#Joseph Quinn Fanfics

[justmeinadaze]

3, 2, 1... (Eric from AQPD1 & You)

A/N: Some people asked if I was going to write for Eric and its about time I do something for one of Joe's other characters. Please enjoy this treat I bear you! <3

Warnings: Eric from A Quiet Place: Day One and Fem Y/N, SMUT, very loving, FLUFF, established relationship, ANGST, obviously apocalypse, anxiety and PTSD mentioned, nothing too drastic (but I can make a part 2 that's more angsty if you want 😈 )

Word Count: 3240

Donate to me :)

You missed so many things since the world went quiet. 

You missed the bustle of students arriving on campus for class at the law school you attended. You missed the sound of the music playing at the café where you studied for exams or case notes for your internship. You missed watching movies at the drive in you took your boyfriend to on the rural side of New York and the way his eyes lit up at the sights around him. The way he would laugh with a loud “HA!” that had you giggling at the noise. 

But more than anything… you missed the sound of Eric’s voice. 

The way he would excitedly tell his parents about his day at school over the phone or when he would answer a question the professor asked with a little nervous stutter afraid to get the answer the wrong. The anxious little flutter of his lips when he would tell you that you were beautiful before blushing even though you two had already been together for over a year. You missed the soft way he would whisper to you in bed every morning as he tenderly pet your head and kissed your face. 

Hell, you even missed the shouting matches during a fight when he would scream about something that hardly matters now before a few hours later sliding into your bedroom so you two could talk it out. 

Now neither of you said a word as you roamed the streets of the city looking for supplies and a safe place to stay. 

Ironically, last night you found a library to rest in and woke up early to read one of the books you found on a shelf nearby. It took you a moment to realize Eric was watching you and when you did you beamed his way as he quietly stretched and rubbed his eyes. 

Nodding his head your way towards the book in your hand, you flashed him the cover.

“Sign Language for Beginners.”

Your boyfriend smiled wide as he reached for the whiteboard beside him you two had been using to communicate. 

“What have you learned so far?”

As you slowly sign with your hands, he watches you carefully as you mouth along with the movements while spelling out your name. Without his palms touching, he claps seemingly impressed with your new skills. After grabbing your own whiteboard from your backpack, you scoot closer to him till your knees are touching as your cross your legs. 

“Want to see another thing I learned?”

When he nods, you take his hand in yours, maneuvering his fingers till they’re the way you want, and your eyes meet his as you silently mouth what it means. 

“I love you.”

A gentle smile paints his lips as his other palm cups your cheek and brings your mouth to his own. Matching your fingers to his, you press them together as he mouths his love for you in return.  

After eating and getting your things together, hand in hand you moved about the city. Pharmacies were something you insisted you two always go into because not only did it have medication you may need down the line but it had supplies like batteries, everyday essentials, and water. 

Eric most of the time just followed your lead but occasionally he would slip away when he found something he thought would make you smile. One day while exploring, he tapped your shoulder and bowed before handing you a rose that had you grinning. Another day, he found some of your favorite chocolates that you loved, immediately devouring it as he silently laughed at your eagerness. 

Normally when he detached from you, he didn’t go far but when you turned to leave the area he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Your instinct was to shout his name but you couldn’t. Fear flooded your body as you panickily looked around for any sign of him and finding nothing. 

Your brain began to shut down as tears fell down your cheeks and you collapsed to your knees. Your chest was hyperventilating at the notion of being alone in this chaos…being alone in a world where Eric didn’t exist… 

As you heavily inhaled, a palm covered your mouth and you opened your wide eyes to meet your boyfriend’s equally terrified gaze.

You were so overjoyed to see him but your internal panic was still on overdrive. That’s one thing you and Eric had in common. You had PTSD from certain events in your life that only he knew about that left you debellated sometimes. Eric had massive anxiety that was exacerbated after he moved down here from London to attend law school. You both hated being alone and depended on each other at times when things got bad enough. 

Placing his finger over his mouth in a shushing motion, he carefully dug into his bag and pulled out a little prescription bottle, handing you a tiny pill and some water that you eagerly accepted. Miming with his hands, he signaled for you to slow your breathing and when you were finally calm enough to focus he hugged you tightly to his chest. 

#################

Even as you clung to his arm, he could tell you were still fuming. You two had learned a while ago that you could make noise under other sounds like rain and running water so unbeknownst to you, Eric took a detour to a building you two had been a couple of times on dates before the end of the world. 

Gently opening the door, he guided you in and as soon as you entered you heard the sound of water falling. Glancing around, you noticed he had taken you to a greenhouse as the strong smell of flowers hit your nose. 

After taking a quick look around, he brought you to the waterfall fountain that was in the middle of the room under a glass dome illuminating the sky above. His doe eyes followed you as you took a seat beside the falls and stared at the ripples that flowed. 

As he sat beside you, it took him a moment before he finally spoke. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”, he whispered. 

Your glassy eyes met his but instead of verbally replying, you hand loudly smacked his arm. You continued to hit his bicep as the tears fell and he allowed it knowing he fucked up. 

“We’re supposed to tell each other where we go!”, you murmur heatedly. “What was so important that you had to have it now and scare me half to death?”

Digging into his backpack, he produced a little blue box and opened it for you displaying a beautiful silver, diamond stud engagement ring that had your eye lids flutter at the sight. 

“Before all this bullshit, I had begun saving to buy you something like this… I should have started saving sooner.”, Eric shrugged as he shifted his gaze away from yours. “I don’t know why I even risked scarring you to get this. I don’t think there are any priests or anything. Plus, you deserve a white dress and—”

When he turned back to focus on you again he was met with your lips. 

“I love you, you idiot.”

He smiles wide as he pulls you into his embrace and kisses your forehead. 

***

A couple of hours later, Eric awoke to your hand gently jostling his arm. Prepared for the worst, his eyes anxiously glanced from left to right looking for the threat before landing on your beautiful face in front of him. 

Standing to your full height, you showed off the white sundress you found when you snuck to the clothing store beside the building you two were in. As you tilted your head at an angle, you gestured towards the veil that was held in place by a headband. Utilizing the water in the greenhouse, you had washed your face and put on some make up you found as well illuminating all your best features that he loved so much. 

Since you were a bit further away from the fountain than before, Eric lifted his whiteboard, scrolling across it before displaying a message. 

“You look gorgeous.”

Falling to your knees, you took the marker from his grasp and he waits as you write your reply. 

“Thank you. I got you something to.”

His chocolate eyes follow your finger as you point towards a suit on a chair nearby.

Excitedly, he jumps up and hastily begins removing his clothes making you silently laugh at his earnest energy. The outfit was a bit too big on him but you didn’t care. To you, he looked absolutely perfect.

Placing himself in front of you, his amused irises watch with anticipation as he waits for you to show him what you’re writing. 

“Family and friends, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Eric and Y/N…blah blah blah.”

The man’s smile widens as you smile back, erasing what you put and continuing your ceremony. 

“Eric, I have loved you since the moment I saw you shyly answer Professor Flick’s question in our ethics class. You were always a bit nervous but your heart was always so big. You were the sweetest person I had ever met. Even before the end of the world, I felt safe with you and I hope you know that your body and your heart are safe with me. I love you.”

As he read your vows, a tear left his eye before he leaned towards you to kiss your lips and take back his board. As he wrote, you imagined what it would have been like to have a real wedding. His parents would have wanted him to go back to Kent to have a massive sized ceremony there. Eric told you his parents always had high expectations especially coming out of “high society”. They would have invited a ton of people their son didn’t know and most likely not even consult with you about the arrangements and wedding itself. 

Your parents hadn’t been in your life in a long while and since then you always avoided thoughts like who would walk you down the aisle or who would you have in your family section. You didn’t have a lot of money nor come from any so you wouldn’t be able to have a big wedding or even a tiny wedding with friends especially not here in New York where everything cost a fortune. 

You imagined it would have most likely been a stressful situation for you both and you didn’t want that; not only for you but for the man you loved. It would be his day to and he deserved to look as happy as he did now as he turned the whiteboard to face you. 

“Y/N, I remember that day when you offered to study with me so I wouldn’t feel so nervous. I couldn’t understand why a beautiful woman like you was offering to help a dork like me. The first time I heard you laugh I knew I wanted to marry you. I miss the sound… but I love that you’re still here with me and marrying me. I promise I’ll ALWAYS keep you safe, baby. I love you to.”

Beaming up at him, you kiss his lips as his hand cups your face and his thumb wipes away the one tear that had escaped down your cheek.

After taking the board back, you hand him the blue box with the rings and hastily scroll on the board. 

“Do you Eric take Y/N as your wife to have and to hold for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, and other things I can’t remember, till death do us part?”

Tenderly smiling, he takes out the diamond ring and places it on your finger as he leans forward till his lips are right by the shell of your ear. 

“I do.”, he whispers so softly that a tingle runs through your body, biting your bottom lip as he kisses your cheek before playfully tugging the board from your grasp. 

Replacing the names, he flips it your way and you retrieve the gold wedding band and place it on his finger as you tilt up on your toes to reach his ear. 

“I do.”

You don’t bother taking the board back as he scribbles something quickly down, flashing it your way when he finishes. 

“By the power vested in me by the end of the world, I now pronounce us husband and wife and now I’m gonna kiss my bride.”

You stifle your giggles into his lips as they crash to your own and he lifts you off your feet into his strong arms. 

#####################

Eric continues to sneak love filled glances your way as you both share the cake you had found in a bakery within the building. Jerking your head his way, you nod, silently asking what’s running through his mind. 

Smiling, his pointer finger touches your chest followed by the rest of them swishing around his face, mouthing along as he signs. 

“You are beautiful.”

Quietly laughing, you find your whiteboard and scribble across it with your marker. 

“Have you been looking at my book?”

“Maybe.”, he writes back. 

After placing his fingers on his chin, he brings them down before gesturing at the area around you both.

“Thank you for this.”

The sound of thunder makes you both jump before silently exhaling as you lean your head on his shoulder and hug his arm that had promptly shot out to protect you. Images of dates to movie theaters where you would squeak and cling to him as something scary popped out on screen filled your mind. The warm fuzzy feeling it gave you when his palm would grip your thigh as if to say, “I got you.” Before his gorgeous eyes would glance down at you like they were now. 

Placing your palm over the back of his, you guided his fingertips along your thighs taking part of your dress up with it before disappearing under the fabric. Eric shifted his body closer to yours as his lips softly kissed your temple and trailed down to your cheek. Biting your lip, you stifled your moan as his fingers moved the cotton blocking your core to the side and effortlessly glided through your folds to slowly massage your clit.

It had been so long since you were able to be intimate with each other with the fear of death always looming in your minds but when heavy rain loudly tapped against the glass above you, your eyes rolled back as your mouths connected and all you could think about was the man you loved. 

Eric panted against your tongue as your palm rubbed against the growing bulge in his slacks and you groaned in response when in return two of his thick fingers slid into your heat. 

“Eric.”

“Fuck—I missed the way you moaned my name.”, he whispered as he thrust his digits into you at a steady pace, slowing only for a moment when you hastily unbutton his pants to pull out his cock. His big, lust filled eyes watch as you run your tongue along your hand and wrap it around him, mewling as you begin to stroke his length. “Feels so fucking good, baby. I h-hope this rain lasts because I don’t wa-want to hold back too much on our wedding night.”

A pant mixes in with your low laugh as he smiles against your lips at his comment. His kisses travel to your neck and your pussy tightens around his fingers as he pumps into you, tapping into that sweet spot inside you that only he has ever been able to reach. 

Thunder bangs above you both as your climax washes over you and you moan as your free hand grasps desperately at his button up shirt, trying to pull him as close to you as you can. 

“Fuck…please, Eric… I need you…”

Quickly moving away from you, he reaches for his suit jacket and places it behind you as you peel off your panties. With his hand on your lower back, he guides you on top of the fabric and after positioning his body on yours, you help push his pants further down till their resting just under his ass. 

As you craned your neck to watch between your bodies, his humid breath fanned your face as he gradually guided his cock into your entrance. 

“Oh my Gooooood, Y/N, baby.”

Eric’s head fell into the nook between your neck and shoulder as he did little thrusts to allow you both time to absorb the feeling of each other again as he stretched you open and your fingers threaded through his hair as your legs circled around his waist. 

