#Joe Quinn fanfic

[musedblues]

AMORE ~ FATI (part 2)

a/n: oh my oh my, thank you everyone for such wonderful feedback! if there is one thing im gonna be for the rest of the year it's a hoe for geta. so i could be coxed into making this a longer series if yall want 👀

warnings: READ PART 1 before this. minimal historical research. fantastical bs. graphic descriptions of murder. sexual situations. you get the gist! MINORS DNI

taglist: @nosamiam1 @screaming-blue-bagel @prestinalove @nxrdamp @alba8688 @mademoiselledreyfus @theawesomekungfupanda @peepeepoopoololswag

part 2 of ?

///

The day you wed was rushed. In the span of a handful of hours there were flowers and musicians flooding the halls. There were endless rows of fabric for you to pick from to dress in. There were a dozen hands shaping your garments to your figure. There were hundreds of spectators lingering outside the empire, waiting for you to reveal yourself as empress. There was Geta.

He looked to you as he often did, with undivided attention. He looked to you in a room full of people and his stare did not break or faulter. Geta's brown eyed gaze was all you could fixate on as the day unraveled around you, as ceremonies were followed through and as you were hurried along into becoming royalty. All you saw was Geta. All you saw was how he kept those brilliant dark eyes ever locked on yours. 

It would have overwhelmed you to otherwise look away, to think too vastly about the changes your life was catapulting through in such a short amount of time. That's why, when the ceremony had ended and the gathering to celebrate included your three dear friends, you did not know exactly how to answer their pleas for explanation. 

They were happy for you, they were shocked. You were giddy all the while, filling them in as you could, but unable to process the meaning and importance of your new status into words. Instead, you all laughed and spun about the room as musicians played. Julia was thrilled, beaming as the party raged on. She flitted from guest to guest, speaking highly of you loudly enough for you to hear every time.

And then there was Geta, with that illuminating stare ever fixated on you. As your party failed to cease and as the once set sun began to rise into a new day, Geta pulled you away from the gathering. Right in the middle of a conversation you were holding with the priest, Geta yanked you from the room and toward the staircase. He'd barely been able to pull you along toward his room without keeping his hands out from under your dress.

Geta had never displayed much patience when it came to bedding you, that morning being no exception. It seemed his door had barely shut before Geta had ripped your garments away and began to have his way with you. Not that you were complaining. You knew you were signing up for much more, marrying Geta. But you knew also, you were signing up for endless nights and days and weeks in his bed. On his floor. Against that beloved chaise lounge.

And that's where you stayed for a few turns of the sun, In that room, with Geta. He turned away every knock at the door with a booming demand they go away. He was quick to turn his undivided attention back to you, tracing his fingers across your torso, digging his teeth into your skin. He didn't let up. You never asked him to. But when the knocking became more and more persistent, you couldn't help but wonder when your never-ending  tryst may have to be halted.

"Shouldn't you be off working?" You wondered, raking back Geta's light toned locks. He leaned near the window, admiring a new sunrise with you. "Shouldn't I? Aren't I supposed to be adopting some kind of responsibility now?"

"I suppose." Geta seemed to understand. But a sly grin turned up the corners of his mouth as he turned his gaze from the sunrise to you. "But right now, you're only responsibility is to me. I command it." With a brow quirked and a gentle hand on your shoulder, Geta guided your descend till your knees met the floor in a bow before him. You knew exactly what he demanded, and you were glad to be of service.

///

When your time captive in Geta's room did eventually end, he proceeded to shower you with treasures. You were awarded cases full of paints and an entire room in the empire all to yourself- and a million canvas at your disposal. 

"Shouldn't I have more to do?" You worried to him, one evening. Wasn't the whole point of his mother's begging you to wed so you'd have some kind of influence in the royal goings on? Or was your shift in status all that you needed to represent for now?

"Would you care to do more?" Geta wondered, with a pout of a lip. "I promised you value and respect. I should like you to gain it however you please. But I should also like nothing more than for you to be free of responsibility. It adds up to madness. I'd like to keep you carefree." Geta reasoned with a smile, as his hands traced the curve of your chest. He'd been all to enthralled by your new title, by your belonging with him, to him. He'd be ever so captivated as you stayed as relentless as himself, eager as ever to find yourself between his knees. It was hard to want anything else, to long for more than his body tangling with yours. But the days did eventually move on.

Geta began to spend afternoons away from your side. But every day at his command, by others- you were presented with dozens of dresses in the finest colors you'd ever seen. You were fed the freshest foods. There was no time for you to wonder how to fill, Geta saw to your every waking moment of the day, with entertainment to squeal about and treasure to admire. Geta saw to your evenings in his room, under his touch. You saw to his pleasures all the while, ever more enthralled by how the well regarded and often harsh emperor melted in an instant under your lingering caresses.

///

Your days spun on in that same wonderous circle for a while, until Julia stepped in. One morning her highness surprised you by settling in for a meal with you; asking how you'd been adjusting to this new reality. You mentioned getting on nicely with the guards and the servants. You mentioned having made friends with the gardeners and feeling lucky to have be granted time to paint. You admitted to feeling a little too spoiled by Geta. 

"He wants you to be happy. We all do." Julia smiled, lifting a chalice to her lips as you smiled back her way. But she wasn't finished speaking, it seemed. "I'm glad you're fitting in as I suspected you would. But it's time for you to adjust to royal life beyond its pleasures. I'd like you to join me for a charity event this evening."

"I'll be glad to join you! I've only been wary of taking such steps since Geta insisted otherwise. He keeps saying I'll be better off with no responsibilities despite my offers to be of more service." 

Julia listened while you explained, rolling an eye at the mention of her son's guidance. With a swat of her hand, she leaned in closer to speak again. "We'll deal with him along the way, you and me. Come represent with me tonight, it'll be the perfect first job for you."

You trusted the royal's input and longed to make yourself more useful. It was easy to look forward to having a purpose for the evening, and it was a thrill to realize you'd be going out for the first time as a royal yourself. This was it. You were playing the game. You were apart of the bigger picture. 

///

The charity event was less excitable than you'd hoped, in some regards. There wasn't much to do or say there. Just hands to shake and bows to accept. But that was the rush of the evening. Just weeks ago people passed you on the street with no second glance. And you'd passed them by all the same. Funny how quickly life changed. The same class of people you were peers with weeks ago were humbling themselves before you now, beaming smiles your way, expressing pride to know someone from your side of things could dream of achieving such royal goals.

You rode home with Julia in a fog of glee, as she praised you for connecting to the public so effortlessly. For bringing a sense of humanity to the royals, for respecting her son, for the massive change you not only agreed to but seemed to enjoy. You let her fawn over you, relishing the compliments, yearning to feel as radiant as she believed you to be.

When you reached the purple carpeted entrance, and made your way up the stairs, you found Geta waiting up for you near his bed. Clothed only by his robe, he turned to find you dressed in finery, dressed like a royal. The man smiled, eyes raking up and down your figure. 

"You're a vision. You're home." Geta stated, reaching to hold your head in his hands. "It's so funny." He spoke low and gently, searching your eyes as he seemed to realize something while addressing you. "I can't imagine my plans before you were in them."

"How much have you had to drink?" You wondered with a small laugh, nervous by the softness in his lament. Geta was hardly cruel to you. But he was rarely as tender as he'd just become.

"I've just been going stir crazy waiting up for you. I hadn't even realized you'd left for the night until you didn't join me here at the usual hour. Did I hear something about charity with my mother?" Geta wondered, moving about the room now. Stretching his arms on his shuffle toward the edge of the massive carved bed.

"It was rather boring. Thought there be more action." You admitted. "I know you've wished me away from drafting battle plans and enforcing laws. But I do long to be a more active member of this family, Geta. Besides, your mother enforced our union for a reason, didn't she?"

Geta listened as you spoke, keeping a sly eye on your amble toward where he stalled against the bed. He reached a ringed hand out to rest at the curve of your hip, fingers pressing to pull you ever closer before him.

"She was right too, she saw you were made up of good will and the strength to stand by that. I'm glad she forced the idea. I'm more glad you chose this life all the while. It's admirable you wish to have more responsibilities. But that's a question to answer another day. All you need to worry about answering now, is this... tell me how can I make your evening free of all worries and wonders? How can I serve you, your highness?"

"I'd ask you to wake me from this dream, but I rather like the course it's taken." You grinned, reaching your arms around the royal's neck, struggling to hold back a burst of shocked laughter as Geta pulled you in and lifted you up all the while. In a flash he'd thrown you to his bed, moving like a jungle cat in your direction.

///

The next day you were scheduled to meet with a few senators and councilors alike. Your royal role was to be discussed, possible plans drafted. It had been a meeting you'd been looking forward to since your wedding day. 

Not even Caracalla's glare could cloud your excitement, as he passed you in the halls. his dull beady eyes rolled in your direction as he floated by in a stomp. The guard at his side, and the guard at yours, shared looks you couldn't read. And while you felt a certain fear in the wake of the more cruel emperor, a pity followed. How sad a life he lived, so shrouded in hate and rage. 

As you entered the meeting room, welcomed by a set of men smiling at your appearance, the reality of your situation seemed to settle deeper into the pit of your stomach. You recalled Caracalla's very recent glare your way. Geta's imploring you to take as little responsibility on as possible. Julia's plea for you to take on as much as you could bare. The decision was yours to make now, and you realized if you didn't achieve the perfect balance of wishes and demands, this entire empire may implode at your slightest misstep. 

Over the course of a couple of hours, you and the group of leaders discussed stances for you to take heart to. Causes to stand for and against. Talk of addressing the people of the empire and hosting parties and appearing at events took up a large portion of your time. Until finally you worked up a project to occupy your time and a planned meeting for a few days from now.

You were left feeling satisfied by the efforts the team had put into giving you purpose in your roll within this empire. But you wondered still what more you should be achieving?  

The senators left out of the back of the meeting room, while your guard lingered near the half opened main entrance. As you collected a couple of scrolls and began to head out, a muffled voice could be heard around the corner of the crack in the door. with a few steps closer and one shrug to hide better out of sight, you recognized one voice as your husbands. And the other as his brothers. You crept ever closer toward the crack in the ajar entrance to spy as the siblings squared off in the hall, four soldiers squared off between them and their sharp words.

"It's like you to hide behind the voice of a woman," Caracalla scowled, "you've always used our mother's useless input when your feckless lack of leadership reared its head. But to adopt a whorrish commoner as your wife, to give her a semblance of purpose is a laughable new low for you, Geta."

"Speak of the empress as you did just now once more and I will slaughter your guards first before you, so you can see how powerless you truly are." Geta seethed, stepping to sneer at his brother with his hand on his sword. 

You pulled back from the door, mind buzzing. Geta really did care for you, it seemed, even if you were here to benefit the emperor in some twisted way, he'd spoken quite protectively of you in your absence from his side. And that bloomed a certainty in your chest that you needed to be more sure of your place here. You should stop worrying about what action to take, and simply take it.

You spent the evening piddling around with the ideas the senators had given you. And feeling gratitude that the man you'd wed defended your honor. You really could be glad to benefit the emperor as his wife, as his supporter. But you were newly determined to act as the angel on his right shoulder; ready to battle the devil Caracalla on his left.

When Geta joined you for bed that night, you admitted to hearing the spat the siblings shared. You went on to press more, to demand your willingness to be more of an asset to the empire, to Geta. 

"Don't make me tell you no." Geta broke your on going plea with a frustrated groan. You hadn't seen that coming.

"What... what do you mean?"

"I want you here, yes. But I do not want to need you. Don't you see that? Don't you see this entire push and pull is between my brother and me? I will not have you mixed up in the middle. I know my mother thinks you and I working together against Caracalla is what needs to happen but even if it is, now isn't the time. She cannot see that because all of this is only between my brother and me." Geta was speaking as certainly as ever. His words so sharp, his voice so commanding. Yet his eyes stayed soft on yours, his hands never clenching, but reaching out to hold either side of your face.

"I want you here." He repeated again, enunciating every syllable. "But I cannot need to depend on you. Or uncertainty will seep from my leadership alone, and into the villages and this fight between Caracalla and myself will be lost. Thats all this is. Between him, and me. So please don't ask again. Not for a while. I will tell you, empress, when your time will come. Because it will. But not yet."

"I see." You mustered, not quite hurt, not quite sure of yourself, not quite without understanding. Simply shocked but his sudden outburst. Shocked by the rawness of it. Shocked by how he'd waited till now to make such a stance known, he usually spoke exactly how he felt in an instant. Why didn't he make that clear to you from the start, you wondered?

That night you sunk into bed without feeling Geta's skin against yours, without his touch. He kept on one side of the massive bed for the first time since you'd ever shared it with him. And you didn't know what to make of that.

///

A couple nights ended just as that one had, silence filling the space that was usually occupied by heavy sighs and the thud of your bodies against one another's. You did as he asked, you asked little to nothing of the man. So why was he still keeping such a distance from you? 

Sleep evaded you as answers did too. You took to wandering the halls to tire the spinning questions ever on your mind, a poor guard forced to linger close behind your restless quests.

Often nothing happened. Dark cornered dead ends spun your heels, and you ended up back in bed, you'd sleep, or you wouldn't. And then you'd end up wandering the next night, your habit threatening to wear a sorry familiar path along the rugs. 

But one night a light shone from a room you often found dark. You were curious enough to move ever closer toward it, but weary enough to go slow.

In the parlor you found Julia and her son. Caracalla was sipping from a cup of tea as a bevy of guards lined the outskirts of the room. His face grew long with a grimace at the sight of you. But Julia was alight, waving you to come and join them.

"What's this? Come to suck up royal blood like the common tick you are? Why would you allow this nobody such free reign of our home, mother?" The half reigning emperor really had a knack for dramatics. He'd never had a good word for you, but ever the creative and new verbal lashing. 

"Come now, Caracalla. She wed your brother. She was anointed. She's one of us now, official as they come." Julia stood to greet you, giving you a strong look that made you want to hold your breath. She was always planning something, it seemed. You could tell her mind spun now.  "Besides... She's already with child. Already carrying the future heir. Isn't that right? There is much to plan ahead for." 

