping out of your glistening pussy. He watches Stu grab your ass, squeezing the flesh beneath his finger in a way that is sure to be a promise of all the teasing that's to come. He truly can't wait to see Stu ruin you with his mouth before they fuck you until you can't remember your own name.

God, he loves the both of you so much.

---

Please don't repost or reupload this fic anywhere else. It's mine and I'd love to keep it that way.

#this was supposed to be a quick ramble #and then it got horribly away from me #so you're welcome i guess?#anyways these two have me in a chokehold today and this idea just wouldn't leave me alone #Stu Macher x Reader #Billy Loomis x Reader #Stu Macher x Billy Loomis #Stu Macher x Billy Loomis x Reader #Fem!Reader #Slasher smut #Stu Macher smut #Billy Loomis smut #brain rot #someone take my phone away pls #if this is well received i'll make a second part with Stu more in focus #because he was a little more passive in this one #i just realized no one cums in this #oops???

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