Through the glass above you saw the lightening flash brightly almost blinding you as you began to count. 

“3, 2, 1.”

Eric stilled for a moment as he listened to you whisper before thunder shook the building surrounding you. His palm slid down your side to your hip, holding you as his maneuvered his waist till just his tip was inside you.

“3, 2, 1…”

As soon as the thunder clapped, his hips snapped into yours pushing his cock deep inside you causing a loud moan to leave your lips matching the sound of the rumbles in the sky. You both worked in tandem as you watched the lightening and counted as he waited for the thunder so you could scream as loud as you needed to. 

Even he knew though that storms wouldn’t last forever and he desperately wanted to hear you come undone. Pushing up onto his forearms, he pounded into you as his eyes remained locked with yours.

He didn’t need to say anything…. You knew what he wanted without saying a word. 

After nodding your head, his forehead leans against your sweaty one and you cling to his shoulders as you wait, fending off your orgasm as best you can until you finally see the flash of light. Eric takes note of it as well as it reflects off the floor around you but he waits for your count.

“E-Eric…3…2-2…1.”

The thunder crashes so loud it was as if mother nature was on your side as you scream his name again and the coil snaps as you cum. A loud grunt mixes with your shout of pleasure before Eric pulls his cock out of your quivering cunt and strokes his hand quickly along his shaft, milking his release as it lands on your thigh. 

Grabbing the napkins from the bag nearby, he cleans you both and collapses at your side. Rolling to face him, your husband reaches over to move your hair behind your ear. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, are you?”, you whisper back.

“Yeah.”, he murmurs as he listens to the rain begin to lighten outside. Extending his arm for you to use as a pillow, you smile as you move closer to him and his utilizes his other arm to rest his on your side. “I love you, Y/N.”

It was so low he didn’t think you heard him but when your own palm landed on his lower back and your nose grazed his, he melted into you when he heard your equally quiet, “I love you to, Eric.”

[sweetprfct]

Yes Forever

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joe has been giving hints and it's making your heart explode every time.

Author's Note: The bridge of TTPD is to blame for this. Enjoy! :)

Wordcount: 1.9K

You knew you should have seen it coming.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t making it obvious these last few weeks. It wasn’t like his little actions were something he has been hiding. You should have seen it coming, but you didn’t want to expect anything. You didn’t want to hope just in case you were wrong, you know? You didn’t want to feel disappointed if it was just your mind making things up. 

It started off at the night of his movie premiere. You were all dressed up, and Joe couldn’t get his eyes off of you. Though, that wasn’t the thing that stuck out the whole night because Joe always looked at you like that no matter what. He was always telling you how stunning you were and that he was so lucky. The movie premiere went smoothly. You joined him at the red carpet and everyone was so proud about the movie and then, the after party came. You didn’t know if it was Joe having way too many drinks, or your mind was just being delusional. 

You sat next to him in the booth. Joe and his co-stars were laughing talking about a memory from the set, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander somewhere else. It wasn’t like you were bored with their conversations or anything. You were actually enjoying yourself, but it was Joe’s soft touch on your hand under the table that was distracting you so much. 

“You know you should watch out for Joe.” One of his co-stars told you. “I would run off if I still had the chance.” He teased. 

You laughed softly, shaking your head as Joe wrapped an arm around you. His hand softly caressing your arm and his other hand… well… 

It was doing something that was making your heart race. 

Your hand was set on his lap and his index finger was grazing over your bare ring finger. You couldn’t help but purse your lips as you tried to keep your attention on the conversation in front of you. Joe kept that going for the rest of the night, and he didn’t say one word about it when you got home. So, you let the subject go. 

Then, you noticed one night when you were slowly falling asleep on the bed that Joe was just smiling and staring at you. His fingers caressing your soft cheek, while you were fighting hard to keep your eyes open. 

“Hmm…” You smiled, letting out a soft hum. 

“So beautiful.” Joe whispered, kissing your hair. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Joe.” You smiled, moving closer to him. 

You rested your head on his chest, your fingers finding his as you played with them. Joe then intertwined his fingers with yours and brought your hand on his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the back of your hand. 

“You have no idea how much you occupy my heart.” Joe said. “It’s all yours, darling. All of it.”

“I love you so much.” You smiled, pressing your face on his neck.

Joe held you tighter in his arms as comfortable silence blanketed the room for a moment. You two never really talked about the subject of it, but you knew there was that mutual understanding between the two of you. You just knew. You both really didn’t have to talk about it because what was there to talk about, right? You both already knew where this was heading. 

“You know, there was no other woman I felt this way about.” Joe murmured. “When I first saw you, I knew in my heart that it was you. You’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

You hitched a breath as Joe grazed his fingers over your bare ring finger again. You kept your eyes close, face still pressed on his neck. You didn’t know if you could look into his eyes right now. With the words he was speaking, your heart was beating hard out of your chest that you swore he could hear and feel it. 

“Darling?” Joe moved back a little, gazing down at you. 

You kept your eyes shut and stayed still. Joe’s fingers grazed over your cheek again, his lips tugging into a small smile. 

“You’re the love of my life, you know that?” Joe whispered as you fluttered your eyes open. 

You smiled at Joe, glancing up at him and said, “What’s going on, Joe?”

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ve noticed it lately…” You tilted your head at him. 

Joe raised his brow, pretending like he didn’t know what you were talking about. 

“Notice what?”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “Nevermind.”

Joe reeled you back in his arms, kissing your hair softly. “I just want you to know how much I love you.”

You nodded your head, smiling softly as you set your head back on his chest. You didn’t want to say it first if he couldn’t admit it because you didn’t want to look stupid. Maybe you really were being delusional in the first place. Maybe Joe really was just being sweet and wanted to reassure you of his love. 

That was all. 

You finally let that subject go for a few weeks. It didn’t appear in your thoughts again until that one night when Joe had taken you out for a date night. He had suggested taking you into a nice restaurant since it had been a while since you both had gone out on a date. So, you agreed. You dressed up in a nice pale blue silky dress, and Joe was in a nice button up and trousers. You couldn’t help but run your fingers through his curls the moment you saw him waiting for you by the front door.

Joe hummed approvingly as he set his hands on your hips, pressing your body against his. 

“God, I can never get over how stunning you are.” Joe whispered, kissing down your neck. 

“And I can never get over how handsome you are.” You smiled, feeling his hands gently run down your sides. 

Joe gazed down at you, his eyes sparkling before leaning down to kiss you passionately. Leading you out the door, Joe had taken you to the restaurant that he chose, and it was nice and cozy. You couldn’t help but enjoy this moment with him. It really had been a while since you two had spent time together, especially with both of your busy schedules. 

“I’ve missed this.” You smiled, taking a sip of your wine.

“Me too.” Joe took your hands in his from across the table. “Sorry if I have been so busy, darling.”

“Joe,” You tilted your head at him. “I understand. You don’t have to apologize.”

“I know, but still…” Joe took a deep breath, playing with your fingers. “I want to apologize and want you to know that I love you.”

Squeezing his hand lightly, you gave Joe a warm reassuring smile. “Joe, I know. I love you too.”

Joe smiled slightly, looking down at your fingers. He played with the ring that you had on your middle finger for a moment before slipping it off. You watched as he slid it over to your ring finger and for a moment, you felt your lungs stopped working. You felt your heart almost exploding as Joe smiled slightly before slipping the ring back on your middle finger again. 

“Joe–” You whispered.

“Good evening, I’m Elle. I’ll be your server this evening.” The server stood by your table, giving both of you a genuine smile.

You pulled your hands away from Joe, your index finger and thumb playing with your ring anxiously under the table. Suddenly, the thoughts that you had pushed away from the last few weeks appeared in your mind again. You bit your lower lip, trying to focus your attention back on Joe and the server. You could feel your heart beat a thousand miles per minute, and you didn’t know how to really react with what just happened.

The rest of the night, you tried to keep your thoughts to yourself. You told your mind to be quiet and just enjoy this dinner date with Joe, especially that it had been so long since you both have done this. Joe never mentioned it once during the whole dinner. He acted like nothing happened and what he did was just a normal thing. However, your heart couldn’t fit in your chest anymore. No matter how much you tried to push the thought away, you kept repeating that little scene he did before dinner. 

“Hold on a second, darling.” Joe held your hand before you could open your front door later that evening. 

“What is it?” You turned to face him as he cupped both of your cheeks between his hands.

“I just want to do this.” Joe leaned down to kiss you softly on the lips. 

You chuckled softly, kissing him deeper and pulling him close to you. You wrapped your arms around his neck as Joe continued to kiss you, this time so lovingly and gentle. 

“I love you.” He murmured through the kiss.

You let out a soft hum as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Marry me.” Joe murmured through the kiss. 

You froze for a moment, parting from the kiss as you stared at him with wide eyes. Joe, however, gave you a look that was all so loving. His chocolate button eyes twinkled as he caressed your cheek with his thumb. 

“W…What?” Your words stuttered as you processed what you just heard. 

Joe didn’t say anything as he walked around you and unlocked the front door. He turned to face you again, held out his hand and opened the front door of your flat. You gasped softly as soon as you saw what was behind him. The place was lit by candles and rose petals were laid out all over the floor. 

It was like what you saw in the movies. 

“My love.” Joe took your hand in his as you both entered the flat. 

You swallowed every emotion that was coming up in your throat as you watched Joe’s hand reach for his pocket. Then, he gazed up at you, holding a small red box in his hand, and a smile tugging on his lips as he got down on one knee in front of you.

“Joe, I–” 

“Darling, you knew that the first time I saw you, I knew that you were the one. You make me a better person everyday, and I love you so much. My heart is yours forever. Would you do me the honor to spend the rest of your life with me?”

You gasped softly, both your hands covering your mouth as tears welled up in your eyes. Your heart was racing, and you could barely find words in your mind. 

“Will you marry me?” 

“Yes.” You smiled as you helped Joe get up from the floor. “A thousand times yes. Yes to forever with you. Yes to everything with you.”

Joe grinned happily as he took the ring from the box and slid it on your ring finger before reeling you into his arms and kissed you passionately. Everything almost felt unreal as you kissed him back. 

“I love you.” You murmured, smiling happily.

You have never felt this happy before. Your heart was exploding in happiness as Joe kissed you again and held you in his arms. A big wide grin on his face, tears welling up in his eyes the moment he parted from the kiss.  

“I love you.” Joe whispered, embracing you. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you stared into his eyes, happiness radiating from the both of you. 

With Joe, it was always going to be yes. 

Forever.

The End.

**********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @browneyes8288 @bylermaxmayfield @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf

[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?😬

[metal-redcherries]

Just finished watching a quiet place... and did a wet pathetic male wife with anxiety guy made me cry at the end of the movie? Yes... yes he did...

He just proved everybody the talent that he's got, and I'm so proud of him

[honey-flustered]

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Share 3 WIPs You’re Working On… ♥

Thank You @mediocredreams for tagging me!! You’re an absolutely talented writer 😘

These are works I’m vigorously working on at the moment but I’ve got so much more requests and WIPs I’m working on but for now my focus is mainly on these 3.

All works are MDNI+18 and contain SMUT.

1. Along For The Ride 2

🌟Top Priority

Older!Beefy!Farmer!Eddie Munson x Bratty!Rich!Reader

Summary: After the kiss incident, you and Eddie discuss the boundaries of your friendship. Which is fine except neither of you are very good at following rules…not even when your father’s on the other side of the door.

2. I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

Virgin!Incel!Gross!Eddie Munson x Older!Fem!Dom!Reader

Summary: Worried about the future of his dear nephew, Wayne Munson hires you to change Eddie’s life around and convince him to either go to college or pursue his dreams (inspired by the movie “No Hard Feelings” and titles after Taylor Swift song).

3. You Don’t Love Me Anymore?

Mindflayed!Yandere!Bf!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’ve always had such terrible timing with delivering bad news. This time being no different considering you’ll be dumping Thee Steve Harrington on your 6 month anniversary vacation. And you’d cut to the chase, if it weren’t for the strange way Steve’s been acting ever since his late night swim. (Monsterfucking fic 🤭)

No pressure tags: @myspacebrat , @usetheeauthor (tagging my other blog :P), @munsonbee (can’t tag but love to hear what you’ve got, @natti-ice , @munsonsmixtapes , @munsonhoneybaby

And anyone else who would like to share their WIPs please feel free to do! 😊

[fairymermaid7]

Kings of the Fall: Tales of Crowned Hearts

Here is the first Chapter of the story written by myself, @jessbahia and @mythicalea. We hope you enjoy it!!