Appalmenthaltedyour senses and all logic. You sure hadn't yet been given a reason to think you were with child, and knew she couldn't have a reason either. You couldn't decide if you wished she was right or wrong right now. Julia was looking at you as if to suggest you find a way to make it true in an instant. If you were, would that mean Caracalla would step away? Or would that ensure a plot for him to end your days? He wanted such full control. You'd been told by Geta not to dare threaten the stakes of the game between his brother and himself until further notice. But Julia, as before, had done so anyway.

"You really shouldn't have told me that, mother." Caracalla grinned wickedly, rising up from his chair. A shiver crept up your spine when you turned to find the way he was looking at you. 

"Now, son, you have an entire half of this empire to guide. Shouldn't you be off ruling like you say you wish too so badly?" Julia snapped. She was a bold and brave one to do so, in the frighteningly little leaders wake. Caracalla kept his bone chilling glare fixed on you as he saw himself out of the room, guards following. Yours had waited out in the hall. So, when the room went quiet and Julia was left lingering at your side, you couldn't help but let panic show.

"Why did you do that? What if I'm not-"

"These boys are entirely too focused on the dynamics of their fight, and not nearly worried enough about the outcome of the empire they're running." Julia explained in a sharp hush. Her usual kind eyes were wide under furrowed brows and pointing sharply at yours. 

"You and I have to take the reins of the little control we're allotted, weather we wish it or not. How much clearer do I need to make it to the lot of you that the time for games is up? Rome is tired of playing. And I will not stand by for the people to overthrow the hard work of many leaders past- because my imbecilic sons hate each other enough to divide the empire. You better get to work on the heir to this throne, because even what you and I can do together won't likely be enough."

Julia's cutting and hissed speech left you in a stupor. She huffed out of the room, your guard sauntering in confounded as you stood there processing everything that had only just happened. There was no way you were going to be able to sleep tonight.

///

The day of duties had nearly come to a close. You'd had another meeting with the senators. They let you talk until you were blue in the face about changes to policies and addresses to the public. But they only sent you off with another party to plan. You'd shared a quiet meal with Geta, glad when his eyes met yours over the course of the meal. Frustrated when little to no conversation sparked as you ate. Geta only mentioned something about following you up to the room as you finished, heading up the staircase.

In the hall before the second turn you were meant to take, a sharp whistle cut through the darkened home. There was a light on in the parlor, and an eerie silence stayed after the call. You looked to the guard at your side, and he looked to you, tilting his head to imply he'd go first to investigate. But you waved at the guy, hurrying to creep at the pace he set, something in your gut insisting you peer into the illuminated room.

Caracalla stood near the back of the parlor, a room covered in that ugly wallpaper you hated so much. In his grasp, he held Julias arms to her chest, and a knife to her throat. There were no soldiers in sight beyond yours. A horrible mistake. A terrible instance.

"Hey you, blood sucker, don't move." Caracalla taunted you, tightening his grip around his mother who shook with fright in his clutch. "Come in. If you turn around, she dies. If that guard follows you, she dies."

With a careful glance toward the man who usually followed you around, you stepped forward, holding a palm out to insist he stay back as demanded. In a slow creep you entered the room, watching the wild eyed emperor consider your every move. 

"What are you doing Caracalla?" You begged to know, voice steady and low. 

"Now you and I both know you're far too worthless to ever threaten my position, right commoner? You and I both know you're only playing a small role here but, I'm not so naive to the plans for bigger things you all have at my expense." Caracalla spat an explanation your way, wearing the most twisted version of a smile you'd ever seen.  "So, I was hoping we could all come to some sort of agreement tonight. Ah, brother just in time- no, no wait." 

Caracalla's speech ended when Geta must've loomed in the doorway behind you. You didn't dare turn to see. Geta must've waved a guard to follow or moved to draw his sword. Because Caracalla was screaming next "Do not come into this room except alone and with your palms facing me! I will kill her if you decide on any other move!" He yelled so loud spit flew from his lips, face scarlet with rage. Julia trembled in his grasp, biting back sobs you could tell. 

Geta eased beside you, his entrance into the room as calculated as yours had been. His hands up as his sibling demanded. 

"Brother, I'll give you some choices. I know you're a big fan of options, having rarely taken kindly to my demands." Caracalla went on, sickening grin ever growing. He tightened his hold on his mother, a knife so precariously nudging against her throat. Before going on, he glanced up to the guards outside the door, demanding they shut it. He had to shout once more and nod to the woman in his grasp before his wishes were granted. When you heard the thing shut with a hollow thud, your blood ran cold. 

"Now, your choices Geta. You see one of us in this room has to die. One of you." Caracalla was practically beaming, like a child thinking up a rule to a game to play. Julia screwed her eyes shut and muffled a cry. "It could be our dear mother. She's been too crafty, meddling around, making decisions no one but the likes of we emperors ought to be making."

Geta let his hands fall slowly, keeping a laser focus on his brother. 

"Or, It could be your lovely new wife and alleged unborn heir." You felt your fists tighten at your sides, your body frozen in place with a new wave of fear. You felt Geta look to you with a shock you prayed Caracalla couldn't read. You didn't know if you were with child. And you hadn't yet brought up Julia's pressing such matters to the front of your mind. Geta had other matters to deal with the past evening. And he'd been clear about you keeping your own plans to yourself. That must've meant his mothers, too, you were certain. "I'm sure your wife's a fine and easy shag. But her presence here is a threat, no matter how inane I can see she is. And if one commoner should shake up this empire, I'd hate to have to deal with your half bread ilk." 

And before Geta could rocket into rage, Caracalla reminded him that any wrong move and Julia's life would be the one taken, and then the rest of yours would follow suit. 

"Let me finish... you could obviously choose yourself, brother. With you out of my way, I won't have to worry about the fate of the women in the room. I can do with or without them whatever I please. Should you be so chivalrous as to take the fall?"

"You're worse than mad." Geta shook his head, keeping a study on his sibling. Your heart hammered as you waited for the plot of this meeting to unfurl.

"Trouble deciding, I see. Let me help." Caracalla kept his wicked grin as he decidedly and swiftly moved the knife away from Julia's throat before flinging the woman flying to the ground, against the wall at Getas feet, with a crushing thud. What a ruthless fucker. You barely had time to register that the boy had disregarded his mother in a heap, before he was lunging for you. 

Caracalla had you in a stinging grasp in the blink of an eye. His plated chest pressed against your back. His left hand held your wrists in one vice like hold, at your stomach. His right held his knife to the bend of your neck. 

"How's this view, Geta? Inspiring any choice? Time is ticking. I'd hate to make up my mind before you do."

Your brain was working overtime, spinning up a dozen ways out of this. You'd been squirming against his hold since Caracalla reached for you; and it had worked to loosen one of your wrists from his grasp juuust enough to think of breaking free. But you knew you only had one chance. And as he asked Geta to make a choice, and before anyone spoke again, you moved at the speed of light. In one swift action, you yanked your hand free and swung your elbow back hard as you could muster to crack against your captor's nose. 

Caracalla was caught off guard enough to reactively let go, and you were quick enough to spin and sweep his feet out from under him with a carefully kicked foot. This made Caracalla fall to the ground, his knife clattering at his side, his nose pouring blood, his elbows cracking against the marble floor because his hands were too busy reaching for his face to save his quick fall. Geta was fast as you, giving you a flash of a look before his hand extended to shove you away. As he reached for his brother's knife, Geta's foot stomped on Caracalla's chest to keep it down, with a crushing thud.

You clattered over to Julia's side, who was still slumped in tears on the floor. You knelt to her, reaching out an arm as you examined her finding no blood or bruising. Only tears stained her complexion as she watched her sons descend into the eye of the storm of their decades long war.

Geta had Caracalla by the throat, his fingers digging into his brother's neck as he knelt over him. "Didn't I warn you to watch your back, time and again?" Geta spat. "And didn't I tell you to never speak so lowly of my empress just the other day? I made my choice long ago, dear brother, it's always been you." With a cry that had built up over the years, with Caracalla's knife, Geta plunged the instrument into his brother's neck, twice over. Julia buried her head in your shoulder as it happened. You listened to Geta's yell, to the sound of tearing flesh, the sputter of blood. You watched as Caracalla fought his way to bleakness, legs twitching, mouth moving to speak and only spewing red. You watched Geta throw the knife to the ground and rise to stand, his hands finding the back of his head as he heaved to breathe and paced about the room. You saw, between your husband's spiral, that damn ugly wallpaper.

It wasn't long though before Geta knelt before where you did, gasping an apology. He looked to you for a moment, but he was speaking to Julia, you understood. She pulled away from you to look at him as he whispered another sorry, as she cried. He began to reach for her, but the mother shuddered away at the sight of his blood-stained hands. And then with a shake of his blonde head Geta's eyes were on yours again.

"Are you?" He wondered, still breathless, still in a daze. But despite the way the room had begun to spin for all of you, you understood what Geta was asking. 

"I-I don't know." You shook your head, quick to make it clear that it was up in the air. You could've easily been pregnant. But you hadn't had a reason to think you were. Unless Julia cast a spell on you that evening, you couldn't be certain.

Geta's expression shifted a few unreadable times, as you decidedly turned your focus back to consoling Julia. Geta apologized again, and looked about the room. He ultimately stood and opened the doors to the guards and demanded they take care of the body and the blood and wake the coroner. When they took his body Julia went with it. When Geta looked to you there were a million what if's turning into what now's between the two of you. The fight for power had ended, but was there a plan for such a time as this? Was it ever meant to end?

///

Caracalla was laid to rest by Julia's demands. She decidedly packed her things soon after, to spend a month mourning nearer the sea- and to wait out the public's inevitable celebration of her son's death. She'd always known the he was a tyrant and a bully and whatever could be worse than that. But he was also her son. So she went off. 

And all of a sudden Geta was in charge of everything. He freed Caracalla's less threatening prisoners, he addressed the people of Rome and wished to unite them. Geta was taken aback by the mix of praise and disapproval he was met with. Folks celebrated his keen and swift leadership. Folks celebrated his slaughtering his own sibling for the betterment of the empire. Folks denounced his eager leadership. Folks denounced the murder of his sibling, calling Geta as ruthless and power hungry as his brother. Suddenly there was no brother to carry the blame, no brother to take up the honor. There was only Geta.

For the next weeks, Geta was always awake. On the strolls you took past midnight; you found him drafting plans and laws and making sense of things once out of his control and understanding. 

For the next weeks, you hardly heard from the man you wed, decidedly trapping yourself in the room full of canvas and paint and quiet. You weren't even inspired to create, but your fingers moved still to make sense of this new reality in some way. You filled up many frames with rocky blue waves and darkened mountain ranges. 

For the next weeks, you'd rarely felt the emperor's touch. He'd crash into bed as you were scrambling to leave it. He'd appear in rooms you grew sick of staying in, missing your presence, you, passing by his.

Until one day, you were moved to linger about the meeting room as your husband and the senators were setting up a meeting. You sauntered about, restless as the men settled into a discussion about budgets and plagues and armies. A few of the men of the assembly began to bicker about opposing views, as Geta sat letting them. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as the pair argued on. You wondered when the last time he'd had a full night's rest was. 

As senators were arguing about Caracalla's former wishes for the empire, Geta began to insist they cease their chatter. One of them seemed to stall their argument, but another surprisingly turned to you.

"What do you make of this quandary, empress? You've always been wise to-"

From his slouched position, Geta interrupted. "My brother is dead. My wife isn't privy to all of the information needed to decide. I will decide the outcome of this debate. You must stop arguing just to oppose." His announcement was abrupt, his patience wearing thin, you could see. But maybe you could help ease the tension he held throughout himself. You'd been able to before. Maybe you could be made to understand more.

"Are you sure I can't-" You eased into wonder, locking your gaze with Geta's weary brown eye's. He listened for a moment. But then his patience had run out, eyes screwing shut, hands facing out keeping you back, keeping you away.

"No, please" He implored to you, eyes full of pleading. As his gaze grew more heavy, and began to turn toward someone else, you recognized an anger in his expression. Then you saw his focus on the guards near the door. "Take her to the hall!" 

Taken aback as you were by Geta's outburst, you knew better than to fight him, than to argue back. Not in the heat of the moment. You'd decided you'd get him to listen to you one way or another, eventually. But you knew the man well enough now to know this wasn't the time or the place. With a nod you hurried ahead of any guard and sliped out of the room, down the hall, to the gardens. 

You spent the afternoon there contemplating only simple things with the gardeners. Like what the bees thought when winter came or what flower the workers liked best. You found the dining hall alone and thanked the cooks for the meal. You savored your dinner wine and stalled your time up to the bedroom. You figured sleep would evade you yet again. You dreaded the practice of trying to rest when you just knew you wouldn't be able to.

But when you did go up, Geta was there, already sleeping. You were glad to see it, having missed the sight in a few days time. As you eased into bed at his side, you moved slow and held your breath. You'd hate to wake him. But then,

"What would you have said?" Geta's whispered wonder nearly caused you to jump, having assumed he wasn't awake. 

"What?" You gasped, nearly laughing as you settled into bed with less precision now. He didn't move at your side but he did speak up again. He asked how you would have handled the issue with the senate if he would have let you. You only thought for a moment before answering. And once you had, quiet took over the room again. You'd hoped it would be broken by Geta once more. But you watched his breathing slow and realized he'd eased into sleep at last and dared not move to change that. But you wanted to keep talking. You'd always had such meaningful banter. You wanted to ask if he was okay, because you knew he wasn't, you wanted to be so much more to Geta than he was letting you be. 

But instead, you let him sleep.

///

There was a party the next day, a game in the arena. You were pleased to walk by Geta's side, delighted to find a grin turning up the corners of his lips one of the first times you locked eyes with him that morning. But soon after a brooding took over his countenance that showed no signs of letting up.

As the pair of you left for the arena, you took on the task of sharing kind hellos and nods to the people who lined your path. You shook hands with the folks who hosted the games, and listened to their stories and shared some of your own. You shielded your eyes from the hot sun and felt glad to be out in the day, instead of roaming the halls of that dreary home. You watched the fighters in the circle duel, and turned with a frown to find Geta's unfocused gaze fixated elsewhere. Undecided on how to snap him out of such a haze in the midst of such a public event, you went on taking on the task of shaking hands and sharing smiles.

You were left alone to host the dinner that followed. Somewhere between the first pour of wine and the blessing over dinner, you realized Geta had left the room. But it was full of senators and socialites and friends you'd now come to know. And you were at the head of the table. So you lifted your glass in a toast to the rest of the year under the ever-shifting rule of the empire. And you ate. And you laughed and when the night ended you shook hands and shared smiles.

As you began to see everyone out, a pair of men lingered nearer the dining hall than the exit door. An elder with a wiry beard stalled with a furrowed brow, but a gentle grin. 

"As you know, Julia wrote to us, inviting us to tonight's events. But I see she isn't with us?" The man began to address you. He'd introduced himself over dinner, along with a handful of other faces you'd only just met that night. 

"The royal mother is still seaside. I'm sure she'll be sad to have missed your appearance here." 

"Well, your highness, that's the thing. Julia wrote to us... about you. You see, I'm a doctor. She insisted we make your acquaintance and check-" 

"Oh." You offered this poor old fellow a clenched smile as you realized where this was going, sparing the guy the further awkward explanation. Of course the woman sent them here without telling you first. She'd decided to curse pregnancy upon you without asking first. And now, because you were superstitious of the way this whole possibility had been continuously pushed, you told the doctor to stay. 

It wouldn't hurt to check, right?

///

Your stomp up the stairs was determined. You'd just been reminded that your fate, in your hands or not, was not just your own. Born to die, maybe. Living to lead some kind of life with Geta? Sure. But the second half of that 'some kind' was yours. And you were tired of waiting for your turn. You marched up the stairs, with an entire new plan in mind.

Maybe it had been enough, to be married, to host parties. Maybe that was okay. Maybe Geta was ever changed after the murder of his brother. And maybe you couldn't help the man out of his stupor from that. But you weren't going to sit around and wait for Geta to catch up with the changing paces of the empire. You were going to remind him that you were dictated to stay here because there was more to you than a kind smile and a commanding presence.  As you considered the entire life you'd led that ended up in your arrival here, and the life you'd spun into so far this season, you headed to your room. 

But in there, Geta wasn't sleeping. He was sat in that tiny chair at that tiny table in the middle of the room, with his elbows on his knees and his head hung low. In his loose clutch was a nearly empty bottle of wine. 

You eased into the room, shutting the door with care. The flicker of the lanterns in the corner guided your step into the middle of the room, where you stalled before Geta's miserable slouch. Before you could think of how to address the man, he was lifting his head to peer up to you. Geta seemed as if he could cry, the weight of his new reality evident all over his face.

"I was wrong." He whispered. You cast the man a puzzled glare as you settled into your posture before him. Decidedly, you spoke in return.

"I hope you're not regretting what happened to your brother. Unfortunate as it may be to lose family, he had it coming, don't forget-"

"No, I was wrong when I said I didn't want to need you." Geta implored, gazing up at you with big glossy, anger filled eyes that softened as your brow furrowed.

"I do need you. I want you here with me. And I need you here for me. I was wrong." Geta's admission seemed to hiss its way out of the very pits of himself. And as he finished speaking, the emperor slid from the chair to fall to your feet, head pressing against your knees, wine bottle clattering to the floor.

As this powerful man reduced himself to a puddle before you, you felt the rise of a certain power within yourself. You'd come up here with every intention of swinging for the fences. But Geta had submitted himself at your feet by his own will. 

"You need me after all, your highness?" You breathed, carding your fingers through the emperor's golden locks as he stayed in his slump before you. Geta muffled a yes, it sounded as if he were truly near tears now. It could've broken your heart, the cracks in his voice, if you weren't surging with adrenaline now.

"Good. I'm glad you've come to your senses. Now let me tell you what I need." You started, curling your fingers to latch withing Geta's hair, pulling his head back for his eye's to find yours. "I'm done parading around as a glorified party planner. I'm acting as more than a wanton body for your bed, now. You promised me value and respect. And I hope I shouldn't have to remind you of that promise ever again. I hope my demands to be heard shall no longer be put on pause. I refuse to raise your child from the side lines, Geta." You announced, voice soft but commanding as you could make it. 

His already drunken and dewy-eyed expression morphed into something wider and more stupefied. The emperor let his head turn to one side for a beat, and then the other, as if to shake his head. As if to ask if you meant it. 

You let your head move up then down, to assure it was true. Maybe Julia did curse you that night. But a child was never out of the question by how many nights you spent with your legs wrapped behind Geta's back. Things sure happened fast in this world, deaths and births and promises and problems were ever spun to life like passing storms in the royal court. But time always slowed in this room, for better or worse. Luckily tonight, Geta began to smile.

"I shall see to it all, I already promised. I promised you." Geta clawed his way up your figure. His body molding against yours with desperation and desire ever present. His lips pressed against yours, his fingers sunk into the skin of your cheeks. His skin was warm to the touch, as you peeled away the layers that had been covering it. You demanded that the man tell you what he needed then and there, desperate to hear such sultry pleas fall from his lips.

You saw to his wish to plow you against the mattress that's middle had been missing your union. You answered his call for your fingers to yank at his hair. He begged you for more. He swore there was nothing he wouldn't do at your demand. If you'd been dreaming, you never wanted to wake up. Especially if the next day meant you'd be finally allowed to make decisions that affected an entire empire. And now too, the heir to it's throne.

[tippenstoepens]

Prettiest Girl in the Room

Anyone would kill to play Joseph Quinn's wife on television. Anyone except you.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

Wordcount: 1.8k

Clubs were not your thing. But you were wrapping the first season of the show that gave you your first lead role on everyone’s favorite streaming service alongside 2022’s it-guy - Joseph Quinn. So you understood why this might be a night out that you couldn’t pass on. Even if it did end in disaster, it was a memory begging to be made.

The main cast had agreed on and planned this night out for the past three weeks in the group chat. The destination was a popular speakeasy in New York, the kind you needed a password for and entered through an inconspicuous door hidden behind a dumpster. 

There you sat at the table, forcing the coolest attitude you could conjure sitting across from your TV husband, Joe. In the six months you spent as his TV wife, you couldn’t imagine why everyone was so head over heels for this guy. Sure, he’s handsome and good with fans, but is that all it took? Was the bar truly that low? Your heart cried for women everywhere. 

He could also be kind of cocky and a bit of a smartass. He would make passive aggressive jokes at your expense. Maybe it was some kind of culture thing you weren’t picking up. He was British after all. He kept calling you “Mrs. Henderson” instead of your own, real name after you had asked him multiple times to stop calling you by your character’s married name when you weren’t filming. Then he just began to tease you about it.

“Good morning, Mrs. Henderson.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Henderson.”

“Good to see you, Mrs. Henderson.”

Holly Vanguard made sure to get the seat to Joe’s right, laughing too loudly at all of his dry humor. She even laughed when he wasn’t making jokes. Maybe she was just stuck in character. She played Joe’s secretary on the show. “We’re both British,” she took care to remind you often. “We get each other.” Why Holly excluded your very British TV father from this covenant, you’ll never know. David sat to your left.

Every so often he would reach over and squeeze your hand in reassurance. When you looked over to him, he’d be smiling softly with encouragement in his eyes. You had developed a negative reputation throughout filming the season because you preferred not to agitate your social anxiety by leaving your trailer. David was the only one you had confided in about it after a particularly stressful day on set. You’d heard whispers of your “stuck up attitude” after passing on a previous night out with the cast (which you suspected was started by Holly). You were sure your bickering with Joe when the cameras weren’t rolling hadn’t helped.

This was your first real gig and the circus of it all drove you crazy. There were a lot of politics involved in being part of a cast of public figures. Apparently, people weren’t supposed to disagree with anyone who had more public recognition than you did - especially if that one was GQ’s Man of the Year. You suspected Joe liked your attitude at least a little bit, but you couldn’t be sure.

“Why don’t we play Spin the Bottle?” Holly suggested to the table, giving Joe eyes.

Groans of opposition came from the older cast members and they excused themselves to the dancefloor after everyone had a laugh. And then there were five. You silently wept at the loss of your emotional support TV father.

“In the middle of a pandemic? No,” Jackson shut it down and made a different proposal. “Let’s play a good old-fashioned game of Truth or Dare. But you don’t get to choose either or - the person asking chooses for you. If you refuse a dare or question, you’ve gotta take a shot of tequila.”

“Every 20 minutes, I’ll refuse a question,” Joe declared and slapped a palm onto the table. His dirty martini shook next to the point of impact. 

The group made rounds around the table and when it came to you, you asked Jackson what it was like to be the most fashionable person in the room at all times. 

“Oh my god, finally someone acknowledges my plight. It’s exhausting. I spend all this time planning outfits and looking amazing, but do I get invited to the Met Gala? No. I don’t even get to look at myself all day, everyone else gets to see my color coordination and I have to look at everyone else’s sweatpants and Wallabees. No offense, Joseph,” Jackson said with no remorse.

“That’s fair,” Joe shrugged and smirked.

In the few rounds you all had, you noticed Joe always dared people to do absurd things like pose with the statues in the back of the club and “stay in character” for a full five minutes or take the fish skeleton off of the plate of the table next to them and cuddle it for a full round.

You thought it was sweet that he only came up with dares that wouldn’t inconvenience the staff and other club go-ers or violate anyone’s boundaries while still managing to be funny. He could easily be obnoxious if he wanted to. He’s not so bad, you guessed.

When his fourth turn came around, he broke the pattern. Joe said your name and you prepared to fully commit to whatever zany bit he’d come up with this time, but he said:

“Truth: why don’t you come out with us more often?”

“O-oh,” you blubbered, caught off guard. “I just… I’m not good with crowds.”

“Oh, come on. I want a real answer.”

“That is my real answer. I’d just make a fool of myself. I’m not…”

“You seem to be doing just fine so far.”

“Well, that’s because David-” You turned to look for him and found him attempting a very bad vogue in a small group of younger people. They cheered and let all sorts of onomatopoeia in encouragement. “...was helping.”

“Alright, alright, but if you don’t come out with us next time, I’ll be wounded.” Joe pressed both hands to his pectoral over his heart.

“Next!” Jackson jeered.

“Oh! Would you look at that, it’s my turn!” Holly squealed. You didn’t have the highest opinion of Holly, but the feminist in you refused to dislike her until she committed an actual crime like vehicular manslaughter. Being annoying wasn’t a serious enough offense.

Holly dramatically adjusted herself in her seat to face Joe.

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room,” Holly slurred and puckered her glossy lips, tilting forward a bit to display her cleavage. Your stomach dropped. Everyone at the table exchanged glances, wondering if Joe was drunk enough to entertain it.

Joe’s eyelids fluttered and his head tilted as he processed what had been said. Had she really just done that? It was only after his eyes flicked over to you that you became aware of the jealousy on your face. Your recovery was quick, but not quick enough. Hopefully he took it as concern or judgement. He knit his brow and chuckled. Shit.

“You got me,” he surrendered. He grabbed a tequila shot from the tray and chucked the liquor down his throat. He didn’t even make a face. It was kind of sexy. No! It wasn’t. It was most definitely not sexy.

Holly exhaggerated a pout to play off the embarrassment. 

The rest of the night went smoothly. The game had got you loosened up enough to make your way to the dancefloor. Everyone whooped and hollered when you did. 

You couldn’t decide if it was just the liquid courage or if you were actually dancing very well. Your movements felt so fluid and you hit every beat - an uphill battle when you were sober. Judging by everyone’s surprise and the circle that formed around you in the middle of the dancefloor, you’d say your theory was accurate. Who knew the shyest cast member could be such a party animal?

After a verse of the 90s R&B song that was playing, you pointed to the first co-worker you laid eyes on and joined the circle as they took your place. 

…

The group stumbled through the hallways of the hotel at four in the morning, trying to keep the volume at a minimum and failing miserably. Your ears must’ve still been ringing from the club. Everyone was giggling and “SHHHH”-ing and repeating their room number.

“25D… 25, 25, 25…” Alex repeated.

“Shhhhh! We’re still in the under 20s! That’s 12D!” Jackson shouted.

“Both of you shut the fuck up! People are trying to sleep!” David whisper-shouted.

Joe shushed all three of them. 

When all the oversized toddlers were dropped off at their respective rooms, there was only yourself and Joe left. You’d wished you had booked a room further away just to talk to Joe a little longer. He was giggly and flushed from the drinks and you had never seen him so… cute. 

Before you knew it, you had arrived at your hotel room door. 

“Have you got your key?”

“Yeah,” you reached into your bag and retrieved the plastic card, holding it in your hands for a bit too long before looking up at Joe. You didn’t want the night to end. His eyes were glossy and full of - dare you say it - admiration.

“Well, I guess-“ “I think you’re-“

“Oh, sorry.” 

“No, no,” you said. “I, um…”

There was another long pause of sustained eye contact. It should have felt awkward or uncomfortable, but it didn’t. A smile spread across his face. You huffed a smaller laugh and found your own lips spreading. 

“Good night,” he said softly.

“Good night,” you barely whispered.

Joe walked down the hall as you swiped your key and turned the handle.

“Oh,” He muttered and snapped his fingers once.

“I’ve almost forgotten,” Joe called. He jogged back to your door and took your head into his hands. “I owe you.”

He pressed a gentle kiss into your lips. Then another. And another. Before you knew it, you were both nibbling on each others lips and swirling tongues into the other’s mouth. Which should have been raunchy and drunken and a huge mistake, but it didn’t feel like any of those things. He was so gentle and soft with you in a way that no other man had been before. Before you knew it, you were standing there: eyes blissfully closed and lips still slightly parted as Joe floated away from you.

“Good night, Mrs. Henderson,” he purred in that deep, chocolatey voice of his and walked back down the hall, disappearing into the elevator.

You stood there in front of your door for a good thirty seconds before coming back down from your high and slipping into your hotel room, dreaming of the next kiss Joe had in store for Mrs. Henderson. 

[archivequinn]

hello everyone, I have an emperor geta (nsfw) story but I am afraid that if I share it no one will read it... is anyone interested?😬

[daleyeahson]

choose your character 🎮

[usetheeauthor]

Kinktober Day 5: Uniform

Ralph Penbury (Timewasters) x Time Traveler!Reader

Summary: Ralph’s going to join the French Foreign Legion but you just won’t let him go.

Warnings: 18+ smut, uniform kink, blowjob through pants, boot riding, cumming in pants, sub!ralph

“Love, please…I must leave at once.” Ralph whimpers. Yet despite his protests, he allows you access to his neck so you can properly pepper the soft skin with wet open-mouth kisses.