Chapter 1

She was hopeless; and at the same time, she had nothing to lose. She kept running and running, as fast as she could, the sun had started to go down now but she wouldn’t stop. She just had to run as fast as she could, even though now she was breathless and exhausted. It was very dark when she decided to stop for a while and sit under a tree, only because she could not see where she was going anymore. The moment she sat down and rested her head on the trunk of the tree everything started coming back to her; him. His hands all over her, his hideous breath on her face, his disgusting mouth on her skin. And that was the man her father insisted that she would marry.

“Never…never!!” she mumbled angrily. She was never going to allow this to happen…she would go as far as needed, she would never, ever let that horrible man lay eyes on her again, ever…

But…what if…what if he followed her? She was sure he had sent his men after her, but after all those hours she was hoping they would have lost her. She knew those forests like the back of her hand, she would have known if someone had been following her…or would she??

She kept having those thoughts, sitting on the ground, her dress torn and dirty, resting her head on the tree trunk. One more minute…one more minute and she would start again. But now it was very dark, she could barely see past her own hand. But she couldn’t stay there. They might be approaching..they might find me…

“Don’t resist me Samantha…I know you want it too…”

“NO!!!” She woke up from her own scream, realising where she was. It was still dark, but the greyish colour of the fog and the sunrise that was approaching was already covering the atmosphere. And it was very cold.

She had fallen asleep, therefore lost valuable time; she had to leave at once. But now, moments before she could stand up, she heard voices. Men’s voices, not far away from her.

“Oh no” was the only thing she managed to whisper through gritted teeth. She had to leave before the sun rose more; she stood up quickly, hiding behind the tree trunk, slowly peeking to see two men walking towards her. They hadn’t seen her yet, but she couldn’t stay there. Could she run? They would immediately spot her. She peeked once more to see that the men had stopped. And she noticed- those weren’t his men. She squinted her eyes to see more clearly through the morning fog. Yes, she was sure; but…who could those men be? They couldn’t be his hunters, because she knew he always sent them towards the opposite side of the forest. Could she have run so far in half a day that she had already found herself out of the borders of his land?

She could not afford to lose any more time. The men started walking towards her direction again, and she knew she had to disappear. She took two steps towards the high bushes on her right and hoped they had not heard. The men stopped talking once more, and looked towards her.

“Did you hear that mate?” “It’s probably just a rabbit or something, let us just…” “No” the first man grabbed the other one’s arm, looking closer. “Those were much heavier footsteps than a rabbit’s”.

The man had a strong Scottish accent, and his voice sounded a little familiar to Samantha; but he was not one of his men, she was sure of that.

Two minutes passed, and Samantha was still hiding inside the bushes, holding her breath. “I am telling ya mate, there is nothing to worry about-” “His Majesty wants us to be extra careful these days, remember?” “Yes but..” “Shh…” the Scottish man raised his hand to stop the other one mid-sentence. “Let’s just check the bushes” he said and walked straight towards Samantha. Her heart started pounding inside her chest, she had to stop them, she had to distract them somehow… But alas, it was too late now; in two seconds they would be in breathing distance from her, they would find her and send her back to that atrocious-

“Hey!!”

Samantha opened her eyes, ready to attack whomever it was that was about to touch her. But to her surprise, the voice was coming from behind the men. They both stopped in their tracks and turned around. A man wearing similar garments to theirs was slowly riding on a horse, approaching them. “Good heavens, what are you two doing here? And without your horses? King Joseph was very clear when he ordered you to…”

The man on the horse kept speaking, but Samantha was not listening anymore; 

King Joseph?

Had she heard that name before? Why did it sound so familiar?

She had guessed correctly after all, she had left his grounds and had now set foot on that King Joseph’s premises…but still. She still had to run away. She did not know where she would go, but she certainly was not going to stay here. She had to keep running, as fast and as far as she could…

The two men were still talking to the man on the horse. It was now the perfect opportunity. She measured the distance with her eyes, and, taking a deep breath, she crawled towards the opposite direction from where the men were, holding her breath, trying to be as silent as possible. She dragged her body on the ground, going as far as she could before the bushes area ended. Now she could not hide any more; she had to stand up. And run really, really fast. She could hear the men were still talking. She took a deep breath, she braced herself and slowly stood up, her torso bent and leaning towards the ground as much as she could. She gave a look behind her shoulder and took off. It was now or never. She ran- really, really fast, she could not remember herself running so fast before, even as a child, when she was playing hide and seek with her beloved Madeleine. 

She was now leaving the men’s voices behind, when suddenly, one of the voices was raised. Did they see her? She would not risk turning around to check, so she just tried to run faster. The branches were now almost tearing her dress apart and the mud was making it more and more difficult- but she just would not stop.

The voices came closer.

Yes.

They had indeed seen her.

She could now hear their fast steps approaching. She was faster, but how much more could she bear? She had started getting tired, she was panting, she could hear her heart thumping in her ears…and their voices approaching.

“Stop right there!” “If you do not stop right now you will be arrested, lady!” “Lord, she is fast!” “Stop talking and run mate!!”

They were approaching. More and more. She could feel her powers abandon her, she was trying so hard but her body was slowly betraying her. And then she made the fatal mistake. While still running, she turned around. Realising how close they were, did not help at all. On the contrary, she lost her concentration, involuntarily slowing down, and, losing her balance, she tripped on a big rock and fell on the ground.

………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“We found her hiding in the bushes on the East side of the Big Forest, Your Majesty.” “She was running really fast, we almost-” “Hush.”

A strong, deep voice rang in her ears. Her eyes were closed, and as she could realise, she was being held by two pairs of arms. She was feeling very weak, sick, and would almost faint again, but instead, she braced herself once more and opened her eyes.

“Well well well….” the tall figure in front of her spoke again. She blinked once or twice, to get used to the light from what she reckoned were candles. She looked around her, squinting. “To what do we owe the pleasure Miss….” the tall figure spoke again, and she looked up to meet his eyes. Big, brown, beautiful eyes, on a gorgeous face. She almost gasped at his handsomeness, but would never show how taken aback she was. He was smirking softly, caressing his beard, his long hair tied in braids towards the back of his neck. She kept looking straight into his eyes, but didn’t speak; in slow motion, she saw his hand reach out and put a strand of hair behind her ear. As soon as his fingertips touched her skin, it was like electricity hit her. She turned her head on the other side fast, as if she was bitten by a snake. “Uh uh uh…” he raised an eyebrow, smirking again. She was now looking down, and in seconds she felt his fingers underneath her chin. “I asked you a quest-” In a fast movement, she pulled her body away, as much as she could since his men were holding her, and spat on his face. “Don’t you ever touch me again!” she screamed at him furiously, as his men held her tighter. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow again. He wiped his face and approached her once more, his eyes not leaving hers. He was now grinning. “To the dungeons” he ordered, his deep, strong voice thundering through the walls of the chambers.

[exilynn]

I love write things, Eddie is so boyfriend material here

I hope this reaches someone who needs it, just as I hope Echoes Nocteris helps you in some sensitive part of your soul 💙🩵

[borhapparker]

character sleepover weekend!

hi y'all! i made a poll yesterday (friday) and lasted till saturday to see which character i will be receiving requests for in this sleepover weekend and joseph quinn/eddie munson won the poll! so that means, all requests made/written/received will be about either the actor joseph quinn or the character eddie munson! here are some prompts and/or songs if you wanna pick or you can send in anything you'd like! let's get started!! (:

character sleepover weekend!

prompts:

"what the hell is wrong with you?"

"you think it's okay to speak to me like that?"

"this will be your only warning, get away from me."

"you better get the fuck out of my face."

"you're such an asshole, i don't even know why i like you."

"why do you make loving you so damn hard?"

"i have a really bad feeling about this."

"do you think this is it? the end?"

"do you even love me anymore?"

"you really think i have a choice?"

"i'm not giving up on you, i'm not giving up on us."

"if you're hurt, you can tell me. i don't mind carrying you, honest."

"don't look at them, look at me. you're okay, stay in this moment with me."

"i said no! you're hurt, just for ONCE do what i ask."

"i hate knowing you're hurt and there's nothing i can do."

"you're telling me to calm down? you're the one who's shot!"

"please, just let me help you."

"stay with me, just stay with me."

"are you dumb?"

"have you been drugged?" "i don't do drugs.. it's only marijuana."

"please don't tell my mom, she will throw a shoe."

"how about we just spend the day in bed?"

"look at me, sweetheart!"

specific prompts/moments:

first family christmas

high school graduation

getting suspended together from school

unexpected pregnancy/older or younger

high school reunion

wedding/attending ex's wedding

au's:

college students/roommates

angels vs demons

post-apocalypse

hospital (one is patient, other is doctor/nurse)

royalty (one is royal/stable worker)

rock band/battle of the bands

superheroes/superpowers (much like marvel universe)

vampire (one is a vamp/human)

arranged marriage (used to change the other)

spies/assassins (one is the other/target)

coffee shop (one works/regular customer)

teachers (both working together/nearby)

soulmates (in various ways: colors, tattoos, imprints, necklaces with heat, time clock on wrist, etc)

taglist: @pbnjparker @madmadmilk @hollandroos @spiderboytotherescue @logangarfield @forever-rogue @tomsholland @eddiemunsvns @aloneinthehellfire @shutyourmoustache @strangermarvelss

[sweetprfct]

Strawberry Frosting

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Waking up from your nap, you found your husband Joe and your daughter, Rosie baking sugar cookies.

Author's Note: Okay, thanks a lot @ceriseheaven for talking about more girldad!Joe . I'm gonna be making more after this. Forgive me I'm still learning how to write fics with kids in it since it's not really my cup of tea most of the time. I hope you enjoy!

Wordcount: 1.9K

The sound of the mixer whirring in the late afternoon was what woke you up from your nap. You had decided to leave your little girl with your loving husband as you took a nap and relaxed for a while. You have spent your Saturday morning cleaning around the house and catching up on chores that you kept putting off during the week. Now, your back was hurting, you had a throbbing headache, and you needed some peace and quiet even just for an hour. 

Waking up at 4pm and seeing your husband covered in strawberry frosting was the last thing you expected to see. Getting up from your bed and making your way down the stairs, you paused in your tracks when you heard laughter and giggles echoing from the kitchen. You leaned against the doorframe and watched Joe turn the mixer on. 

The kitchen counters were covered in flour, drops of different liquid ingredients and dirty bowls and spoons. Your 3 year old daughter, Rosie, was sitting on the counter top, watching her father try his best to bake her some sugar cookies. It was moments like these that made you want this world to stop and just watch this moment over and over again. 

Rosie had always been a daddy’s girl, and you couldn't honestly blame her for being one. Joe loved to spoil her even before she was born. When you were pregnant, Joe would buy just about anything he could find at the store. 

“Don’t you think she would love this?” He picked up a stuffed pink bear, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Joe, didn’t you already get her a teddy bear?” 

“Yes, but this one is pink!” Joe argued. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle as Joe shrugged and placed the pink bear in the cart. He didn’t care if he already bought her the same one in a different color. If he thought she would love it, he would get it. 

The moment Rosie was born, you could instantly see her resemblance to Joe. Her big brown eyes and as she grew older, her hair was curly just like her father’s. He was his mini copy as what you would always say. Joe always had been such a good father. Even with his busy schedule, he refused to miss the big moments with you and Rosie. He would drop everything in an instant for the both of you, and you didn’t even know you could love him even more. 

“Mum!” Rosie exclaimed, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

You shifted your eyes at Rosie, who was pointing at you, her shirt and face covered in frosting.

“Hey, darling.” Joe smiled. “You’re awake. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you.” You grinned happily, making your way towards the kitchen counter.

You watched as Rosie reached her arms towards you. You chuckled softly, grabbing the kitchen towel to wipe her face from all the frosting. You have no idea what they have been doing, but they definitely made a mess in the kitchen.

“Oh my goodness!” You laughed softly, taking Rosie in your arms. “I think someone has been eating too much frosting.”

“We made sugar cookies.” Rosie smiled, pointing at the freshly baked cookies on the tray. 

“I see that. You and Daddy made it from scratch?” 