He’s leaving you today. For how long? Could be months or even years but you tried putting on a brave face about his impending departure. After all, it is for the best if you plan on going back home. Yet the time has finally arrived and you’re an absolute wreck.

It’s so strange to see how attached you grew to him considering how long it took for you to reciprocate your feelings for him. You had always found him to be quite the strange fellow. Very intense with his emotions, too. He instantly fell for you the moment he laid eyes on you but you were put off by his forwardness. Hell, he proposed to you the very next day you met!

All you cared for back then was to get back to your timeline so his pursuit of you seemed futile. His learning of your revulsion made him do all he could to prove himself as a worthy man for you. He wrote you songs of his love, tried sweeping you off your feet any chance he got (literally), and he’d been trying to save you in various situations so that you knew him as your protector…even if those situations were as small as throwing his jacket over a shallow puddle of water for you to walk over.

Slowly you warmed to him, simply because of the effort he’d gone through just to make you love him. But he could tell it wasn’t enough. So, his next bet was to join a greater cause wanting to build from those experiences and better himself. And that’s when you learned that he’d enlisted in the French Foreign Legion.

You thought you’d handle it just fine but now two weeks later and you’ve cracked under your cool facade the moment you see him in that dorky tan uniform. There’s a range of emotions that consume you: sadness, lust, yearning…it’s all so overwhelming. It feels too real.

You look up at him with doe eyes, cheeks stained with tears. “Don’t go,” You kiss him hotly, your tongue caressing his own. Once you part, a line of saliva connects your lips. Your hands roam down his body, desperately clawing him through his uniform. “Stay with me.”

He mewls when your hand cups him through rough material of his pants. “I cannot. It wounds me deeply to go but I must—“

You smash your lips against his hard enough for the hat on his head to land on the ground. You walk him backwards into his bed until you both fall against the mattress. You’re feral, hands and mouth all over him and he melts with bliss.

Ralph didn’t think the uniform would have this much of an effect on you. When he was advised by a confidant that women love a man in uniform, he took the concept and ran with it, immediately signing away his life for military service. The way you’re responding to it went far beyond his expectations. He isn’t even expected to be leaving until next week in actuality, only wearing the uniform to admire himself in the mirror when he caught you in the corner of the room with lust-filled yet wet eyes. But he’ll just save that tidbit of news for another time.

Because you finally understand. You’re just as pathetically needy as he’s always been for you. Although, you’re a lot more lewd in your approach.

You snake down his body until you’re on your knees at the edge of his bed, your face nudged between his legs. His eyes bug out of his head when you begin to suck on the tip of his cock through his pants. You were on the exact right spot. Ralph can feel the suction’s pressure around the crown with some of your saliva soaking through the thick material.

“Oh, my…” He gasps, eyes rolling in the back of his head.

Then to show off some more, you begin to knead his balls through the pants with precision, earning another surprise hitch in his breath. You lick a long stripe up his hardened base, enjoying the feeling of the mild abrasiveness of the fabric against your tongue. Even if you can’t get a proper taste him; the warm, heavy feeling of his cock against your tongue makes you moan out loud.

You soon find yourself grinding down on his combat boots as you latch your lips around the sensitive mushroom head again. His head falls back against the mattress but you sink your nails into his inner thigh, nails sharp enough to penetrate the tough cotton.

He recognizes correctly that it’s a warning to him that he mustn’t remove his eyes from you. So with fluttering eyes and those pink pouty lips, he watches you while he struggles to keep his eyes from rolling and his moans from pitching in tone. It shouldn’t feel this good but because it’s you, it’s heavenly.

“Going to cum, my love.” He rasps, large hand resting on top of your head for a moment as if he’s petting you.

This makes you ride his boot harder, making the steel-toed part of his shoe press directly against your clothed sensitive little nub. You cry out at the delicious feeling. You’re going to cum soon, too.

But he doesn’t get to cum until he tells you he’ll stay. Until you could somehow convince him to follow you back to your life instead.

“Tell me you’ll never leave me.” You demand while rubbing your cheek against him like a cat in heat.

“I’ll never leave you.” He sighs.

“Tell me you’ll follow me anywhere and everywhere I tell you.” You continue to rub your face over the crotch of his pants, looking at him with such tender and wide eyes that look so innocent despite the absolute filthiest thoughts they held in them.

“I’ll follow you. Anywhere, Everywhere you tell me. Please just let me cum,” He’s practically sobbing by this point. “I’ll be so good for you.”

“Cum for your love.” You say, giving him one heavy lick and, in the next second, he’s spurting inside his pants. The twitching within the confines of his pants is erratic. You sneak your hands beneath his shirt, soothing a hand over his belly as he whines and squirms beneath you.

Your high peaks at the sight of him, gushing your honeyed essence on the tip of his boot. You don’t stop rocking against him, wanting to feel his toes flexing within the shoe.

Aftershocks shoot through the both of you as you come down from your high. You continue to kiss and worship the leg you straddled until you rise up on shaky legs and go to lay beside him in bed.

He turns to look at you with a smile, still panting. “Does this mean you’ll marry me?”

[stardancerluv]

What the Emperor Wants

Part 6

Summary: A new dynamic between and the reader who belongs to him. Things take place the dark of the night.

Notes/Warning: 18+, pinv consensual intercourse (be safe!), virginity lost, blood & a dagger is mentioned, ownership, womanhood is mentioned, worship and belief of old gods, mentions of someone that pays Geta in the middle of the night (no spoiler, please read!)

Strigil: to clean off the oils or soaps off a body. Sperlonga: where Julius Ceaser first emperor of Rome was born, Borghi più belli d'Italia: means the most beautiful village in Italy.

❤️s, reblogs, comments, feedback are all welcome! Thank you for reading. 💐

You felt as his eyes drifted over you.

"I am very proud of you today."

Licking his bottom lip, he bit it. He looked as of

he was thinking of what else needed to be said.

"You did not make me regret my decision."

"I am glad."

A smile curled his lips.

"Come here."

Your heart beat harder as drew closer.

"I wish to relax for the rest of the night."

He pointed to a bottle of oil.

"Rub that into my back. While you do so, using

your words like an artist, tell me where your

people come from."

"If that is what you wish."

"It is." He took a seat on a stone bench near you.”

"Rub that into my back. While you do so, using your words like an artist, tell me where your people come from."

"If that is what you wish."

"It is." He took a seat on a stone bench near you. Nearing the bottle you saw a very elegant strigil. When you picked it up, it scrapped against the marble table

"It's very sharp.'

"It is. So be careful, I do not wish to shed my blood tonight."

You nodded.

"If we are to shed any blood, it will be your womanhood."

"My womanhood." You echoed.

You had heard of it being possible but hearing it again made your stomach churn.

He turned more towards you from where he sat and looked at you. His hair cascaded over his brow like a sunset.

"Yes, it is the sacrifice that is made to the great gods of the heavens and to your emperor?”

"Yes, Geta. I understand:

"You better. I do not feel you are a hysterical girl.”

“I’ve never been known to be one.”

“Good.”

He sat once again with his back to it.

You placed the strigil down. You rubbed your hands together, warming them. You mother had always taught you it is better to touch with warmth then coolness.

Pulling the stopper you brought the bottle of the fine oil to your nose. Your eyes, grew.

“Sire?”

He didn’t move. “What did I say about that?”

“Geta,” You swallowed. “I am sorry.”

“It’s fine. It shows how well you have been trained.”

Even though you could not see it; you were convinced one of his cooler smiles curled his lips at that remark.

“Yes.”

“What is it? Why the pause?”

“The oil. It is the same used on me earlier.”

“Yes, yes it is.”

“But, but…” You voice trailed off as the words failed to be expressed.

“You belong to me. I will share the best with you when I choose it to be.”

“Oh?” A flutter went through you. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, don’t make me wait any further.”

“Yes, yes of course.”

You placed the bottle down, then once again rubbed your hands. A good spirit filled you at the thought. You would keep in a good temperament whenever you could.

Picking up the bottle, you poured some of the oil on your hands first, instead of just dribbling some on his back first. If had always felt more comforting when done this. You hoped he would feel the same way.

In the brief moment before your hands felt his shoulders, you were certain they tingled. Perhaps it was the goddess Venus blessing you tonight. You murmured a soft prayer to her and then laid your hands upon him.

Your heart felt like it would erupt from you. It was beating very hard.

Your hands drifted, rubbed and gently squeezed where it felt needed. His posture stopped being rigid after some time. But he didn’t utter a word, you took it as a sign he was enjoying himself.

Pausing for a breath, you poured some more oil onto your palm.

“Oh, yes. You have grown to silent.”

He looked at you over his shoulder. His profile sharper than the coins that attempted to bear his likeness

“You are to still tell me of where your family comes from.”

“Yes.”

You placed the bottle down once again.

You began to move your hands down lower on his strong back. A strong warmth burned him. It was the strength of the gods, you were certain of it.

“My family lived on the brink of forever. Where the water laps against golden sands are a brilliant and turquoise.”

“Does it go by the name Sperlonga?”

“Yes, Geta I was told that is its name.”

“You come from a mighty land. The great Tiberius came from that ground.”

“Our first Emperor, Geta?” You gad heard whispering among the elders.

“Yes, yes he was.” He paused. “Now, I know quite more about you.”

“Geta, I am confused.”

A chuckle came from him and he turned away but then moved more so he could face you.

“Borghi più belli d'Italia.”

He said simply, his tongue becoming elegant. He spoke of the sentiment you heard frequently of your village.

“And you, are also quite lovely. Your roots are from there. Though I would dare say being in Rome and working so closely to your emperor, only helped with your beauty. The goddesses and gods are kind to you.”

You trembled, you didn’t know what to say. You bowed your head.

“Thank you Geta.”

He nodded, before reaching for and grabbing the strigil.

“Time for you to finish.”

“Yes.” Though you placed it down.

You went to the plant with its large leaves and knowing which ones were dying, their edges browning, you pinched them off at the stem and brought them over and placed them under foot.

“For an easier clean.”

He nodded.

You took a breath, steadied your hand and soon scrapped away the layer of oil. His skin had a new radiance. His features, the strength underneath shone through. Once done you, wiped the strigil and placed it on the table and put the stopper back into the bottle.

He rolled his shoulder. He made a soft, pleasant sound and soon stood. Once again he was close and you were reminded of how he could tower over you. A smile was on his lips.

He brought your chin up. “You didn’t even prick the skin.”

“You warned me, so I kept my breath and was careful yet thorough.”

“Good for that.” His thumb caressed your jaw. “Remove your garments and go and lay in the bed.” His eyes narrowed. “On your back.”

You nodded. And he let you go.

Your heart had beat hard before, now more. Besides the bed is where you loosened the knots and undid the clasp that bore his profile. Not know where to go exactly, you went to its center.

He came over, he did the knot of his belt. Soon like falling leaves, his braccae fell to the ground, not far from where your garments laid.

He crawled over to you. Your stomach fluttered. Truly, the gods had been kind to him. He was trim and sharp like the staues artists have erected in his honor.

He came to rest beside you. “I will touch you now.”

“Yes Geta.”

Soft sounds came from you as his finger tips grazed from your cheek, to your throat to your chest. He cupped one of your breasts.

“Oh, it feels good. I am sure one day they would be good for a babe to suckle at.”

“I hope so.” Your voice shook. His touch was light, barely felt it. But made you very pleased. Soft sounds came from you.

A smile curled his lips.

His hand drifted over to where your heart was. You don’t know why but you shifted a breath.

His dark eyes found yours.

“My heart, is thudding hard.” It was all you could say, you were terribly breathless. Could barely hold onto one.

“That is how it is. You have not departed yet, from this world for the underworld blossom.”

“Oh?”

He nodded.

Moving back, his hand then splayed on your chest. He smiled. “See I felt it move faster. It is responding to me.”

“I believe so.”

His hand then traveled along the curve and softness of tour stomach.

“Your body pleasing me greatly.”

You nodded. “I am glad.”

You gasped, your eyes grew when you found his hand cupping you.

“This feels good.” He gave you a squeeze. “Soft, warm. Ready, to welcome me?”

“Yes.”

“Open your legs for me, bid me entrance.”

He climbed over you, the sight made tingles come from the very center. The sensations, were welcome but they did spread through you. In your breathless state, you glanced away from his magnificence.

“Am I so ill to the eye. Should I have warmed you with wine like my brother does with the dancers, he randomly beds?”

His words were sharp, they stung.

You quickly looked back. “No, Geta. It is just you are truly like a god before. And I can barely catch my breath. I do know what you shall want me to do.”

An edge remain but his words were softer.

“Let your body, let your heart lead. They will know what to do.”

“As you wish.”

Soon, with his free hand you felt as he opened you further so he could properly settle between your legs. The tingles, you had felt earlier caused a needy ache in you. Perhaps, it was that part of you that knew what to do while being guided by the fates.

You felt as he brushed against you, a soft sound escaped your lips, a mixture of pleasure and surprise. It had felt good. You glanced down. His arousal was quite big, it matched the rest of his beauty.

“Your body as responded to me. Just like the ground is thirsty for the water from the rains, your body is ready.”

“Yes. But am I not too small. I do not want to cause any displeasure in you.”

You were taken aback. You had not expected to be more ready then you were. Perhaps it was from his gentle words and touch. You tried to understand how you were feeling empty, feeling an unexplainable need for him. But you wanted this and would not stop him.

“A sword sheaths itself, that sheath must must be barely big enough to hold the sword it is safe. You are perfect, for me. Though, I should remind you there will be pain. It is the sacrifice that must be made. From this night forth, you will forever be mine along with your woman hood.”

You nodded. You felt there was no great sacrifice then to one’s emperor who had already been far kinder then you could have ever expected.

At first, there was quite a bit of pressure and it was not long before the slice of pain ripped through you. You gasped and called out, arching against him. You clawed at the soft fabrics under the two of you.

He still and waited till your body called and it did, but sweat broke out as if you were out in the sun. It must be from warmth that came from him. The pain soon ebbed.

“Shall I continue?” That was when you realized he had truly stilled but was still deep within you.

“Please.” Something you were unfamiliar began to build within you and you wanted more of it.

Soon, Geta easily began moving easily in and out of you. His breathing shortened and sounds, came from him you had never heard before.

There were sounds you had heard them in the neighboring sleeping quarters where you lived before he brought you to the domus.

Soon, his fingertips grazed between the two of you. A sharp pleasure ripped through you.

“Your bud is as delicate as the flowers you love.” His voice was raspy. You were lost in your sensation to barely realize what he said. All you knew was he spoke.

It cleared your thoughts all you could do was make your own incoherent sounds you grasped onto him. You felt like you could shatter yet you entire body tightened.

“Oh Geta.” You whimpered under him. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t, my blossom.” His voice was strained.

A moan was ripped from you as his fingers grazed once again between the two of you.

You bucked and felt as everything with your erupted, it felt absolutely amazing. Once you could see beyond the bursts of stars in your eyes you were melting under Geta.

He arched against you a final time and soon, uttered his own very deep moan. Be he came to rest his forehead against your shoulder. His breath was hot he panted before he moved and was laying on his back beside you.

You honestly do not know what came over you, perhaps it was the goddess Venus herself that truly liked the union of you and Geta. But in glow of the pleasure that had filled you; turning you looked at Geta.

His lashed laid softly on his cheeks as he breathing began to steady.

“Will be do this again?”

He smiled, though his eyes didn’t open. “Yes. Though that was enough for one night. Like wine, I do not want to grow terribly addicted to you. Not good for an emperor or you.”

“Oh.” His words fell over you like a shadow. You could tell how it made you feel but the glow began to shrink in its size.

His finally opened and he looked at you. “Also, so that words don’t fly faster then then already do at the senate or the forum, you must go back to your chambers but I will see you for our morning meal.”

“Yes.”

You knew enough to get up then and easily wrapped the elegant fabrics around you. He rolled away as you glanced over. It made a pang go through you.

*******

Once in your room, you paused after closing the door. You felt suddenly very hollow, as if his ownership finally was realized. You hugged yourself tightly.

After sometime, not knowing truly how long you stood and were going to prepare for sleep which is beckoning. When you realized, the golden clasp was not in your possession. His words echoed in your mind, they had given you a chill. Yet, you didn’t want yourself to be the cause of those loose words. So carefully you crept once more past his sleeping guards, something you would tell him about over perhaps some more full, very crisp and pleasant grapes.

You opened the heavy door and in the few candles that remained flickering in his chambers, you made your way to the alcove where his bed was.

A scream came from you that you had never known to be in your possession. It came from somewhere deep inside of you. There beside his bed was a man holding a very large dagger, he looked like he was prepared to strike.

Geta awoke, the man brought down the dagger. Moving just so it only managed to slice at his upper arm instead of his heart; where he had appeared to be aiming for. The sight of crimson was stark to the rest of the night. Everything became fuzzy, your knees began to buckle before all became black.

@honey-eyed-munson @amethyst-serenade @screaming-blue-bagel @missonlypost @kitkat80 @blondie324 @alyisdead @hellomadamebutterfly @heartsforjosephquinn

[hopelesswrites]

Book Club 2

Part 1

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

-Your book club bestie persistently tries to set you up with her son, at the expense of your new white top.

Again reiterating: Joes mum is a fictional character here, she's the essence of every suburban white woman I know.

-

Your headache never went away and followed you into the next day. Only, today’s matters were worse than a headache, you had dinner with Mary and Joe.

Now only down the street from Mary’s house your stomach was doing flips in anticipation for the night. You hoped Mary wouldn’t make it awkward, considering she had been trying to plan this for as long as you’ve known her.

At the door you felt as small as an ant, why was it so big and daunting? Who has such a large door?

In truth it was obviously a normal door, but your mind started skewing your perception of rationality.

The doorbell? Far, far too loud.

The footsteps on the other side? Definitely too fast, why was Mary running? 

The door opened but it wasn’t Mary. “You made it! Come in, Mums just finishing off the gravy” Joes cheery voice boomed through your ears. Joe was the definition of inviting. His soft brown hair was freshly washed, you could tell by the fluffiness of his curls. As you panned down the man you took in his clothes. He had on a cream cotton button up that looked like a crumpled up piece of blank paper, black jeans and the most god-awful loafers you think you had ever laid your eyes on. You wondered if you had composed your face well enough or if your look of disgust was showing. 

“I’m sorry, am I late?” You asked, toeing off your shoes at the door and following him through to the kitchen. As suspected it was just the three of you, and it was obviously starting to look like a big setup. You curiously considered Mary giving Joe a debrief before you got here. Trivial facts about you, talking points, how to act, how to speak. You figured Joe would probably be good at following directions like that, put on a persona Mary deemed fit for you. 

“My Love!” Mary smiled wide at you, “just in time, why don’t you follow Joe into the dining room and help set the table, I’m almost done”. 

And so, the schemes begin. 

The round table was on the smaller side, tucked into the space given for a dining setting. You ran through the pros and cons of this: the table was set that you weren’t sitting across from Joe, but you were close enough next to him where feet kept bumping into each other. 

You realised Mary had done this so she could look at you both, observe your interactions, and once you were all seated and conversation (interrogation) began flowing, her eagle eyes were on you. 

“Joe tells me you bumped into each other last night” Mary says nonchalantly.

“Yeah, we did” was all you could bring yourself to say.

“What a funny coincidence” The woman replied, a pleased smile on her face.

“I was just telling Joe the other night how I was starting to give up on the two of you meeting, always seem to be busy at the same time”.

Give up my ass, you thought.

The rest of dinner continued on much the same, Mary bringing up things about you to Joe and vice versa. By the end of the meal, you felt you were well acquainted with the man.

After clearing the table and fighting and losing for dish washing duty you were sat back at the table with Joe while you both waited for Mary to finish prepping dessert. To “talk amongst yourselves” she called it.

Awkwardly you drew shapes in the condensation of your water glass, avoiding making any sudden movement to prompt Joe into conversation.

“She thinks we’re stupid huh” Joe spoke quietly, trying not to alert the woman on the other side of the wall, who most probably was waiting to hear any kind of noise from the room.

“Shameless woman doesn’t care what we know” you responded, earning a chuckle from Joe.

“I wouldn’t have minded getting to know you without my mother’s interference”

“Bit late for that now” you scoffed back.

“I don’t think so”

That got your attention, finger halting at the rim of your class.

“Grab a drink on the way home?” Joes’ eyes bore into you, he was starting to look like his mother, eagerly waiting a response.

Did you even want to get to know Joe? Mary’s son! The woman had plotted a whole meet cute for you both, it all felt a bit silly now. Did you even like Joe? He was definitely attractive, smelled nice as well, but what did you know about him that would entice you in any other situation.

Tall – check

Gentleman – check

Stable job – check

Dressed well – half check, those shoes were criminal.

Good relationship with his mother – dependent really, you didn’t see any red flag with Joe and his mum, just a guy with an overly enthusiastic loving mother.

He honestly passed your first level of inspection, if he was any other guy on a dating app you’d go for the drink. But you couldn’t help feeling like it was so wrong. Every possible bad scenario ran through your head, what if he didn’t end up liking the real you once he got to know you, or what if he was only being polite and you ended up looking too eager. Your biggest worry though, what if you hurt him, what if your terrible luck with dating followed through with Joe, what if you strung him along and ended up breaking his heart, how would you face Mary then? It felt like keeping work life and personal life separate, you couldn’t bring your mess into Mary’s life.

“Another time? Ive got to be up early tomorrow” you offered with a kind smile that made you feel sick. This was considered stringing along wasn’t it.

Before you could think about it any more Mary came into the room, two hot bowls of apple crumble in hand and the night continued as it began.

-

Life continued after you left Mary’s house, new book in hand, and Joseph, basically forgotten. The book Mary chose was an interesting commentary on murder mystery novels. Much more enjoyable compared to last meetings book, you finished it in the first week.

Now a month later you found yourself back in front of Marys door, only this time without the feeling of dread, and you could hear the ladies inside laughing and chatting, it was safe to enter.

Mary had set up in her living room, tea and biscuits already laid out on the coffee table while Linda and Kylie gossiped to themselves about the rising price of bananas and the woman who lived down the road from them. Another woman sat quietly going over her notes on this month’s book, only looking up briefly to give you a kind smile. You could hear Mary laughing loudly in the kitchen, a delightful smell of tomato and basil wafting from the room. You followed the smell to catch Mary offering Teresa a spoonful of her spaghetti sauce.

“Oh, that’s naughty” you whispered, approaching the two ladies.

“Just a taste test before we serve it to everyone” Mary giggled, handing out a spoon for you to try.

You grabbed the spoon for yourself but before the sauce could make it to your mouth it had slipped off and down the front of your white shirt.

“Oh damn!” Mary cursed, grabbing a tea towel and gently dabbing it off. “Quick go to the bathroom, I have stain removing spray under the sink”

You didn’t waste any time and rushed down the hall towards the bathroom, not paying any attention when you reached for the handle and the door swung open before you could touch it, steam and heat hitting you in the face, as well as a solid body.

“Shit!” I’m so sorry!” That familiar deep voice swore in front of you.

Joe stood in the doorway, in only a pair of sweatpants, a towel around his shoulder and dripping wet curls in his face.

“What are you doing here” You grumbled, moving aside so you could swap places, Joe now staring at you stood in the doorway.

“This is my mums house- what happened here” Joes face turned from shock to a shit eating grin as he pointed to your chest, rather the large red stain on your chest.

“Spaghetti sauce”

Joe chuckled, “You’re supposed to eat it, not wear it”

“Ha-ha, you’re funny” You rolled your eyes, turning around to ignore Joe in search for the spray Mary sent you here for. Did she know Joe was in there? Was this another scheme?

Joe returned midway through you holding your shirt stretched out, stomach on display while you awkwardly sprayed the stained area.

“Here, put this on and give me that, ill get it out” He was fully dressed now in a matching sweat set, a black shirt outstretched.

You stared at him for a moment before shaking your head. “No, I can’t wear that”

“Why not?” Joe asked giving you a confused look.

“I have to go out there!” you cried, earning a deadpan look from Joe.

“So?”

“So? They’ll gossip! they’ll ask questions, it’ll become a whole situation.”

You realised you may have become slightly dramatic over this exchange but your interactions with Joe had surpassed your comfort level.

“Fine, wear the stained shirt” Joe gave you a tight smile before walking out. You looked back down at your shirt, it honestly looked worse, the stain had bled out into a larger patch.

You returned to the group, laughing with the ladies about your accident while Mary went around serving everyone a bowl of pasta before you began your meeting.

“Joe not give you any trouble?” Mary asked when she got to you, which you answered with a short no.

Because, of course she knew he was in there.

[honey-flustered]

Kinktober 8: Feeding/Stuffing + Cuckolding

Michael (Hoard) x Married!Milf!Older!Reader

Summary: Michael sure does love your cookies (derogatory).

Warnings: age gap (Michael 20s, Reader mid 30s), unhealthy food consumption, face stuffing kink, cheating/swinging/cuckolding, food sexual innuendos/puns

It’s odd. You specifically remember mothering two growing boys. But you’ve counted two growing boys and one fully grown man…

Michael lives next door at the Michelle residence, his foster mother’s home, along with his pregnant girlfriend. You’d think he’d stay clear of you, the ‘MILF with the Pink Flamingos’. Yet, he’s been in your kitchen several times anticipating your delicious baked goods.

He’s always responded well to your cooking. In fact, you remember the first time you and your husband had moved into the neighborhood, introducing yourselves to the neighbors when you’d approached Michael’s door with a platter of lemon cakes. He immediately gave you ‘the eye’ as he’d taken a bite of the confectionery, highly praising you and going for seconds—thirds. From the way he openly flirted with you, you assumed he knew exactly what you and your husband were into until you’d met his proper girlfriend who clearly isn’t one to fool around.

Still every evening, Michael would come over to your home, flirting and scarfing down whatever you gave him. A quiet sick part of you enjoyed seeing the way his belly would protrude after a satisfying home-cooked meal. You especially love it when he’d curl up against you on the couch —after hours when your husband and the kiddos are in bed—making you rub his tummy and soothe his hair.

Today is no different. There you are rubbing his belly on the couch and playing in his hair when he looks up at your lap.

“The meaning of those pink flamingos out there…do they have anything to do with why there are so many couples in the neighborhood competing for you and your partner’s attention?” Michael questions.

“Why yes,” You giggle, moving a strands of hair away from his forehead. “We’re swingers.”

“That explains why your husband doesn’t seem to mind my presence.” He says, snuggling more up against you.

“Oh, he does mind it,” You admit. “We only swing with open couples. You and your lover aren’t exactly open, are you? Anything happening between us would be considered cheating.”

“The wicked smile on your face tells me, you aren’t entirely against it.” Michael smirks, breath hitching when you dip your finger in his bellybutton before soothing over his happy trail.

“I’m a mother and a housewife, Michael. I don’t wreck homes, I remodel them,” You quip, tugging his hair as a gesture for him to rise up from your lap. He stares at you with both confusion and hurt as if feeling rejected. “My husband’s standing on a stair-step just out of view from our eyes but enough to where he can watch us. He doesn’t trust that you wouldn’t try anything with me despite the many nights you’ve rested in my lap.”

“Is he looking for a show?” Michael says, gripping the fat of your thighs.

“Maybe,” You answer. “Or maybe he’s just making sure you aren’t eating my cookies. He especially loves those and you didn’t leave not a crumble for him last time.”

You pick up a small cake from your tray, raising it up to his lips. “You can have as much cake as you want though.”

Michael smiles, widening his mouth to accept the sweet treat. You cram it in messily, your fingers coated with icing and cake fluff. He swirls his tongue around your fingers, sucking in earnest while maintaining eye contact with you.

When he’s done licking your fingers clean, he sighs happily. “Luckily for him, I’m big on cake-eating.”

[lovejosephquinn]

Don't mind me, just writing my morning Christmas Eve horny thoughts down 💀

Under 18's DNI.

It was quite obviously the middle of the night, the darkness surrounded you tucked up in bed with your boyfriend. You stirred from the sound of muffled whimpers beside you, the slight sound of movement beneath the quilt. Keeping your eyes shut and listening for a minute, you hear what seems to be spit being lathered onto the length of Joe's cock, he smoothers it down from the base and upward making his body tense up, a slight hitch of a moan loudly erupts from his throat and your eyes shoot open as you start to feel the way his fist pumps slowly up and down. Fuck.