Rosie nodded her head, her brown curls bouncing. You smiled and shifted your eyes at Joe. He was still playing with the mixer as he tasted the frosting that he was making. He was wearing your floral apron, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of him. He had flour and pink frosting on his beard and cheek. He certainly looked like he had been trying his best to bake cookies for his daughter.

“Do you need help?” You asked, watching Joe sucked the frosting off his finger and made a disapproval expression.

“This is my second batch, and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” Joe shook his head, staring at the mixing bowl.

“Let me try.” You walked over to him, placing Rosie on your hip. 

You reached over to the bowl and sucked the frosting off your finger before making a face. 

“That’s so sweet.” You scrunch your face. “How much sugar did you put in this?” 

“It said five cups.”

Your eyes widened, “Five?!”

You walked around Joe and read the recipe in the recipe book and bit your lower lip. You gazed up at Joe and gave him your sympathetic eyes. The poor thing must be that tired because he read the instructions wrong.

“No, it’s five tablespoons of milk.” You said. “It’s three cups of powdered sugar.”

You heard Rosie giggle as Joe knitted his brows and leaned in towards you. He blinked a few times before slapping a palm on his forehead.

“Ohmygod, my eyesight is that bad now? I thought it said five cups!”

You laughed softly, caressing his back softly. You and Joe turned when you both heard Rosie laughed softly. Immediately, Joe raised a brow at her, his fingers poking her small tummy.

“That’s funny to you, yea?” Joe teased, tickling her on her side as Rosie kicked her feet and laughed harder.

You laughed, holding on to Rosie in your arms as she continued to squirm, while Joe continued to tickle her. 

“That’s funny, yea?” Joe asked. “You won’t have any cookies if you keep laughing at me.”

Rosie immediately went dead silent as she pouted and reached her arms towards Joe. Taking her up in his arms, Joe swung her around in the air, making her laugh before nuzzling his frosting covered face on hers. He left repeated kisses all over her face as Rosie laughed, kicking her feet in happiness. You couldn’t help but watch them together. They were so adorable like this, and you honestly didn’t even want to ruin the moment at all. 

Joe placed Rosie back on the kitchen counter as he wiped off the frosting that got stuck on her face from him. You grabbed the mixing bowl and dumped the bad frosting in the bin before washing it.

“Darling, I got it.” Joe murmured, hugging you from behind and kissing your cheek softly.

“Are you sure?” You raised a brow at him.

“Yes.” Joe smirked. “I know what to do now.”

Letting out a soft hum, you grabbed a clean kitchen towel to wipe off the excess water inside the mixing bowl before handing it back to him. You never tried to get in the way when it came to their daddy-daughter time. Leaning on the kitchen island, you watched as Joe read the instructions—carefully this time— and asked Rosie to hand him the ingredients. 

Together, they would measure the ingredients and dump it in the bowl before Joe would turn the mixer on. Sitting on the counter top, Rosie swung her legs excitedly, while Joe washed his hands and carried Rosie in his arms. 

“Strawberry frosting.” Rosie murmured, pointing at the perfect frosting that Joe had finally made.

“Let’s try it, yea?” Joe leaned Rosie forward in his arms as she dipped her finger on the frosting and smiled happily. 

“Good?” Joe asked, smiling at his daughter.

“Good!” Rosie gave him a thumbs up before turning her head towards you. “Mum, try it!” 

You grinned at them and walked around the counter. You stared at the bowl before dipping your finger on the frosting and tasted it. You could see Joe was waiting for your reaction, his eyes pleading that it had turned out better than the last two batches he had made. 

“How is it?” He asked. 

“Perfect.” You smiled. 

Joe pumped his fist into the air before giving Rosie a high five and placed her back on the counter again. You laughed softly, watching Joe grab the tray of cookies and place it on the plate next to Rosie. 

“Okay, darling.” Joe said. “Let’s decorate these cookies.”

As Joe grabbed a piping bag, he shoved some frosting in it before handing it to Rosie. You stood to the side and enjoyed the scene that was in front of you. You leaned forward against the counter, your chin on the palm of your hand as you watched them both. Joe helped Rosie decorate the cookies, making more mess in the kitchen as they laughed together. You could see the tiredness in Joe’s eyes, but you knew he refused to go get some rest until he was able to finish these cookies with Rosie. 

Joe had been promising Rosie all week that he would bake with her, but he had been super busy with filming, and he was glad that he had found time to spend time with her on this beautiful Saturday afternoon. However, Joe was filming late at night so he didn’t come home until this morning. 

“Wow!” Joe exclaimed, clapping his hands. “That looks so beautiful, darling.” 

You tilted your head as you watched Rosie add a mountain of pink glittery sprinkles on the cookie. You couldn’t help but chuckle softly as you walked over towards them. 

“Let me see.” You said, looking at the tray of sugar cookies with pink frosting and glittery sprinkles.

“That looks so beautiful.” You smiled at Rosie, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Rosie picked up one of the cookies from the tray and reached it over for you to take a bite out of it. You let out a soft approving hum, chewing on the cookie and nodding your head. 

“Delicious.” You grinned, brushing her soft brown curls. “You and Daddy are such good bakers.”

“Yay!!” Rosie clapped her hands as you and Joe both laughed. 

You started picking up the dirty dishes and placed them on the sink and started washing them before you felt Joe’s strong arms wrapped around your waist. He hugged you from behind, setting his chin on your shoulder, grinning happily.

“I can handle that, love.” He whispered, kissing your cheek.

“Hmm…” You turned around as he yawned softly. 

You picked up a clean dish towel and wiped the frosting off his face. “You and Rosie get some rest, and I’ll finish up around here.”

“No, it’s my mess. Let me clean it up.” Joe argued. 

“No, no. You both go to the living room and relax. I can handle it.” You gave him a reassuring smile. 

“Okay, thank you.” Joe smiled, kissing you softly on the lips. 

“Just make sure to change her into a fresh shirt, please.”

“Will do!” Joe called out as he carried Rosie in his arms and walked out of the kitchen.

You couldn’t even feel frustrated or mad about all of this. Even if you had just deep cleaned the kitchen this morning, you were too caught up admiring the sight of them earlier. You couldn’t help but smile, thinking about how much Joe loves the both of you. How much he’d do anything for Rosie even if he was exhausted. 

Putting away the clean dishes back on the cupboard and wiping the kitchen counters, you placed a few cookies on a plate and made your way towards the living room. You could hear the movie Tangled playing on the television and the next thing your eyes caught made your heart swell even more. 

Joe was laying on the sofa with Rosie on top of his chest. Rosie’s soft curls were sprawled on Joe’s arm, her tiny arms wrapped around his neck. Joe’s one arm was underneath his head and his other one wrapped around Rosie’s body. His chest was rising and falling steadily as they both slept peacefully. 

You couldn’t help but just stand there and watch them for a moment. 

You certainly love this little family of yours. 

The End. 

********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @munsonluvrr @ali-r3n @quinnyficsy @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf @mvnsonlover @mdurdenpitt @siriuslysmoking @blueleonor @bejeweled13swiftie @ceriseheaven

[metal-redcherries]

He looks like he is about to tell me that we are going on a luxury vacation to Italy.

AND. I'M. HERE. FOR. IT.

[lovebugism]

✶ ┄ HOLY GRAIL !

part one | part two

summary: in ancient rome, where survival is determined by the whims of a mad ruler, the empire's beloved general gives you – his first and only love – to the crazed emperor to ensure your safety. (6k)

pairing: marcus acacius / fem!reader, emperor geta / fem!reader

contents: established relationship, strangers to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort cw for mentions of war and violence, mentions of sex work, swearing, smut 18+ (dubcon, m receiving oral, unprotected sex, cuckholding, exhibitionism) (this is a pretty dark fic so pls heed the warnings!!!)

Marcus Acacius was the name on the lips of a thousand fallen empires. His ledger ran a deep scarlet color, which dripped like proof from his sword. The war had destroyed the General over the years — had turned the man into an empty thing filled only by untamable ghosts. The relentless battle had wrung his boyhood from his body like a slow, merciless death. Any remaining innocence has since been replaced with violence.

Rome made a legacy of his grotesque evils, turned him into a saint. Marcus Acacius did not want to be a saint. He did not want to be angry; he did not want to be cruel. He only wanted to love and to be left alone with his tenderness. His mouth filled with blood instead.

You loved him like all doomed, grotesque things are meant to be loved. In the dark. In the shadows of war. In the depths of the soul.

“This is me,” he confesses, the great General Acacius, returning to you like a ghost to its haunt. “This is who I am.”

His golden armor is sullied from a victorious battle, tainted now with blotches of soil and dried blood that’s not his own. His dirtied, unholy fists tremble at his sides as he fights the urge to cross the threshold of your quarters to meet you. Marcus knows he doesn’t deserve to be held by you now. Not when he still wreaks of death.

He can still feel the breath of a fist on his bruised cheek, but the way his sword felt plunging through the beating heart of an enemy soldier plagues him most of all. 

“Love turned on me long ago— It is not a burden I compel you to carry.”

So, please, do not love me, he doesn’t say. I only know how to destroy you.

You smile at him, eyes soft with sympathy, and cross the threshold of longing with an admirable effortlessness. You cradle his weathered, war-torn face in your palms, willingly staining your delicate hands with the blood stained there.

“I love you despite. So I imagine I’ll carry it anyway,” you coo to him, gentle eyes locked firmly with his heavy ones. “And I’m certain you love me in return, regardless of what you think the siege has made of you.”

“There is naught I can do about it,” Marcus admits, words heavy with choked-back emotion. He melts into your touch but continues to deny himself the want to hold you back. “Not while I still oversee this campaign. Not while there is a war to be won—”

“We love each other, don’t we?” you interject, pleading eyes searching for emotion behind his dark, stoic gaze. Marcus swallows hard. His scruffy chin scrapes your palm as he nods once in response. You grin and say the unforgiving truth out loud. “So fuck the war.”

You pull him down by his face to press a kiss to his unclean lips. Marcus rests his shaking hands over your waist and lets you build cathedrals in his mouth with your tongue. The blood in his teeth turns to holy water. 

Marcus long understood that bringing you to the city would be his last act of love.

Keeping you in the heart of Rome was the only way he could ensure your safety, with the surrounding towns still under merciless siege. The people there were docile, and loyal most of all to the General who had won them a thousand wars. They would not hurt you because it was not in their kind too, and because they feared General Acacius’ wrath as much as they respected his mercy.

This was known to everyone in Rome except its Emperors.

Geta and Caracalla ruled together following their father’s untimely demise but shared not a brain between them. They were boys, after all, the oldest being hardly two-and-twenty –– it was in their nature to talk more than they listened, and to pretend as if they knew the world despite never leaving the city walls. 

They were as cruel and as stupid as anyone who wished to rule an empire would be.

But the two of them relied heavily on their General to keep the restless public at ease. It made it easier for Marcus to bring you with him, knowing he had the trust of the most powerful men in Rome. He knew Geta kept meticulous care of his most precious gifts — all Marcus had to do was get you there, really, and the Emperors would do the rest for him. 

It was simple, but it was not easy; though he imagines no war ever has been or would be. Both of you had survived, yes, but neither of you had been spared. Bringing you here was a testament to that, which you seemingly could not comprehend. You were as soft and green as the countryside he plucked you from, too naive for politics.

Marcus tells himself that this was the merciful decision, anyway, as he gives you a tour of Caracalla’s labyrinthine gardens — the place farthest from the feasting hall where the noblemen dined. Hidden behind climbing leaves, free from prying eyes.

“I can’t imagine why you would be so apprehensive in bringing me here. It’s beautiful,” you marvel aloud as you walk ahead of the man guiding you. 

Your sandals pad faintly along the cobbled trail as you skim your palm over the bed of blooming roses. The petals feel like silk against your skin. You pluck one from the soil, careful to avoid its thorns, and hold it up to your nose. You turn to face Marcus with the crimson flower resting on your cupid’s bow.

“And it smells better, too,” you quip softly, tilting your head to your shoulder as you smirk behind the budding rose.

Marcus just barely manages to bite back his own grin until you reach out for him, tapping the delicate flower against the bridge of his strong nose. He exhales hard through his nostrils in place of a laugh.