You're turned on your side facing him so you edge forward so your mouth's inches away from his ear. "You need some help baby?" You whispered in a low, seductive tone. Joe could feel your presence, a smirk falling onto his features as he felt your hand creep over his, enveloping around his fingers, moving with him. "I d-didn't want to wake you and I couldn't stop thinking about the way your tight little cunt feels when I fuck you." Joe muttered, the deep resonance of his voice showed he had been asleep, but had clearly woke up with a stiff and incredibly hard erection, fantasising about you.

"Let me touch you." Joe's hand instantly released his shaft into yours, you spat onto your hand quickly and mixed your spit into his, skimming your finger tip over his leaking head, Joe bit down on his lip, crumbling underneath the soft touch. "Fuck Y/N, yeah touch me like that."

Your fist now gripped around his length, feeling every vein popping out, enjoying the way his hardness twitched in your contact. Jerking his cock in a swift, fast motion. You stopped. "B-baby don't stop."

"I'm not." You exited downward, the sheets devouring you as you took the tip of his cock between your lips, sucking harshly, making his hips buck up and a couple more inches entering your mouth.

"Mmm, you're such a naughty girl, suck my cock for me." Joe's head fell backward, his eyes rolling, his mouth gaping open as you didn't waste a moment in taking every inch of him inside, his hand grabbed your hair, pushing it up into a ponytail whilst saliva leaked out of the corners of your mouth, the moment you felt the tip hit your tonsils, your choking noises cloaked from the bed covers, the movement of your head sliding up and down. You moved down to his balls, caressing them with your tongue, nibbling on the loose skin and taking them one by one in your mouth, sucking rampantly and slipping them out with a pop sound.

Licking a stripe up from the base and back to the tip, Joe could barely hold on not a few minutes longer. "Let me fuck that slutty little mouth, my cock's aching to cum down that throat of yours. You want my cum baby?"

You smiled against his tip, your lips brushing and he could feel you nodding slightly. "Good fucking girl, open your mouth wide."

You did just as he said and his hand pushed you downward in one fell swoop, your eyes watered as he took you to your limit, gagging against the base of his cock, your tongue lapping around it, Joe's moans were flying everywhere which made you hum with your mouth full. "Yes, yes, yes. Take my cock, take my fucking cock."

His hips thrusted upward, deepthroating you only once more until his cock began to spew pools of cum into your mouth, trickling down your throat as you swallowed the lot, his hand releasing you whilst you rid him through his high, his body spasming, toes curling and within the darkness, Joe could see stars in his vision.

You came back up to where you previously lay. "Thank you my love." His lips found yours amongst the pitch black, tasting the saltiness on your tongue, his cock softening yet still throbbing from the intensity of the orgasm you unleashed upon him.

"Turn over, I need my little spoon." Joe moved his arms around you, caging you to him, a slight sigh of contentment fell from his mouth, he could go back to sleep happily knowing that when he woke again, his cock would probably be buried inside your cunt, fucking up into your walls fast and erratically, hearing the memory of your moans as you attacked his neck when he leaned down to thrust hard, he'd let his imagination begin to run wild once again until that moment came.

[icallhimjoey]

this might be too close to your most recent but possible ficspiration? I'm stressed and run down and I think you are too, and I woke up today just wanting a lazy lie-in morning with our soft boyfriend to make the real world go away. bonus points for a lil soft smut.

everyone deserves a soft lil joey who just wants a lazy little lie in with us so here you go - enjoy! (tw: lil teeny tiny bit of smut) Wordcount: 2.5K

---

Five More Minutes

"Mhmm... five more minutes." You tucked duvet where there wasn't any yet and curled up tight, ducking into your shoulders, ready to ignore real world chaos for at least a little while longer.

Five more minutes longer.

You weren’t sure when the words slipped into your bloodstream and became part of you. If they were already there before Joe, or if it had born into life just from being with him. 

Of course, you’d said them a thousand times before.

Everyone did. 

But it was a real habit now. A thing you did. Your subconscious had grown accustomed to forming the words when sleep even only slightly threatened to slip away upon waking. 

Five more minutes. 

You could be on an airplane, being tapped on the shoulder by a flight attendant and you’d tell them, “Five more minutes.” getting giggles from everyone within earshot. Or you could be on your own sofa on a weekend afternoon being woken up by the doorbell ringing and you’d tell an empty flat, “Five more minutes.” and then would have to go and collect whatever delivery you’d missed at the post office later.

You’d mutter it to no one, to strangers, but more often than not; you’d say it to Joe.

Five more minutes. 

You’d always say it. Even if you didn’t have five minutes to spare, and also if you’d have all day to snooze - the words would slip out before you'd even know it, inaudible and unintelligible, strung together with sleep, but you’d always say them. 

And then, after spending enough time together, Joe started doing the same. 

"Mhmm... five more minutes." Joe was the one to say it that morning, voice barely there, just a low rumble of noise.

You had to reach over him to stop the alarm on his phone from increasing in volume, and Joe took advantage of your body being close by wrapping both his arms around your middle, keeping you there.

"Joe..."

"Hmm," Joe groaned, body sleep warm, but his grip deceptively strong seeing as he was barely awake. "Five more min–..." Joe didn't even finish the words, ending on a sigh as he nosed at your cheek.

It took just about all of your willpower to not give in and just fall back asleep right on top of him.

You knew Joe would let it happen.

He'd easily ignore every responsibility if it meant cuddling with his favourite person underneath his sheets for however long he wanted.

He couldn’t pull you in close enough if he tried; he wanted you to share the same pillow, to breathe in the scent of your skin as his nose pressed into your neck. 

Joe wanted your weight on top of him forever, one hand free to hold your ass, the other free to touch whatever else he wanted; drawing lines down your side, finger tips sneaking under your top to crawl along your back, leaving shivers in their wake.

Joe just wanted a lifetime of this, even longer if it existed, but if five more minutes were all he was going to get, he’d take it, and was that really too much to ask?

"Joe..." his name left your lips in a murmur that you tried to make sound like a threat - like anything you could ever say in his bed could sound like a threat.

Silly.

Joe skillfully ignored you, mouth grazing over your cheek as one of his hands squeezed your hip tightly before slipping up and under your T-shirt.

And it was lovely. Warm and soft and gentle and, just, lovely.

But you knew Joe didn't have the time.

When Joe's palm started rounding out to your front to find new bits to grab at, you groaned loudly and tried to actually fight his grip this time.

"No, babe, I love you, but you have to get up."

You sat up, now straddling the boy, duvet falling down the back of you, exposing Joe to the temperature of the room and it made him flinch before curling up to preserve whatever warmth he could.

"Five more–" Joe tried once more, face burying deeper into his pillow, one arm reaching out to pull you back, but you were already gone. Up and out. Pushing the duvet even further down the bed in a bid to make sure Joe couldn't easily snuggle back up under.

"How dare you..." Joe gasped, already sounding more awake, humour hidden somewhere in his vowels.  

"Well," you smiled, using both arms to open the blinds, bathing Joe in morning sunlight. "I said I love you and you didn’t say it back, so..." you reasoned, giving a slight shrug of a single shoulder.

"Um, I don't want to alarm you," Joe started, not ready to give in just yet, now bending into shapes to reach for a corner of the duvet, "But I love you so much I don't think you fully understand."

You scoffed as you walked past the bed, a quick hand moving the duvet even further out of Joe's reach, making him grumble in defeat.

"You calling me stupid?" you teased, grinning at Joe's failed attempt to get back into bed the way he wanted to, and you started collecting an outfit from his wardrobe.

"No," Joe said, now finally sitting up, vanquished by the morning. His hair went every which way, a look you fucking loved on him, but a look you know Joe hated.

"You’re the smartest person I know, which actually is a real testimony to this amount of love I’ve got cooking for you."

Sat with his bum sunken into his mattress and tummy rolls on show, Joe rubbed a hand over his face and had to squint when he stared straight into the sun for a second.

"Yea?" you asked, arms full of clothes, stepping closer to the bed for a quick morning smooch before you'd jump into the shower.

Joe got the hint immediately, head tipping back to get you right on the lips.

"Cook me breakfast instead."

It was easy to get up and drag Joe out of bed on mornings where you'd actually gotten enough sleep in the night. When the evening before you'd been sensible and had gone, night babe, slipping into bed without waiting up for Joe.

But then the nights where you did wait up for Joe, where you forgot about your early morning for a second and stayed up late together; those mornings were tough and left you to be the one to whine for an extra five minutes.

You were still half asleep when the fresh scent of shower reached your nose.

The rustling of Joe getting dressed is what pulled you from your slumber more, and when you peeked with a careful squinty eye, you saw how the sun was barely even up yet.

Illegal.

Joe had no business dressing up into a button-up this early in the morning.

You were about to turn over to see if your prediction was correct, if Joe really was partaking in criminal behaviour before dawn, but before you could, you were slapped right out of your soft snoozy state.

Not Joe's fault that your ass peeking from the covers, all round, all deserving of a little lovetrap, distracted him mid getting ready.

You groaned loudly at the shock, the sharp fraction of a second of pain already gone before it even fully registered, and before you could even complain about it, Joe lovingly rubbed a large palm over the now reddening skin.

"Good morning."

"Noo," you whined, reaching behind to push his hand away so you could try to cover yourself up more.

"Five more minutes."

Joe let your hand find his to tangle fingers together, and if you weren't after some morning cuddles over the covers, you really should have been more clear.

Air was pushed from your lungs when Joe let himself fall right on top of you, trapping your arms in between you a little weirdly, and you felt on your face that Joe's hair was wet from his shower still.

You knew this was likely Joe's stupid way of waking you up where he thought you'd find him annoying enough to push him off of you in a struggle he wasn't going to let you win easily.

However, Joe was wrong.

Instead of fighting him off, you shifted onto your back, just enough to where you felt comfortable with Joe's full bodyweight on top of you and got both your arms around his neck, trapping him right where you wanted him.

You'd get him back another time for the brutal ass-slap.

This was prime snuggly morning time, and Joe smelt all fresh and clean, teeth brushed and skin moisturized, and it wasn't your fault that morning cuddles just happened to be infinitely better than late night ones. You'd be sleep soft like you were now, and Joe wouldn't hesitate to sink heavy limbs over your frame; you somehow never overheated in the morning.

And, listen. Who was Joe to deny you this bliss?

You could have five more minutes of this, no questions asked.

"I've got coffee waiting," he murmured into your ear after a while, no sign of him moving to get up yet, though.

"Hmm, that's okay, you can have it cold." you whispered back, eyes closed, nose nuzzling into the skin by his ear.

You felt Joe's stomach muscles pull as he silently laughed.

"Iced coffee." you simply said just before you felt Joe try to pull free from the headlock you had him in.

"Room temp doesn't count as iced," he argued softly, leaning back just far enough to get a good look at your face. The cheek that had been pressed to his tinged slightly red. Joe couldn't help smile at it.

"How do you wake up this good looking?" Joe started, and before he'd even finished his sentence, you were already frowning through a smile, clearly disagreeing. Made him laugh.

"No, I'm serious, here you are, two seconds after waking up, a literal, like, Disney princess, whereas I– did you see me? I wake up and it's, it's honestly shocking, I'm all," Joe pulled a face that was meant to be ugly, but was just him raising his eyebrows whilst squinting both eyes shut. Made you laugh.

He looked at you like that a second until you leant up and planted a kiss right on his mouth.

You felt how Joe's slow grin grew into the kiss and for a moment, you thought maybe if you held onto Joe tightly enough, you'd be able to coax him back into bed with you.

Just for a little while.

Five more minutes.

But then Joe broke the kiss, and instead of feeling Joe's slow smile, you got to look at it for a moment as he hovered over you a second too long.

If he had places to be, surely those places could wait, you thought.

Joe had a literal Disney princess in his bed, he'd just said.

"Five more minutes?" you asked softly, both your hands finding Joe's cheeks to cup.

You couldn't help thinking how Joe looked nice. Pretty. Skin shiny from scrubbing and hair kept in place by how wet it still was.

"Hmm," Joe mused, leaning into your touch and closing his eyes a second. "You can have all the more minutes you want, but I..." Joe inhaled sharply. "I have to get going."

You groaned with annoyance, head dropping backwards deeper into your pillow, but the wallowing only lasted a second, because as he struggled his way back onto his feet, Joe got you with kisses to your chin, jaw, cheeks, nose and eventually, your lips.

Promises of cooking dinner tonight at a normal hour were made, and whilst doing up the last of his buttons, you started saying, "Hate to see you go," of which Joe knew exactly how the quote ended. As he walked out, he stopped right at the threshold to lean into his hip, popping his booty, his face doing the absolute most trying to suppress a smile as you finished, "But I love to watch you leave."

It wasn't so bad being woken up by Joe before the sun was even up if it meant he left you in a fit of giggles.

But the best mornings?

The best mornings were the ones where you both had no place to be.

Where you just got to add five more minutes to five more minutes to five more minutes.

Mornings where you'd wake up and would whisper, "Five more minutes..." and reached for Joe who'd greedily accept you into his arms and would say it right back, "Five more minutes."

Where you'd try to crawl into each other's skin, early morning light warming your tangled legs that stuck out from under the covers.

Where words knitted together with sleep as Joe asked, "Hey, you know what day it is?" and you'd sleepily answer, "Saturday?" and Joe'd reply, "That's right, just another day." as he'd pull you into him tighter.

Where you were still soft with sleep as Joe's front curved to your back and an arm curled around which you got to hug close, using his hand to rest your head into.

Where the need to be close became so overwhelming that Joe would make sure he got you on top of him exactly how he wanted, one hand grabbing at the fat of your bum whilst the other snuck around into your underwear.

Where a soft, "Hmm?" was enough of a question, and "Mhmm." was enough of an answer for Joe to push himself inside, not enough strength to hold his head up, but just enough to buck his hips up and hold your thigh in place.

Where he'd groan to your whines, warm palm running flat across the curves of your waist underneath your top, teasing the soft skin just under your boobs.

Where the sex was so slow and lazy, it would go on for ages, neither of you in a rush to really go anywhere, essentially spoon-fucking yourselves slowly awake.