Your giggling comes carried on the breath of a warm summer breeze — a symphony of salty ocean, dainty florals, and the pretty oils you’d bathed in. The wind billows through your thin, white gown and creates music with rustling leaves. You squint one eye when the setting sun peeks through the swishing tree limbs, bathing you in a golden-hour aura. 

You’re as beautiful as sin. Sweeter than death. Smiling at him like this is the beginning of something that died the moment you entered the city walls.

Marcus clears throat and gently guides your hand away. His cautious eyes flit around the vacant garden. He’s constantly looking over his shoulder, you find, despite being the strongest man in all of Rome. You feel safest at his side, so you don’t know why he always looks so frightened.

“I know you are drunk on youth and immortality, petal, but we cannot get ahead of ourselves,” he advises, all stiff and stern, though the term of endearment spills effortlessly from his mouth. “We’re in the city now. So we must play the part. Like we discussed.”

He speaks to you with an unintentional sort of vagueness that makes you bow your head like a scolded child. Your arm falls limp at your side. A scarlet petal slips from its stem and hits the unforgiving stone.

“I know,” you murmur with a poorly hidden frown that conveys otherwise. Your sheepish gaze flits from the ground to Marcus’ unwavering stare and to the ground again. “I just thought— whenever we were alone, that we might—”

“We aren’t alone. We must behave as though the city is full of eyes. Understand?”

“I can’t,” you confess, peering up at the General from beneath your lashes. 

Marcus’ chest stings, like the fiery sun blazing his newly-fashioned armor. “What do you mean you can’t?” he bites emotionlessly.

He looks like a corrupt sort of angel in this light, unnaturally handsome and hopelessly wartorn. He was as hard as the earth below your feet — a statue made of clay, iron, and marble — cold to the touch and melting only for you. 

His heavy eyes were so brown they looked almost black, and they shone with a perpetual sort of gloom. His gaze swam with the prophetic darkness of a man who’s seen too much, though you often felt like you could drown in its void. For a man so adept at killing, he looked at you with a remarkable softness.

It wasn’t as shallow as physical desire. It was something far more cruel. You wanted Marcus Acacius the same way flesh wanted to knit itself together over a healing wound. It was simply in your nature to love him. 

“I mean, it’s impossible,” you ramble with a concerned furrow to your brow. Your grip on the flower’s papery stem tightens until the bulb rattles with the force. “How am I to be here with you but not touch you? That’s like asking the seasons not to change— It’s unnatural, and it’s cruel—”

Marcus swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. His hands begin to ache with the urge to touch you. He balls them into fists instead.

“It’s the only way I know to keep you safe!” he confesses, words sounding heavy in his mouth. His eyes flit across the garden in a paranoid search of something that isn’t there. “Emperor Geta will take care of you. I know he will. And his brother is a half-wit, but he is kind when he wishes. He’ll take a liking to you, I’m sure of it—”

You interject his anxious rambling with a stubborn shake of your head.

“I can’t be someone else’s,” you murmur, voice as wet as the tears glittering in your wide-eyed gaze. “I don’t know how.”

“You will learn,” Marcus tells you with an emotionless stare. Not because he’s sure you will, but because he knows you have to. “For me.”

Your pretty features swirl with anguish. “Marcus…” you whisper his name in a feeble whimper caught in your throat.

He does not soften at your emotion like you’re used to. He’s practiced apathy for so long that it comes naturally to him now. He bites his tongue to keep from kissing you and lets the blood stain his teeth all over again.

“If not for your own sake, then for mine. The Emperors would have my head if they understood the pretenses I brought you under.”

You flinch at his words, perhaps finally understanding the weight of the unforgiving world in which you live. The surest example of such cruelty stands before you now, in the only man you ever loved now using your purest devotion as a means to keep you pliant. But your anger for the merciless arrangement is long eclipsed by your yearning.

“Then I will,” you tell him, rigid with a glacial disposition Marcus hasn’t seen before now.

The choices here were few. Either you were slaughtered outside the city walls by soldiers and pillagers, or you were slaughtered within them — in the metaphorical sense that burns physically in your chest now. 

Being without Marcus feels like a fate worse than death, but you want him so desperately to live. So much so that you’ll fall on the sword of your longing and bleed out at his feet. Knowing that you’re under the same sky would have to be enough for you. 

You can’t tell which it is — sacrifice or self-slaughter — but Marcus knows it isn’t as poetic as all that. 

Death is death.

Emperor Geta staggers drunkenly down the spiral stone steps of the west wing of his castle. The path to his chambers is illuminated by several dwindling torches hung along the brick walls. The subtle squeaking of his leather sandals sounds much louder in the quiet — filled only by crackling flames, a distant dripping noise, and the song he slurs under his breath. 

The latter ceases suddenly when he stumbles to a stop at the sight of General Acacius. The man stands like a statue outside his bedroom door — arms crossed behind his back, old spine perfectly straight — like the obedient guard dog he is. 

The thought makes the Emperor’s lips curl into a crooked smile. “What are you doing here, dog?” he calls to the General as he approaches him, voice echoing down the soulless corridor.

“Your nameday present, your majesty—” Marcus answers and tries not to make a face when the Emperor stands before him. The bittersweet scent of wine stains his breath, overwhelmingly so. Geta was never one to practice temperance. “—I was told to see that you got it.”

The younger man hesitates. “From my uncle?” he wonders aloud.

Marcus nods wordlessly in response.

Geta pauses for a moment. His wide, glassy eyes flit over the General’s shoulder to the arched doorway behind him. His stomach swirls at the thought of what may lie inside. The last nameday present his uncle sent from overseas was a monkey his younger brother has grown much too attached to.

“Well… What is it?”

Marcus swallows hard and steps aside. “Look inside, your majesty.”

Geta takes a deep breath in and swings the creaking door open. His bedroom is lush with crimson silk and golden candlelight, familiarly fragranced with cinnamon and sweet myrrh. It’s accompanied by something foreignly floral, a feminine rosy-lavender that catches his attention before his eyes ever find you.

He steps through the threshold and finds a strange girl standing by the window, before a platter of fruit and wine — bathed half in the silver beams of a full moon, and half in flickering orange flames. 

White silk adorns your frame, so delicate it’s nearly see-through. One of your shoulders is mouthwateringly bare, and there’s a slit in the fabric that rises to your hip. You look as pure as a dove, though you’re so obviously built for sin.

The ground sways beneath Geta’s unsteady feet.

You crunch audibly into an apple before you realize anyone’s there. The juice runs down your chin before you swipe it away with the back of your hand. Only then do your eyes lock with the Emperor’s, who seems equally stunned to see you there. You tense and say nothing as you hide the bitten fruit behind your back.

“It’s a woman,” Geta observes to no one in particular, though his dark eyes have not yet wavered from yours.

Marcus stands behind him and nods — hands still clasped behind his back, heart still pounding against his ribcage. “Yes, your majesty. In plain terms.”

“Well,” the Emperor glances over his shoulder. “What does she do?”

“Whatever you want,” the General answers, though the words taste like vinegar on his tongue. He swallows the bitterness down like bile and leers at you, looking upon his lover as though she were a stranger. “You need only ask.”

Geta, satisfied by his answer, turns back to you. His initial surprise has ebbed into something more pleased, diabolically so. His pink lips curl into a sneer as he walks slowly towards you, eyeing you up and down with curious eyes — a predator stalking its prey.

“Is that true?” he asks you, voice ringing through the quiet room. “Or is he confusing you for a dutiful hound?”

“A dutiful whore, your majesty,” you correct with an acquiescent smile, following the story as Marcus intended. 

The half-truth comes easily to you. Not a lie exactly, but not the whole tale either. You’d spent many of your years working in a brothel on the outskirts of Rome. You were a young woman, unmarried, without family or viable prospects — whoring seemed the most obvious decision then, though it feels so long ago now. 

You’d waited your whole life for something, for Marcus, though you hadn’t expected it to kill you when you found it. You won’t die a saint if the crazed Emperor decides to take your head, but perhaps you could be a martyr. Perhaps that’ll be enough.

Fear beats through your body like a second heart, but your eyes never waver from the Emperor’s. It’s easiest to meet his gaze. He feels more like a human that way. 

There are flecks of gold in his dark eyes, and dark strands in his gold hair. He’s got stubble on his long neck, spots on his broad nose, and wrinkles on his forehead. Not quite as perfect as the pristine white-gold armor would let on.

His eyes flit down your form once more. Something sparks in the deep brown of them, a flicker of silent realization. He spins suddenly on the heel of his sandal to flash Marcus an accusatory glare.

“Is she your whore, General?” he lilts into the heavy silence. His brows raise when he receives no answer from the man across the room. “The question was not rhetorical, Acacius.”

“No, your majesty. She is not mine,” Marcus answers, then clears his throat when the words get stuck there. It’s like he’s plunging a knife through his own heart. He can feel the cold sting of the sharpened blade and the burn of the blood on his skin. “Though, I don’t believe whores belong to anyone.”

A boyish chuckle spills from the Emperor’s mouth. “No. They don’t,” he says with an airy giddiness. “Not before now, anyway—”

Geta spins back again, pleated skirt fanning around his pale thighs. His smile fades with an eerie swiftness. “What are you waiting for? Undress,” he commands with a wave of his ringed hand.

Your wide eyes flit instinctively past him to Marcus, who still idles in the doorway. Only then does he realize how long he’s been staring at you. He forces himself to glance off in another direction, but his gaze keeps finding yours — like a magnet, or a planet with its own gravitational pull.

Your eyes lock, and the only thing you hear is each other, though neither of you has spoken a word. This is the only way, you hear his voice in your head as clearly as your own. This is the only way to stay together. The only way to survive.

Geta mistakes your fear.

“Don’t worry about him, little dove,” he coos, and taps the bottom of your chin with his fingers — as soft and petaled as your own. He smiles when your attention turns to him again, speaking loud enough for the General to hear. “He’s only the guard dog. And good boys get scraps, don’t they, Acacius?”

Marcus’ face screws like he’s tasted something sour. He’s grateful the Emperor isn’t looking at him to see it. “They do, your majesty,” he monotones.

“So you will watch. And report to my uncle how his lovely present fared,” he calls to the older man, though his eyes remain locked with yours. You tense when his pale hand reaches suddenly for your face. He holds your cheeks in his fingers until your lips jut in a soft pout. “Let’s hope I don’t have to send him back your head, little dove.”

He says it with an absentminded effortlessness, as though it’s something he’s done before. 

Still, you manage a small smile and blink up at him with innocent eyes. “What good is a dead whore, your majesty?” you quip.

Geta’s grin widens.  “Precisely. Now undress.”

You reach for the singular sleeve of your slip with trembling fingers. Your right hand sweeps across your left shoulder, skin blazing with fear and anticipation. The fabric trails down down down your arm before falling to your feet in a puddle of milky white silk. Your bare body glows silver and gold between moonlight and flame. 

Goosebumps pebble over your skin despite the humid summer night as Geta circles you like prey. His eyes trail slowly down your form in time with his rhythmic steps. The sound of his sandals scrapping the stone floor, crackling candlelight, and subdued breathing are the only sounds in the quiet room for several long moments.

The Emperor disappears behind you, and you forget how to breathe. Your wide, wet eyes find Marcus once more — pleading, though for what, you cannot say. His face reveals nothing but wrath burns in his gaze.

Geta reappears at your right side. You smell grape wine on his breath when he nears you, breathing heavily through his mouth as he reaches out to touch you. His ringed hands smooth over your collarbone. Your breath catches in your throat. He smiles as though your fright pleases him.

“You’re skittish for a whore,” he muses, playful in a way that makes your stomach wrench. “Are you sure the General didn’t bring me a virgin?”

You swallow hard as his hand trails down your body. Over the swell of your breast, skimming his thumb over your taut nipple, before tracing the expanse of your ribs. His fingers run down your stomach and past the thatch of hair between your legs. They dip finally between your thighs. 

Geta hums a faint moan at the velvet feeling of your pussy. The way your lips part for his fingers, silky skin warm and wet to the touch. 

“I’m whatever you want me to be, your majesty,” you answer, breathing hard through your nose when he pulls his hand away — a warmth you find yourself begrudgingly grieving.

“I need only ask…” the Emperor coos, running his middle and pointer finger over your bottom lip. They shine with the honey you leak despite yourself. Your mouth parts, and he rests the pads of them on your tongue. “…Do I not?”

You nod wordlessly through the salty fingers in your mouth, trying to imagine their Marcus’.

Geta smiles when he parts from you. “Undress me,” he demands. 

You work at his tricky armor with nervous hands and bated breath. 

You unclasp his cape first. The white fabric, now free from its chain, falls heavily to the floor behind him. Your fingers have gone noticeably clammy as they struggle with the sleeves of his tunic. It takes you a beat too long to loosen the laces at his shoulders. The cloth falls finally and puddles around his feet, leaving his lean body on display before you.

His torso is lean and mostly hairless, save for splotches of chestnut on his sternum and stomach. His skin is smooth and flushed from the alcohol. His stomach is slim but noticeably full. The Emperor is well-taken care of, though his subjects outside the keep suffer from the consequences of war.

Your trembling fingers curl around the hem of his loincloth. His pale skin is warm to the touch, boiling with desire while you freeze over with fear. You crouch before him as you drag the garment down his scruffy thighs. You hear Geta sigh above you when his half-hard cock meets the cool summer night air. 

He’s paler there compared to the rest of his golden body, though the mushroom tip glows a faint strawberry-red color. A vein trails in jagged lines to the base of his heavy cock, fading as it reaches the thatch of dark blonde hair at his pubic bone. He’s not nearly as thick as Marcus, though not many people could hope to be — but he is long and thin and soft like velvet.

“How do I look?” Geta wonders as he steps out of his loincloth. He tilts his chin to his chest to peer down at you, on your knees to untie the intricate laces of his sandals. You blink up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “Without my armor,” he adds, then repeats. “How do I look?”

You realize, then, that he wants your praise. Though you’re unsure why, you’re not in any position to deny him of it. “You’re a— a very handsome man, your majesty,” you respond cautiously, with a wavering smile.

You hear his breath catch at the compliment. The corner of his mouth flickers upward, and his nostril flares as he takes a deep breath in. 

“Well, go on, then,” he insists suddenly, nodding his head to egg you onward. “Good whores don’t keep their masters waiting, do they? You don’t want to see me impatient, little dove.”

You wrap his stiff cock in a tentative fist, averting your gaze as you give an experimental kitten lick to the bulbous, strawberry tip. Your tongue swipes away the pearlescent pre-cum beading there. The salty tang is foreign on your tongue, sweeter and thicker than you’re used to.

You imagine your lover when you take the Emperor’s cock in your mouth. A practiced form of dissociation that comes naturally to you now. 

You focus on the way the stone floor digs into your knees as you cup his balls in your hand — a desperate attempt to finish him quickly. Geta shudders when you swallow him whole, burying your nose in the coarse thatch of hair at the base of his cock. His head tips back as he groans at the ceiling.

“You are a proper whore…” the Emperor moans with a delirious smile. He tilts his flushed cheek to his freckled shoulder to sneer at Marcus, then frowns when his eyes meet the back of him. “Are you distracted, General?”

The man keeps his back turned and his eyes trained on the wall, counting the bricks there to distract his racing mind. His mouth snarls at the Emperor’s words. His hands ball into fists as he fights to keep his composure.

“Just giving you your privacy, your majesty.”

“Nonsense!” Geta laughs, loud. “You should watch! You should observe— so you know what to tell my uncle.”

Marcus can hear the mischievous lilt in the younger boy’s voice. Like it’s all just a game to him. Like you’re just a whore to be played with, and like Marcus’ only hope of companionship is warfare. Both might’ve been true once, but not since you find each other.

The general smacks his lips against his teeth. “As you wish,” he deadpans and spins on the heel of his sandal.

He’s strangely grateful to find the Emperor’s body obscuring your own. Geta’s lean, pale form towers over your kneeling one — back muscles flexing, hips thrusting, fingers knitting in your hair.

But Marcus can still hear the sounds of your mouth on the other man’s cock. The room fills with heavy breathing, wet noises, and the Emperor’s unabashed whines. Embers of envy burn in the General’s empty chest. A wildfire of want and wrath rages behind his ribcage.

You swallow with Geta’s cock in your throat and squeeze softly at his balls. You hear his breath hitch just before a lengthy moan spills from his parted mouth. Several loads of salty cum spit down your throat a second later. The man shows you little mercy as he holds you by your hair, keeping your nose pressed to his pubic bone. You take shallow breaths through your nose and try not to choke.

You pull off of him when he lets you go. A string of saliva threatens to keep you connected. You take a deep breath in and swipe at your swollen mouth with the back of your hand, staying on your knees while the Emperor tilts his head back. He exhales a breathy laugh of relief at the ceiling. You peer up at him with wide, wet eyes, still so uncertain of your fate.

“Proper whore, indeed,” Geta muses, almost to himself, as he drops his heavy head once more. 

His flushed chest sparkles with a foreign feeling at the sight of you beneath him — eyes teary and fearful, lips swollen and rosy, features flushed with sweat and sex. His cock jerks, still sensitive but threatening to harden again. He grips himself with a loose fist.

“On the bed,” he instructs suddenly, then grins madly at your shock. “You didn’t think I was done with you, surely. Not until I mount you like a mare, anyway— Treat you like the bitch in heat you are…”

Geta cups your warm cheek in his free hand. His touch is strangely gentle as he cradles you there, right before he smacks gently at your jaw to urge you upward. 

Your bare feet pad towards the bed, then. Geta swats your ass as you go and laughs when you squeak in response. You fight the urge to look at Marcus, lest you see the rage burning in his eyes — lest he see the heartbreak swimming in yours. 

Marcus watches you crawl over the silken sheets, both of you sporting similar far-off gazes. He feels a bit like a ghost now. An empty, invisible thing, doomed to watch the rest of the world go on without ever being able to live in it. It’s dreadfully symbolic of how he’s lived most of his life, and how he’s spent the years loving you. Because even if a ghost is full of love, the only thing it knows to do is haunt.

The silk pillow feels cool under your burning cheek. The mattress dips under the Emperor’s weight when he kneels behind you. His ringed fingers smooth over your ass and down the arch of your back. He treats you with an uncharacteristic sort of tenderness, as though he were molding you out of clay.

“You are a pretty thing, aren’t you?” he whispers under his breath. “And timid, too… I like that…” 

Your pussy clenches at his words despite yourself. Geta’s chest swells with pride accordingly. “You don’t have to be scared, little dove. I’m going to take such good care of you.”

Despite his words, he does not bother to ready you for his cock when he positions himself at your pulsing entrance. You hadn’t expected him to, of course — not many men were as kind as Marcus in that way, who often treated your pleasure as if it were his own. But the slick sticking to your thighs has made your pussy more than pliant. Your velvet walls swallow Geta’s cock with a pulsing vigor.

The Emperor groans as he fucks into you, savoring every inch as he buries himself to the hilt. His ringed fingers dig into the plush of your waist, as though you were a toy he didn’t want getting snatched away.

“Look at the hound!” Geta giggles boyishly to himself. “He’s itching for a feel of you— I just know it.”

Marcus remains as still and stoic as the battalion trained him to be. He reveals nothing on his face, though his skin prickles with flames of envy beneath his armor. 

Marcus Acacius was not a jealous man. His love for you was a testament to that. He visited the brothel you boarded in and spared the same coins as every man in the establishment did. But it was different now. Because the Emperor does not deserve you, and he forces Marcus to watch as if he knows it, too.

Something within him seethes, like a feral animal trapped behind his ribcage, desperately clawing its way out.

“Look at him,” Geta snaps when he sees you staring at the wall, eyes glassy and glazed over. He’s grinning all over again when your gaze snaps to Marcus’. 

The soldier’s weathered eyes burn with tears then. General Acacius has faced death a thousand times over, but it wasn’t quite as heartwrenching as this. His wrath simmers to a boil. He swallows it down like fire.

This is her salvation, he tells himself. This is how she survives.

Your features twist with the anguish of being seen as the Emperor lays himself over your back. His slick chest sits flush with your spine, pinning you to the mattress. “I bet he can taste you now. Smell you,” he murmurs in your ear, chapped mouth brushing the shell of it. “His mouth is salivating at the thought of putting his tongue on you— Isn’t it, dog?”

Marcus swallows through the emotion threatening to strangle him. He blinks away stinging tears and feigns an air of nonchalance. “It would be… impolite to talk so brashly about something that doesn’t belong to me, your majesty,” the General responds. Obedient. Loyal like a hound.

Geta grins wide. “Good answer, Acacius.”

When the Emperor finally fucks into you, it’s with a sloppy sort of precision. There is no rhythm or care to his thrusts. He is led only by his blinding pleasure, like a man who has only ever fucked playthings and his own fist. He props himself on one forearm and curls the other beneath you, holding your breast in his ringed hand.

Geta’s flushed cheek presses against your own while he slides in and out and into you again. You hear his groaning as you feel it rumbling in his chest, still laid against your back. You stare at a framed portrait on the wall across the room and wait for it to be over, even as your body refuses to dismiss its simmering orgasm.

Your swollen clit ruts against the silk sheets with each of the Emperor’s sloppy thrusts. You can feel a wet spot forming beneath you, and your stomach twists at the thought of seeing proof of your own pleasure. 

His balls smack your leaking cunt, creating a symphony of lewd noises — moaning, whimpering, clapping, smacking. Marcus thinks the sounds of war were more merciful than this.

“Do you understand what that means, little dove?” Geta croons into your ear, words choppy through his labored breaths and irregular thrusts. “You belong— to me now… So whatever you used to be— whoever’s you used to be— no longer matters.”

He thrusts once, hard, and shudders above you with a choked-back groan. You grit your teeth to swallow down your own noises of pleasure. The assault on your clit, though unintentional, is still yet relentless. You feel the distant white-hot burning feeling begin to swell in the pit of your stomach. A coil about to snap.

“Fucking me— Making me feel good—” the Emperor pants, punctuated by his hips against your ass. “—Is your only duty now. Understand?”

You nod, cheek running over the silk cushion as you grip it in your fists. “Yes, your majesty,” you gasp.

Geta presses his smile to the apple of your cheek. He can feel you leaking around him. You’re enjoying this just as much as he is, to be sure. A proper whore, indeed.

“Now… Take my spend like a good bitch, and thank me for it—”

He fucks you harder, and your face twists with a pleasure you’re too weak to fight away. 

Your gaze falls instinctively to Marcus as your orgasm threatens to swallow you whole. Your eyes squeeze shut in a feeble attempt to hide. Your mouth parts with a silent moan as you cum around the Emperor’s cock.

“Thank you, your majesty,” you whimper obediently into the pillow as you tremble beneath him. “Thank you.”

Geta buries a whine in your neck when he cums again. He gives you only two pitiful, warm loads but still possesses more stamina than your Marcus. He stills, then shudders, then rests his unforgiving bodyweight on top of you when pleasure makes a puddle of him. And of you, you assume, as a mixture of your spend leaks out of your cunt and onto the sheets.

“Write to my uncle, Acacius—” Geta slurs into your skin, heavy through labored pants. “—A thank you for my nameday present.”

Marcus forgets, until then, that he can still be seen. He felt more akin to a corpse hidden in the walls, forced to spend his afterlife in a merciless purgatory. His heart has stopped beating, frozen over, and now sits dead in his chest. He will never be as gentle as he was with you. He will be bloodied knuckles and pulsing wounds. Rough and cruel and angry.

“Yes, your majesty,” the General nods, thankful that it’s over now.

Geta rolls off of your body and onto the empty spot beside you — not shy about his nude form or yours. The sudden lack of warmth makes you shiver. 

“And tell him to send another— To keep the General’s bed warm, too,” he says, patting your ass with his palm before smoothing tenderly over the skin. “One whore’s as good as any other, I’m sure.”

Marcus flinches at the thought of being with anyone other than you. He couldn’t hide the look of disgust if he tried. It makes the Emperor laugh loudly in response.

“Oh, did you— Did you want to try this one?” Geta muses knowingly, pointing to your limp body, still trembling beside him with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“No. No, no, no— See, this one’s mine,” he corrects the General as if he were a child. “And it would be impolite to touch something that belongs to me, would it not? It would be treasonous, even.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Marcus nods, lip flickering in a mere hint of a smirk as his plan finally comes to fruition. “It would be.”

The Emperor sees you now as his property, and no one hurts what belongs to him without meeting a certain death. Marcus is comforted only by the thought that nothing can touch you now. Not even him. But perhaps that’s the price he pays for love. Perhaps, in the end, love is grief.