Where eventually someone's stomach would rumble and Joe would start whispering things into your ear about breakfast in between his own panting and the frequent oh-fucks he'd let slip out.

"What if we, ahh, what if we went and got coffee," Joe'd mumble, kissing you over your shoulder, breath hot, skin sticky. "And then go to the shops, get– oh fuck, get bagels, yea? Maybe some bacon, and eggs?"

And you'd whine at the suggestion, barely managing to squeak out, "Avocados." which would for whatever reason make Joe push in extra deep and moan so loud, it'd make you laugh.

Joe would make you orgasm, just before he'd come himself, and in your come down, he'd murmur a soft, "Five more minutes." as he burrowed his nose into your skin.

And you'd agree, "Five more minutes.", hiding both of your bodies underneath the covers, ready to ignore real world chaos for at least a little while longer.

Five more minutes longer, to be exact.

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @demonsanddemogorgons

@djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer

@everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @gri959, @hanahkatexo

@hazelenys, @imjustjen14, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven

@kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr

@munson-mjstan, @munsonssweets, @nadixq, @niallersfreckles, @notverywise

@pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @prettiestboyreid, @readergf, @royale1803

@skulliecadaver-blog, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson

@sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow

@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

[harrywavycurly]

Texting Joseph Quinn Part 23: Fandom

Masterlist: Here

A/N: This was fun and I’m so sorry yall have had to wait so long for an update but I hope you enjoy and happy Valentine’s Day!💖

[archivequinn]

curls :)

[babybluebex]

𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 | 𝐣𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: dr. joseph quinn is set to speak at an important conference, and, of course, he invites you, his assistant, to come with him. after months of pining and flirting, what can go wrong when the hotel only books you one bed? part one of three 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: joseph quinn (professor!au) x fem!reader 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: rpf (real person fiction), drinking, praise kink, smut (MINORS DNI): kissing, heavy petting 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: big thanks to @lunatictardis for her help with this fic! you're the best mea! also this was TOTALLY inspired by his professor vibes on day 3 of fanexpo nola hehe

“I’m really glad you asked me to come with you.” 

That roused Dr. Quinn out of his sleepy reading. The plane around you was pretty quiet, although gaining volume the imminent descent, but that didn’t stop Dr. Joseph Quinn from blinking blearily as he looked up from his pages of notes. He was set to lecture tomorrow morning, one of the opening lectures at a conference centered on English literature, and your professor— and boss— had insisted you come with him. 

“Well, of course,” Dr. Quinn said quickly. He often chastised you for calling him Dr. Quinn, always saying “Call me Joe, love”, but nothing ever felt as right as Doc. Sometimes, during quiet, appreciative moments, you would call him Joseph, but Joe was a far-fetched dream. “You’re my assistant, I’d be crazy not to bring you.” 

“But I’m just your TA,” you rebutted. “I’m not, like, a personal assistant or anything.” 

“Eh,” Joseph shrugged. “Close enough.”

“But I’m glad you asked me,” you continued. It had taken a lot of convincing from him for you to even come— “it’s over Christmas holiday, so you won’t be missing any classes; the university will pay for airfare and the hotel; you have nothing to worry about, other than being there for me.”— but, in the end, you were being honest. “It’s the chance of a lifetime. I’m excited.” 

“I’m glad you think so,” Joseph said. He groaned and rolled his neck and began to pack up his notes, sliding them into a pocket of his briefcase, and he mumbled, “I cannot wait for this bed. My back hurts from these damn seats.” 

“Oh, yeah,” you groaned. The plane seats were less than optimal, and you chewed on your bottom lip. “And you booked us two rooms?” 

“The university did,” Joseph said, peering at you from over his glasses. “So, if anything is fucked up, blame them.” 

“I will,” you smiled. An ugly feeling persisted in your gut, though— something would go wrong, you were sure of it. You always had had a good intuition, and that sinking feeling was present as the intercom binged on and announced your arrival in London, far from your home. 

There was a car waiting for you at the airport and, after getting your luggage, you squeezed in next to Joseph and gave him a tired smile. You were both exhausted from a long day of traveling, and you were just as much looking forward to the bed as he was. Maybe a hot shower, or even a bath, if your room had a bathtub. 

You tailed behind Joseph as he entered the hotel once the car delivered you, and he gave the woman at the front desk a good-natured smile. Your boss was handsome, there was no denying it. He was so handsome that, if he wanted to be a movie star, he could have been. Instead, he had chosen to teach English literature, and, because of his— albeit short but prosperous— career, he had been asked to attend the conference and give a lecture on tragedies, something he had studied throughout his entire academic career. 

“Hello there,” Joseph said to the receptionist. “Um, I have a reservation under the name Quinn.” 

“Mr. Quinn,” the receptionist repeated, and she clicked on her computer for a moment. “Ah, yes, I see you— one room, king bed?”

“Oh, goodness.” 

Oh goodness, indeed. 

“No, no, there’s been a mistake,” your boss said quickly, pushing his glasses up on his nose. He looked suddenly distraught, and he furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to understand the snafu. “There were supposed to be two rooms, one for me and one for my assistant.” He gestured at you, and your grip on the handle of your suitcase tightened. 

You knew it. Your gut had told you once again that something would go wrong, and it had. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” the receptionist said. “We don’t have any other rooms; we’re all booked up for the conference. There’s a sleeper sofa in the room?” 

Joseph clenched his back teeth and looked over his shoulder at you, and you shrugged. “I’ll be fine, sir,” you told him. “It’s just for two nights.” 

“Yeah, but…” Joseph started, and he turned back to the receptionist. “There’s truly nothing you can do?”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “We’re all booked up.” 

Joseph sighed, his thumb tapping on the handle of his luggage. “It’s alright,” he said. “Thank you, darling.” He took the keycards from the receptionist’s waiting hand and slipped them into the pocket of his slacks, and he looked at you. “After you, love,” he said, and you sighed as you started out of the lobby, in search of the elevators. 

Joseph only spoke again once you were alone in the elevator. “I’m really sorry,” he said. 

You shrugged. “It’s out of your control,” you told him. “I’m not upset.” 

“Are you sure?” Joseph asked. “Because it’s okay if you are. I’ll take the sofa, you can have the bed.” 

“Oh, God, no,” you said quickly. “No, sir, this is your conference, you’re gonna be working all weekend, you deserve the bed.” 

“But I can’t just let you sleep on the sofa,” Joseph said. Behind his glasses, his eyes were big, dark as night and wide as he pleaded with you. “Please, take the bed, it’ll make me feel better.” 

The elevator dinged up to the fifth floor, and you took the charge, leading Joseph to room 525, the one that the receptionist had identified as yours. 

You waited for Joseph to unlock the door, and the familiar smell of hotel room filled your nose as the door opened. The air was stale but clean, and you peered inside to see the one big, white-clothed bed, the indicated sleeper sofa under the window on the opposite side of the room. It looked uncomfortable, and you took a seat on it as Joseph settled his luggage next to it. The springs squeaked underneath you, and you frowned wider as you looked at it and realized that it was, in fact, not a sleeper sofa. It was just a regular couch, one hardly big enough to fit you, let alone Joseph. “This isn’t…” you started, but sighed instead. “I knew I had a bad feeling about this trip.” 

“Hey, don’t say that,” Joseph said with a scowl. “We’ll get this sorted out and everything will be alright. Maybe somebody will cancel a room and we can get it.” 

“I know,” you mumbled. “But, God, I just… Sorry. In a bad mood.” 

Joseph’s frown grew, and he sat down next to you, rubbing your back soothingly. He had always been like this, very tactile and sweet with you, but never crossing boundaries. You could tell that he truly appreciated your work as his TA, grading papers for him and sometimes leading class if he asked for you to, and he was always very thankful for you, sending you flowers and buying you coffee all the time. “Dr. Quinn, you know other professors don’t treat their TAs like this,” you had tried to tell him once, but he had just smiled at you. “I know,” he had responded with that movie star smile. “But other professors don’t appreciate their TAs the way I do you.” 

Sometimes you wondered if there was more than met the eye with your boss, but there would be no avenue to explore that; he was your boss. Before he was your boss, he was your professor. It would be unprofessional at the very least and, if you were caught, you would lose your job (and likely your scholarships) and Joseph would more than likely be asked to leave the university. So, all of the lingering touches of his hand to yours and laughs shared over dinners would have to be relegated back into nothingness— no feelings, no actions, nothing. 

“What can I do to fix this?” Joseph asked, his eyes a little wet as he looked at you. “I just hate seeing you so upset.” 

“Maybe…” you started, chewing on your bottom lip. You were dehydrated from the flight, and your skin was dry, and you sighed. “Maybe we could share the bed? It’s big enough for both of us, and if we put, like, a pillow barrier in the middle…?”

“Oh, love,” Joseph said softly. “You know we can’t do that.” 

“Who has to know?” you asked. “If we don’t tell anybody…” 

You almost worried that you had offended him, with the way his silence stretched on and on, but the wrinkle between his eyebrows told you that he was legitimately thinking about it. “Let’s talk about it more tonight,” Joseph said finally. “After dinner, yeah?” 

“Alright,” you agreed. The way he didn’t immediately say no lifted your spirits slightly, and you stood up, brushing dust off of your skirt. “What’s for dinner?” 

Joseph smiled at you, his movie star smile that made your legs nearly buckle, and he slotted his hand with yours. “Whatever you’d like.”

Dinner ended up being down in the hotel restaurant. It was a little busy, but you and Joseph managed to find a table for the two of you, nestled into the back corner. You almost preferred it that way, secluded and apart from everyone else. You and Joseph were used to dinner together— he often would order take-away to his office while you were helping grade essays, and you always would end up abandoning the essays and talking together— but never anything like this. The candlelight made everything feel intimate, like it was almost a date. 

“Wine?” Joseph asked, looking down at the menu in his hands. He still wore the clothes he had worn on the plane, slacks and butter-yellow shirt, his hair messy and his glasses perched just so on his nose, and he looked exhausted, but he was the usual ball of composed energy that he always was. 

You shrugged. “I don’t really like wine,” you told him. “But if you want some, go for it.” 

“Don’t like wine?” Joseph repeated, his eyes playfully narrowing at you. “What sort of academic are you?” 

“I just don’t!” you giggled. “Unless it’s really good. I just don’t like anything that’s bitter.” 

“What the fuck…?” Joseph grumbled, turning the menu over to see the wine list on the back. You laughed, and his smile betrayed his grumpy attitude. “Don’t like wine, I don’t believe you for one second.” 

“I just don’t like the way it makes me feel,” you told him, side-stepping the real reason you didn’t want to drink wine around him. It made you feel easy and loose, in a way that you probably shouldn’t be around your crush-slash-boss. You settled on a better reason: “It makes me feel like garbage the next morning.” 

“Well, we don’t want that, do we?” Joseph asked. “I’m gonna order a red, but if you want something else, tell me.” 

“Should we be drinking right now?” you asked teasingly. “We’re technically working.” 

“Ah, live a little,” Joseph shrugged. “We’re not at work right now. If we were at a lecture or a panel, that would be different.” 

Live a little. Sure. “Order me a glass too,” you told him. “Let’s drink a toast.” 

“To?” Joseph asked, tilting his head curiously. 

“Getting through one hell of a semester,” you said. “And to give us strength for the next one.” 

“Hear, hear,” Joseph said with a smile. 

Once you had the wine in your hands, you found yourself becoming less uptight. Your shoulders relaxed, and you settled your arms on the table as you leaned forward and listened to Joseph prattle on about the lecture he had to give tomorrow morning. “I’m honestly nervous,” he said, rotating his glass around and watching the wine move with it. It was a dark red drink, something that made the corners of your mouth curl with its sour, dry bitterness, but the warmth that grew in your chest made you keep drinking it. “I’ve never been nervous to teach before, but this is so different.” 

“It’s a different crowd,” you told him. “It’s not students this time, it’s other educators. Just think about it like you’re sharing something cool with your friends, don’t think of it as a lecture, exactly.” 

Joseph looked at his wine glass, then at you, and a small smile crossed his lips. “What would I do without you?” he asked, leaning closer to you. 

“You’d be way behind on grading,” you giggled, and Joseph smiled wider. “I don’t know, sir. I really like working for you. You’re just awesome, so I’m glad that you like me.” 

“Aw,” Joseph said. “How could I not like you? You’re so kind and funny, and you’re… Really gorgeous. I like looking up from my grading and seeing you sitting on the couch in my office, working on your own schoolwork. You always get this-this look on your face, like you’re thinking so hard— a little wrinkle between your eyebrows.”

“You do the same thing,” you told him. “I must’ve picked it up from you.” You sipped at the wine, frowning at the bitter taste again, and Joseph took notice. 

“You don’t have to drink that,” Joseph told you gently. “I can order you something else.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” you told him quickly. “I just… I just like spending time with you.” 

“Really?” Joseph asked. He seemed taken aback by the topic change— maybe by the content of the topic change itself— but a flush under his beard told you all that you needed to know; he was flattered. “I like spending time with you too.” 

He inched closer to you still, close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his chest, and you moved closer to him too. Your knee touched his, but neither of you made any movements to stop it— instead, Joseph let his hand touch your leg, his thumb soothing up and down your knee. 

“I just like you,” you told him. Your hand drifted down to his hand, grasping his fingers, and Joseph raised his big brown eyes to your face, watching your lips as you sipped at your wine again. 

“This is a bad thing we’re doing,” Joseph said softly, shaking his head gently. “You should tell me to stop.” 

“Stop what?” you asked. “I like it a lot. What if I want you to do more?” 

“You’re asking for trouble,” Joseph said quickly, his grip tightening on your knee. 

“What if I like trouble?” you asked. 

That struck your boss silent, and he leaned back for a moment, watching you with his owlish eyes. “The bed,” he started, and you deflated. Of course he would stop it before it got good. “I’m more than happy to take the couch, I’m telling you. We don’t have to share or anything.” 

“It’s big enough to fit both of us,” you said. “Dr. Quinn, please, I know what I’m doing.” 

“I don’t think you do,” Joseph said flatly. “Because you keep looking at me like that, and you won’t call me by my first name, and you’re practically begging me to share a bed with you, you have no idea what you're doing to me.” 

“Oh,” you said softly. “Docto… Joseph. I’m not trying to… I don’t know, seduce you or anything.” 