“So best tread lightly, Acacius,” Geta warns with a crooked smile, petting you like a dog. “I’d hate for someone to get hurt.”

[sweetprfct]

me:

slutty little blurby blurb about joe’s thick fingers 🤍

you find yourself staring at them all. the. time. and it’s hard to ignore them when he’s just constantly fidgeting, fingertips twiddling with his rings or running them through his hair or fixing his clothes. it’s just. constant.

he’s trying to have a conversation with you, and you’re trying to listen you really are — but he’s playing with the ring on his middle finger and you’re finding your brain short circuiting, as you watch his perfectly manicured nails dip under the band and slide it up to the knuckle then back down, a nervous habit.

your thighs clench. of course they do. you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something stupid, from launching yourself at him across the couch. he’s just a friend, just a totally normal friend who’s actually really famous now and could have any woman he wanted, he doesn’t want you like that.

“what size is that ring?” the words sputter out like word vomit before you can stop it, and your eyes go wide. he looks at you in confusion, and you bury your mouth in your glass of wine, swigging a large gulp full and willing the ground to swallow you up.

he chuckles, and it’s so deep you feel it fucking vibrate through your body, even though not one part of you is touching him, “i’m not sure, darling. it’s old. size twelve… fourteen maybe? i don’t know american sizings, it’s whatever a british ‘t’ is.”

your mouth waters. brain turning completely to mush as he draws attention to the ring for you to look at, slips it off of his finger and grabs at your own hand, sliding it deftly onto your thumb. you don’t have thin fingers either, really, but the ring is completely loose and slips back off when you move your hand.

“i have big hands.” he shrugs — and no shit, you fucking know. it’s not as if you hadn’t been lusting over them this entire time, or anything. he picks up the fallen piece of jewellery, pops it back on his finger, completely oblivious to how he just knocked the breath out of you.

you’re not sure how you ended up here. but you’re hazy from the alcohol and he cornered you in the bathroom, also very much past the stage of tipsy himself. his mouth is hot on your neck and you’re melting — what is happening? how did you get here?

“i see the way you look at them, love.” his voice is rough and gritty and you hate how you flutter and melt so easily for him, “do you want me to show you what i can do with them?”

and the cats got your tongue. you don’t know what to say, as his rough stubbled beard rubs at your neck, sure to leave a rash behind. but his lips are so soft, a complete contrast, as he peppers kisses on your flushed skin.

his hand slides up the inside of your thigh — hot and heavy and engulfing your flesh, a true testament to just how wide his hands were, “come on, darling. got to say something or i can’t do this for you.”

and he’s so sweet, of course he is. he’s waiting for your permission to touch you properly and your head is spinning — not from the alcohol but from how obsessed you were with him, as a person. you nod, a whiney little ‘please’ escaping your lips.

it’s that easy. his hand skirts up your thigh to rest on the mound of your cunt, hot and heavy. he tsks when he feels the damp patch you’ve left behind on the silky fabric, leaving his place in your neck to grin at you all stupid, “knew it.”

your fingers grip at the loose, white shirt he’s wearing, as he hooks two fingers into your underwear and pulls them to the side, baring your folds to the cool air. he’s hasty, a slight desperation in him as the pads of two of his fingers run in between your lips, gathering the juices.

they’ve not even entered you yet and they’re already spreading you wide, just the tips circling your hole — you honestly couldn’t brace yourself for it once he slid his middle finger in to the hilt, the metal of the ring catching on your entrance. you clench around it and he gasps, all mocking with his pearly whites on display.

“all this, for me?” he asks, and it’s probably not meant to come across so dirty but it does and you moan in response. he crooks his finger, the soft tip catching on your front wall, sliding over the spot that makes your eyes flutter.

he pumps his finger in and out a few times, before he’s running the tip of his ring finger on your entrance, preparing you for the breach of it. it doesn’t do anything, really, because when his second finger joins his first it feels like the airs being knocked out of your lungs. you whine, tugging him closer to you with the hand wound tight in his shirt.

you find yourself sinking up and down on his fingers to match his thrusts, and his wide, blown out eyes are caught between looking at the fucked out expression on your face and where his fingers are sliding in and out of your pussy. he’s mesmerised by it.

it’s a stretch. the thickness of his fingers evident now more than ever, and you can’t help but gasp every time you feel the cool metal of his rings on your folds. he’s clearly skilled in this, keeps crooking them just right, has a perfect pace set that has you hurtling towards the edge quickly.

he leans forward the rest of the way, closing the gap so your lips can touch. it catches you by surprise, but your hands release his shirt and tangle in his mop of messy curls instead, tugging his chest to yours whilst he licks into your mouth like a man starved, catching your moans with his lips.

his thumb flicks your clit unexpectedly, and you come fast after that, gushing down his fingers and no doubt leaving a mess in your wake. he laughs against your mouth, and you can’t help but laugh, too — the desperate want finally lifting from your mind and you realise how silly and fumbly the whole scenario was.

you feel empty once his fingers slide out, your eyes widening when you see his hand is soaked all the way to the wrist, your cum pooling around the rims of his rings. you watch through hooded eyes as he brings his fingers to up to your lips, runs the tips along your kiss slick mouth, then presses them onto your waiting tongue.

i have zero words for why i wrote this other than @daleyeahson bringing attention to joe’s massive hands by gifting him a new ring 😵‍💫

[exilynn]

Just Eddie and Aby in a song in smut, and one scene from a hot scene in Black River on Echoes Nocteris

| I recommend this Priest song so much, this videoclipe is My all, but don't watch with kids or YOUR parent's hehe

honest opinion Of a writer:

But the vibe that i write has always a vibe like:

[dilf-docs]

All Roads Lead To Rome

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (BARK BARK BARK), smut, p. in v., bit of exhibition kink cause they fuck on his trailer, he swears he's mad but he just wants head, oral (m. receiving), he also uses his armor and skirt while at it bc its hot and not bc i totally want that to happen to me or smth!!!, brat taming, orgasm denial, breeding and daddy kink lowkey, i'm so down bad for him so there's fluff!!! + pedro being whipped cause that's exactly what i want in my men, the cast makes cameos bc i love them!!! use of spanish (i'm latina so don't even try me), pedro wearing a skirt tehee

word count: 3,519 words

side note: i'm about as FERAL and horny as much as one could be!!! damn u pedro, making me walk out in the middle of class and walk on foot to the nearest theather for an early gladiator II screening (bc they're cheaper and i'm a jobless broke student lmao) that mind u it's my first solo trip to the movies but it's okay!!!! nobody interrupt me on my horny dilf hours amirite I TELL U that cinema was almost empty: just me, pedro and hey there's a spot if u wanna join mescal (look at my blog banner IYKYK) so yeah!!!! enjoy this porn lovechild that steemed from it; my pedro renaissance that'd been asleep since tlou dropped AWAKES (u don't get it, i literally watched narcos just for him) i'm so fr i need this man BIBLICALLY!!

"Lemme guess, that's her, right?"

Pedro looks up from his phone, slightly red and embarrassed. He would blame the color on the sun, and as an actor, fake his way out.

"No idea what you're talking about, Paul"

The young man chuckles.

"I mean, every break we get, you take your chair, sit the farthest and pull your phone with the most ridiculous grin I've ever seen. I'm afraid to tell you, friend, you aren't as slick as you think"

He leans back against the chair, covering his face with his large palm.

"At least I tried" he finds no point in lying anymore, "seems like I'm addicted, but if it wasn't for y/n, I wouldn't touch it"

"I'm curious, though" Paul scoots his chair closer, "who texts who? You or her?"

"Me" he answers, but then corrects himself quickly, a bit ashamed of how that makes him sound, "but it's mostly her first".

"Right" he doesn't sound convinced, rather curious and annoyed, something he's too old and tired for, "I don't believe you"

He's about to lock his phone, but the wallpaper (a selfie with you) would probably earn him another mock from Mescal.

"Too bad I don't need you to"

Before he can do so, the irish man yanks his phone away.

"Give it back!" he shouts, earning a few glances from the crew around them, "what are you, ten?"

"No, twenty-eight" they look like kids bickering. "No need to fight me, Mr. Pascal, they haven't taught us the new fighting choreography yet" he mocks, before the phone chimes; they both stop at the sound.

"What does this mean?" Paul asks. "Malta's nice" he reads out loud, "were you talking about possible future vacations? I might have to tag along"

He doesn't follow the man's joke, instead, looking at the message on your chat. Malta's nice, says the little cryptic message, and yes―it is cryptic, because you were just talking about missing each other and some other corny stuff he'd take to his grave. Not vacations, and certainly, not about the european island, which happens to also be the place were he's filming his latest movie.

"No, we weren't" he replies confused, "what do you think it means?"

"Well, obviously, you boys don't know anything" May pops up from behind, laughing.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he asks playfully, albeit, a little offended.

"No, you guys are just too loud" she replies nonchalant. "Besides, you aren't very good at hiding it, either"

"That's what I said!" Paul backs, laughing on his face.

"Stop being misterious and just drop it"

"It means" she pauses―laughing at her own little dramatic effect, "that you're getting a visit soon"

When you met Pedro, you were working in The Last Of Us. Nothing fancy, just part of the technical cast of the show: helping with the filming and stuff.

During those months, it was easy to find yourself falling for the main star (alongside Bella Ramsey), especially when you spent months behind a camera, capturing all of his perfect features; learning them by memory until you could draw them without seeing his face.

Yes, you had fallen for the older man, because it was as natural as breathing; easy as being alive―the fall so gentle and so easy, it was hard to know when the feelings started. You just woke up one day, feeling different.

You liked to act up―always had what you wanted, and times had changed (so it's not like he had to ask first): why not? Which is why during your last day of shooting you took some liquid courage on your veins and went up his way. It was at a little gathering the crew you've grown to call family organized, while wearing your favorite and tightest dress, that you approached him.

It surprised you that he even recognized you, but that's who he was: warm, welcoming and caring.

To augment the surprise, turns out he had eyed you already, but was too shy to do anything. Yes, the worlds most famous Chilean man. It did stroke your ego, and maybe that's why you feel like most of the time, you've got the upper hand on your relationship, despite the years in between.

Still, you feel like the last message you just sent was a bit too blunt. Now you sit at the tiny airport, pondering your next move.

You know your boyfriend isn't exactly the type to scold or get mad―despite his strong figure, but going against the only thing he asked you might test him. Which is why you feel nervous, despite the happiness around you, everyone in the airport looking straight out of a picture perfect summer edition magazine.

And your theory is proven exactly right when you arrive impromptu at the Gladiator II set: making heads turn and guards almost kick you out, thinking you're a fan.

"You don't get it!" you protest, "he's my boyfriend".

"Sure", they laugh on your face. "you're not the first to say that".

"She's not lying" oh, how you love that gravely voice. But not today: not when he sounds like a parent scolding a naive child. Not when his eyes bore into you, slightly irritated.

So now he's dragging you among the set, right to were his trailer is.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" you ask, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. He keeps dragging you by the arm, without sparing a glance in your way. Who does he think he is? "I wanted to tell Paul he made me cry―twice. You know I don't play about Normal People and Aftersun"

"But you do seem to play about my orders" he grunts out, opening the door to his trailer. The sunlight reflects against the white, slightly bothering your eyes with its shine, contrary to your boyfriend's gloomy behaviour.

"Are you being serious right now? You're not my dad to scold me. I just wanted to surprise you" you stand still, refusing to get inside. Pedro knows your character tends to be stubborn, and thought he finds it hot to reel you up sometimes, there are other times where he can't just stand that juvenile spirit of rage you tend to have when things don't go the way you want them to. "What's gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same" he mocks. "Get inside. Now"

"Rude" you scoff, but obey regardless, and he breathes out relieved you didn't do a scene like last time; he still can't show his face on that restaurant to this day.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me" you say a tad bit dissapointed, and Pascal feels the pissed off feelings clouding his brain start to dissipate.

"I do, amor" he sighs, "just hate to see you do things I tell you not to; waltzing in here like you own the place".

You don't see the mistake, though. What's wrong with wanting to do a little surprise? It's not like you were a stalker or something; just a very clingy girlfriend who happens to miss her boyfriend.