“But you are,” Joseph said. “But I’m not upset about it. In fact, I like it. It’s been a while since anyone’s tried to seduce me, and, darling, it’s lovely to be seduced.” 

You were taken aback. You truly weren’t trying to do anything, and the fact that you had an effect on him made your head spin. Maybe it was the wine. You took another drink as you watched Joseph, his hand still on your leg, his lips looking perfectly plump and soft, and you whispered, “You’re drunk.” 

“No,” Joseph said. “I’ve had one glass of wine.” 

“You’re not exactly sober,” you battled. “We shouldn’t do anything if we’re both not sober.” 

“I’ve waited for half a year,” Joseph shrugged, swirling his wine around in his glass again. “I can wait one more night.” 

“Can you?” you asked. “‘Cause… ‘Cause I’m not sure I wanna wait anymore.” 

“Pardon?” Joseph asked, his face going pale. 

“Kiss me, Joseph,” you told him. “Please, I’ve been waiting too long—“

Joseph took your face in his hands, fingers grasping your chin as he drew you into his warm body, and he kissed you. Finally, it felt as if a whole semester of pining was being brought out, and fireworks exploded in your belly. His mouth was juicy and warm, his tongue soft as he slid it into your mouth, and you eagerly kissed him back as your hands grasped at the lapels of his shirt. 

When the kiss broke, you frowned. You weren’t quite ready yet, and you started to chase Joseph back into a kiss, and he placated you with a quick peck. “I’ll give you all you want,” he whispered, his accent curling in your ears and making you dizzy. “Let’s get back to the room first.” 

The journey back to the room was torturous. You held onto his hand as you waited in the elevator bay, and you couldn’t help your giggles when he tugged you close into his body, chest to chest. “You’re so beautiful,” Joseph whispered. “How I managed to wait so long, I’ll never know.” 

“To be fair, we’ve never gotten drunk together before,” you said, and Joseph jokingly rolled his eyes. 

“We’re not drunk,” he said pointedly. “We had one glass of wine each, that’s hardly even tipsy.” 

“Mhm,” you nodded jokingly, and Joseph rolled his eyes. 

“Fuck off,” he scoffed. “See if I make love to you now.” 

“Ooh, you wanna make love to me?” you giggled. “You’re such a romantic, I figured you’d just wanna fuck and then leave.”

“First of all, where would I go?” Joseph chuckled. “We only have one room. Second of all… Do other guys treat you that way?” 

“I mean…” you started. The elevator dinged and the doors opened, and you and Joseph stepped inside as you contemplated your words. “Not all guys. But enough for it to be a habit.” 

Joseph cooed softly, drawing you into his body, and he softly kissed your cheek, his beard nestling just right into your skin. “I won’t treat you that way,” he said. “I’m a grown man, I won’t just abandon you at the slightest provocation. All those boys, they didn’t know what a good thing they had.” 

“And you do?” you asked. “You think I’m a good thing?”

“I know you’re a good thing,” Joseph said with a softness to his voice that only made you sure that he was being honest. “It’s like I’ve always told you, you are beautiful—” he paused to press a kiss to your forehead, “And you’re funny—” Another kiss to your cheek, “And you’re a proper good time. I’ve wanted this since I met you.” 

“Really?” you asked. “B-But I was your student back when we first met.” 

Joseph shrugged. “Can you blame me?” he asked. The elevator dinged again, opening up on your floor, and he took your hand, leading you back to the room. Your tummy was doing flips as you walked, getting closer and closer to that bed, and you attached your lips to his neck as he fumbled in his pants for the keycard. “Fuck, love,” he whispered, turning his head a bit to expose his neck to you even more. 

“Hurry up,” you giggled, and you gently bit his neck as Joseph finally found the keycard in his pocket, and he rushed to unlock the door. He tugged you in with little decorum and, once the door was shut, he pressed you up against it and kissed you.

This kiss wasn’t like the one you had shared downstairs. No, this one was hungrier, his tongue dominating your mouth and licking your lips as his hands grabbed at you. He pressed his knee between your thighs and opened up your legs, letting his thigh slot between yours, and you tugged at his curls as you moaned softly. “Fuck,” Joseph whispered, his teeth scraping your bottom lip. “You sound so pretty.” 

“You do too,” you told him. 

“You haven’t heard me moan yet,” Joseph said softly, and you smiled, chasing him back to you with a quick kiss. 

“No,” you said against his lips. “But your voice…” 

“You like listening to me talk?” Joseph asked, and you nodded. “Oh, my girl… I’ll never shut up around you now.” 

“As if you ever did in the first place,” you giggled, and Joseph smiled. 

“True,” he said. “When I have to talk for a living, that doesn’t make it easy to shut up.” 

“How ‘bout you shut up now, and fuck me?” you asked, grinding your hips down onto his thigh, and you gasped. You could feel his hard erection through his trousers, resting pretty on his thigh, threatening to bust out of the zipper; he was big, and your tummy resumed its excited flips. 

Joseph hummed contently, and he grabbed hard at your hips. You loved the juxtaposition of him, being so soft and treating you so gently, but touching you so roughly. His words were one thing, and his movements were another, and you bit your lip as Joseph shucked off his big wool coat and let it fall to the floor. “C’mere,” he mumbled and led you to the bed, laying you out and letting you feel the softness of the covers. You took some of it up in your fists and sighed softly, and Joseph’s hands went for your skirt, popping the button on the side and shucking it down your legs. 

You worked to take off your coat and blouse and, soon enough, you were left in your bra and panties. Joseph grinned as he looked down at you, his big hands sliding up and down your body to feel every inch of you, and you writhed as you tried to get his hands exactly where you wanted them. “Where do you want me?” Joseph asked softly. “Tell me, my darling, I’ll do anything you want me to.” 

“Want you everywhere,” you told him, pulling him back into a kiss. Your hands, although shaking, went to his butter-yellow shirt and started to unbutton it, only getting about halfway down his belly before he distracted you with kisses on your neck. “Fuck!” you gasped. “Joseph!” 

“That’s it, darling,” he whispered. “Call out my name, let everyone know who’s making you feel this way.” 

“Are you gonna fuck me?” you asked. 

“No, darling,” Joseph told you. “I’m going to make love to you. Show you exactly what I’ve been wanting all this time.” 

His kisses trailed down your body, his hands deftly ridding you of your bra before his lips attached to your pebbled nipple, sucking on it gently, just enough to make you whimper and moan. “Yes, yes,” Joseph whispered. His lips made messy kisses all over your tits, littering you with reverence, and he said, “Out with it, darling— you wanna say something, so say it.” 

“Nothing,” you lied. You did want to say something to him, you wanted to say a lot to him, but you couldn’t find the words to express what you were feeling. Your heart was racing and your palms felt sweaty, and you clutched his shoulder as he hungrily captured your lips. You moaned softly at him, anxiety and nerves overtaking you and forcing your silence, and Joseph broke the kiss to remove his glasses and shove them on the bedside table. 

“S’not nothing,” Joseph said firmly. “Something’s going on. Do you not want this?” 

“No!” you exclaimed. “I mean, yes! I mean— Fuck, I want this, I’ve wanted this for a long time, but—” 

“Fuck,” Joseph whispered. “I know we shouldn’t, I know it’s against the rules, but, darling, I just can’t—“ 

“No, no, Joey,” you said quickly, pressing your hands to his chest. He softened at the nickname, and you slowly started to unbutton his shirt. “Listen to me. I’m just… I’m not on birth control, and I’m fairly certain you didn’t bring any condoms to an academic conference.” 

“So I’ll pull out,” Joseph shrugged. 

“But I don’t want you to,” you told him. You looked him deep in his chocolate eyes, holding his chin in your hand, and you touched your forehead to his. “I want you to claim me. Make me your girl.” 

“Fuck, you can’t talk to me like that,” Joseph chuckled. “You’ll make me bust in my trousers.” 

“How long has it been for you?” you asked. 

“Honestly?” Joseph started. “A long time. Since I was your age.” 

“As if we have that big of an age gap,” you giggled. 

“But still,” Joseph said. “I wanna do right by you, and if pulling out is what happens—“ 

“But I don’t want that,” you told him firmly. “I want you to cum inside me. I need it.” 

“Jesus,” Joseph laughed. “You’re so sexy, did you know that?” 

“Says you,” you retaliated, and you grabbed a fistful of his curls and tugged him into a messy kiss, mouth open and tongues dancing. “God, Joey, you’re so fucking sexy, I’ve wanted you for so long.” 

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Joseph said. His hands joined yours in undressing him, and you kissed his freckles shoulders and chest as he became available to you. Nothing was enough, and you wrapped your legs right around his waist and kissed his neck. He wasn’t built, but you knew how strong he was, and you smiled into his mouth as his arms greedily wrapped around you and smoothed down your back. His chest was warm against your tits, and you whimpered as his hands fell from your back and went to his belt. 

There was really no going back now…

-

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[stardancerluv]

So excited for Gladiator 2! That said, after the trailer dropped I had to write something! 18+ will have mature themes throughout it, while trying to incorporate what I know of ancient Rome while writing a story.

Here it is!

What the Emperor Wants

Emperor Geta has recently acquired “reader” she is to do with as he pleases. What does that really mean? We are gonna learn what is to belong to Emperor Geta.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine (coming soon!)

[hopelesswrites]

Considering bringing this Joe in for Book Club part 3. Hes too scrumptious

[lovejosephquinn]

I apologise in advance 💀 my filthy, smutty brain cannot compute so I wrote it out into an imagine to make me feel better, news flash; I do not feel better 👀

Under 18's DNI.

Imagine Joe and reader in the club, he promised to be well behaved and that was until the 3 rounds of tequila shots. You're dancing with your friend whilst Joe watches you from the bar grabbing your next round, your particularly favourite song blasts through the speakers and you begin to shake your hips, hands in the air, screaming every lyric; to him nobody has ever looked sexier.

Joe can't help but move towards you heading straight behind you, brushing your hair over to one shoulder, clutching his fingers onto your waist and tilts forward to kiss your neck; hitting every sweet spot he can expertly find, his tongue lingering over your skin cells which erupt into goose bumps everywhere the muscle comes into contact with, his hips grinding into yours sporadically. You swerve round quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck giving him a partially flirtatious look.

"I thought I told you to be a good boy."

"I can't help it when you look like that." Joe grabs your hand taking you into a quiet hallway up the stairs; leaving your friends behind, the sign reads next to you Staff Only. It quite clearly could be a place you may be caught at anytime; the alcohol induced confidence makes you not give a fuck in the slightest.

The next thing you know, Joe cages you between him and the wall, crashing his lips and pushing his now bulging erection into you. "What would it take for me to take you into the toilet and let me have my way with you?"

You palm your hand onto his cock, rubbing harshly, hearing him groan into your ear. Giving him exactly what he wanted. Meanwhile his hand disappears up the bottom of your dress, pushing your panties to the side and sliding his fingers straight into your entrance, fucking your cunt two fingers deep, your walls clenching and your thighs giving way. Your almost public foreplay is dangerous yet so inconspicuous.

"Answer my question, pretty girl."

You challenged him. "Tell me what you want to do to me Joey."

Joe's free hand took you by the throat, wrapping the thickness of his fingers delicately around it, the veins in his fists flexing proudly.

"I'm going to pick you up, ram your panties in your mouth since you don't understand the meaning of silence when my cock stretches and fills your tight, wet little cunt so perfectly." The way you moaned just from his filthy words alone, he had you like putty in his hands literally.

"Then I'm going to fuck you so hard until you can't take anymore." His fingers curled up just at the end of the sentence, your hole gaped as he shoved a third finger inside.

"And just so you're aware, you aren't going anywhere until I fill you up and you're reminded who's cockhungry slut you are."

You gasped as he stretched his fingers out inside of you, you could've finished there and then. That was until he took them out, the smell of you filling the air as he pushed the three digits into your mouth, letting you sample your fluid. Pushing his mouth onto yours shortly after, dominating his tongue slipped in receiving your saliva and pussy juice that lingered, his breathy growl made you gasp.

"Face up to it, you're fucking ready for me right now love."

His malicious smile got you every time, the way his dimples exposed themselves and his eyes sparkle in the dimmed lighting, pupils dilated and cock practically throbbing beneath his clothing, leaking and aching to be encased where it belongs.

"Actions speak louder than words." You snarled, biting down onto your bottom lip, watching his eyes flutter down, he wasn't willing to hearing another word from you until he had your legs trembling, your panties were being pulled up and his cum was dribbling out your sodden and freshly fucked hole.

Joe got you in the stall within a matter of seconds, pushing your panties down to your feet, picking them up and sticking the soggy underwear into your mouth as promised, his trousers and boxers now down by his shoes, taking his thick member into his hand, jerking it for good measure and lifting you upward in one swift motion as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Jolting you down to practically sit on him, no adjustment needed your slippery walls inviting him straight in, his hips began to buck into you rampantly. Your teeth gripping to the material as muffled moans escaped you, the way his tip was pressing against you, his strong arms keeping you held in a perfect position meant he was able to fuck into you as hard as he wanted to. Joe bit down onto your shoulder, stifling his moans and leaving marks against it. Your hands snatched at his curls, tugging them sharply, his mouth moved back to your neck, bruising you and marking his territory, not that he needed to, it was clear who you belonged to.

His thrusts became sloppy when your walls clenched against him, he could feel the way your cunt twitched around him, leaking your sodden mess and dripping out onto his balls whilst you rode through your orgasm. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your soul left your body for that moment, it could almost be seen above watching the two of you at it like a pair of caged animals.

"Yes you fucking whore, take my cock, god- I-"

Joe couldn't give anymore, he bounced your hips to hit as deep as he could get, one last thrust saw him burst inside your already messy space. You both groaned at the way his seed spurt out inside of you, milking every last drop whilst he lingered inside of you, his body spasming through his sensitive climax.

Taking your panties out of your mouth, Joe's smirk returned and he pushed his lips back to yours, kissing you so passionately, the way you fell breathless into each others mouths, the stench of sex in the air, the way you both looked fucked out.

"You'll be the death of me, my love." He sighed, gaining his regular oxygen flow.

"Hey, you started it." You giggled.

"And I finished it too, like the 'good boy' I am." Joe winked at you playfully, releasing himself and slowly putting you down to the ground.

"Oh yeah? Such a good boy."