"So, you're not mad?" you venture, "tell me you're not embarrassed"

He looks at you, the fondness of his gaze betraying him.

"I'm not the one wearing a skirt while trying to sound intimidating" you joke while caressing the crook of his nose, knowing you always get on his good side. Being mad isn't something that lasts, "if anyone should be embarrassed, that's you"

"Are you saying I shouldn't wear one because I'm a man?" your boyfriend looks offended, "Have you forgotten the movie I'm starring in? People feared the skirt-wearing Roman army"

"Well, I'm not intimidated" you stand defiant, and something dark tints his brown eyes. You can feel the excitement begin pooling in your stomach.

"You're not?" he grips your wrists and yanks you to him, then holds your chin, tilting your head between his calloused fingers. "Well, cariño, you should be"

Your body slams against one of the trailers walls, and you have to suppress a whine.

"You must be punished for what you did today"

You give him a doe-eye look, pretending to be all innocent, as if you weren't enjoying the punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a good girl"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about" he clicks his tongue, "don't play dumb with me"

"I just came to visit you" you murmur, voice husky against his ear. He grunts, and with the proximity, his hard-on rasps against your bare legs, only partly covered by the flowy summer dress you're wearing, "is that so bad?"

"It is. Has sido mala, cariño" his hand travels down under your dress, carresing with his large palm the silhoutte of your ass. The rings on his fingers create a shock, cold metal against your warm sun-bathed skin. "Naughty girl"

"I promise I'll be good, papi" you purr, using that honeyed voice of yours that makes it hard: hard to say no and hard between his pants.

Pedro sits on a small couch he has inside the trailer, guiding you with his hand enveloped around yours, motioning you to follow with a care so soft, you'd doubt he's about to do to you what he is about to do to you. He pulls you across his lap, smiling (God, you love his smile) as your stomach presses against his tights.

"Don't worry" he breathes low, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you a good girl. Tell me, aren't you?"

You swallow, "I am"

He moves the panties easily to the side, rubbing your pussy a little. He then spanks it softly, making you mewl at the sting.

Pedro continues to trace over it, "Are you sure about that?"

"N-no" you shiver in delight, resolve dissolving as quick as it came. "I'm naughty"

"It's good to be aware" he murmurs, "Dilo otra vez"

"I'm a naughty girl"

He lifts your head by your hair. "Tell me what you did"

"Disobeyed your orders, coming to the set" you whisper. He lets go of your hair, his hands traveling down again, slowly teasingly rubbing your pussy while he humms.

"You were a little brat, amor"

You whimpered and mewled in delight. "I was a very naughty brat"

He pushed his fingers inside you, plunging his fingers into your pussy.

"Look at you. You're soaking wet" he pumped his fingers in you, making you moan, "Is that why you came to see me? Couldn't wait any longer for daddy to be inside of you?"

You bucked a little, making him stop. He drags his fingers out, causing you to beg for him to go back.

"Answer my question you greedy thing" He leaned closer to your ear. "Did you need my cock this much?"

You whimper, "I do! Missed you so much"

He pushed his fingers back into you, provoking a moan out of you.

"You're always so needy for me" your core tenses, making you shiver. "How badly do you want me? Tell me"

You whimpered "Badly, papi"

"Say it" his face contorts in satisfaction at your pathethic display; crying little mess, "Who's cock, fingers and mouth make you feel good?"

You can't think at this point, your brain fuzzy and pussy hot, leaking. You kiss his lips, moaning against them, "you!"

"Just me, yes? Nobody else can make you feel this good?"

"No one!"

You involuntarily roll your hips to aid you in pleasure, yet Pedro stops you just before you can reach your orgasm.

"Little brat." he tuts, making you groan. "Did you think I'd let you? You were naughty today, baby"

You huff in annoyance, used to having your way.

"That's your punishment"

"But I'll behave" you mewl against his ear, "I promise"

“Good, because I'm planning on fucking your brains out” his hot breathe whispers in your ear seductively, trying his best not to slur the words at the drunken haze that your arousal provokes in him, "but you have to help me first"

You get on your knees, looking at the garment he's wearing. The skirt and general costume makes this all the more hot, mouth watering at the sight. You raise the skirt, glancing at the briefs; just seeing his dick strained against the fabric makes you wet in anticipation.

He sees the pleasure bore into your orbs, and before you do any dirty idea of yours, he's already warning:

"You have to take this off, what if we-"

"Alright" you cut him off, "but the skirt stays"

"Sigue, pues" he growls, voice low yet demanding, following you in your little game.

As you pull the briefs down, his erection springs out enthusiastically, slapping up against his lower abdomen. You shifted your gaze up to meet his, his eyelids heavy and his proud smirk driving you absolutely wild.

"That's right" he chokes out, "show me how much you missed it"

You give him a proud lick, and Pedro hisses at the moment his preseminal fluid goes in between your hungry lips.

Your tongue darts to the head of his cock, running over it several times before bobbing your head down, taking most of him in your mouth. He keeps praising as you pump the base of his cock with your hand. Your head bobs, yet you peek up to hear Pascal's little sounds and facial expression, a motivation so intimate in the way his brows furrow and eyes roll, mouth agape at your movements while his lip suck on those pretty lips of his. It makes you keep going. With every bob you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, before slowly moving your way back up to the tip, increasing your suction the closer to his head you got. A throaty moan escapes the man above you when you now focus on the final lick, making him closer to coming, all while maintaining eye contact the entire way through.

"Don't do that" he rasps, yanking you by the hair again, as of punishment, but he knows you enjoy it, "you promised you'd be good"

You can't answer, so instead, you reach the head of his cock again, and now his eyes roll back, mumbling profanities that sound like heaven.

"Do you want them to hear us, brat? Qué necia eres" he manages to chastise while moaning.

You feel his dick stuck in your throat, and the way he's about to come; you think that after some time dating, you know him well enough.

You're about to leave with your mouth when he stops you.

"No" your eyes open in shock, "what? Did you think your punishment is over?" Pedro laughs, "don't look at me like that. Like you have never done it before"

He keeps you in place by the hair, the rings prickling against your scalp. You feel his muscles tense up, and before you can think anything else thick and hot shots of cum invade your mouth, making it sticky and warm.

"Don't pretend you don't like it" his voice goes dark, husky. "Swallow it all. Te han enseñado a no desperdiciar nada, ¿verdad? Show me your good manners, then"

When you pull out, your throat feels raspy.

"You gotta reward me" you cough out.

"I promised, didn't I?" his fingers trace your face delicately, with adoration.

"It's all about duty, General Acacius" you purr, and the dick springs out again. Hard.

"Princess..." he warns.

"For the glory of Rome" you joke and laugh, then cough, as your throat is still sore.

"Have you been reading my script?" as you avoid to answer, he just chuckles, "ay, nena"

"C'mere" he motions, and you sit on his lap again. Pedro lifts your dress, exploring the curve of your ass. There's anticipation as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to access your core.

"Fuck" you squirm at his touch, grinding your freed cunt against his hard cock. He grabs you by the hip, adjusting you right on his lap.

"You taste so good" he kisses down your throat, ending at the chest were your tits peak.

"Want them?" you offer, pulling your dress down. He kisses them, gently nipping at your perked up nipples.

A wave of pleasure courses through you, and with whines and moans, you show how desperate you are, the hunger making the meal taste better. After all those weeks missing him, you just want him to fuck you senseless.

His lips are rosy and swollen against yours, mouths clashing; starved of the yearned contact. Truth is, no matter how much you know how to touch yourself, it'll never be the same as having his hard cock tear through your tight folds.

Pedro easily aligns his leaking cock with your uncovered pussy, all while mantaining the kiss. He pushes down on you, your dripping cunt taking all of his rock-hard cock, fingers holding onto the soft brown grey sprinkled locs.

"Pedro" you cry out his name, full of ecstasy as the stretch burns so sweetly. His low grunts only fuel your desire.

You trace with your eyes his body, now bare without the upper part of the costume: his pecs and abs, flexing with every pump. With now free hands, your fingers travel to softly caress his stomach, even if your tits are jiggling and the pace is rather frenetic.

"I miss your tummy" you pout.

"I miss eating too" he whispers out, tiredly. He's reminded of his old age, forgetting about it as soon as you two kiss, because you bring out a stamina he thinks he doesn't have anymore; almost animalistic. His bones creak and adding the tiring filming day under the hot sun, he feels his body start to give up, the orgams closer and closer.

"No matter how you look" you clash your lips onto his, the adoration translating through the smile you press against, a trail of saliva that symbolizes how interwined you are, "you always look so fucking good"

He blushes, feeling like a stupid school boy with a crush. What did he even do to deserve you? Never thought a pretty young wild thing like you would even spare a glance on his way, but now you're taking all of his cock inside with such greed yet loom into his eyes with a love he's only dreamed of.

You're real, and his.

As soon as those words leave your mouth your orgasm spills over him, some of it dripping onto the skirt, making him curse. You can't stop, still meeting his thrusts halfway, despite your trembling body after reaching your high.

"Mierda" he groans against your mouth,

You feel yourself collapsing on top of him, the weight of the jet lag catching up.

"Getting tired, baby?" he coos. "Shit, and I thought I was old"

"You are" you reply back; you can never not have the last word. And he lets you, because, God, doesn't he love you? He pretends to look offended by it, but the way your eyes shine tell him you didn't mean it that way. "You and your white hairs" tracing over his moustache, a soft hand combing through his locks, "These wrinkles... don't you know how much I love them? how much I love you?"

"And you have no idea how much I love you" he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it coming through. "God, wanna make you mine. Sólo mía" his pace slows. It's coming, and yes, you will take it all. "Wanna make you a baby, mami. Want you to take it all like the good girl you are"

When he comes, filling you with burning hot cum until you feel like you might burst, you're numb. But there's a feeling so content that pools warmth in your chest, that you can't say anything else, resting your head against his bare chest, both covered in sticky sweat.

"No sé cómo voy a explicar esto" he speaks through ragged breathes, and you can only smirk, "a squirted and cummed roman skirt".

"That isn't my problem" he scoffs, and you feel your head rise against the movement, earning a laugh out of you, "I'm not part of the movie"

"You'd sure think so, with the way you walked in here"

You roll your eyes, face hidden against his chest, "can you let that go?"

"You're right" he pulls you closer to him, hand enveloping you behind your bare back. The quiet doesn't bother you as you lie closer to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you need to be at peace, "I think punishment time is over. Think you've learned your lesson"

"Then, how about we go out? I've heard Malta's beaches are pretty"

"Relájate, cariño. Seems you've gotten your energy back" he quips, then kisses your forehead. "We need to wait for everyone to get out"

"That embarrased you are of me?" you joke.

"No" he can already imagine his fellow cast members making fun of him, starting with Paul and Joseph when they see you and Connie who will totally notice the fun sticky stains on the costume, "but embarrased of the explanation I'll have to give"

[multific]

Scent

Emperor Geta x Reader

Summary: You never would have imagined such a ruthless and sadistic man to be so obsessed with scent.

How did you always manage to smell so good? 

Every person he met smelled terrible. 

He had many men thrown out of the room because of their foul smell. 

But you always smelled divine. And different each time. 

Sometimes you smelled of roses.

Sometimes you smelled of lavender.

Sometimes you smelled of milk. 

It was always perfect. It made Geta always bury his nose into your skin.

Strangely, your hair never smelled like your body. 

Your hair always smelled of fresh flowers or apples.

He loved it.

He loved you.

Every moment he got, he smelled you. Burying his face into your neck, or during private moments, he buried himself into your breasts or stomach.

It wasn't just your dresses that smelled good. 

Your dresses were different. 

While they smelled like you, they also smelled so fresh. 

"An Empress should smell nice." is what you said to him when he asked you about the smell.

He knew how you liked to bathe. 

How you enjoyed being washed and worshipped.

In reality, you preferred to smell great for your husband. Since the first time he noticed your smell of roses, and told you how much he enjoyed it.

Ever since then, you have been finding new ways to smell divine.

And now, you had one more trick up your sleeve.

You were brushing your hair in front of your mirror. You preferred to do it yourself since the servants were always so rough.

Geta closed the door behind himself and let out a long sigh.

"Do you know just how difficult it is to talk to a man who smells like shit? Literal shit! I couldn't even focus." 

"Maybe you should take a bath." you suggested as you looked at him. You smiled when his eyes met yours.

You heard him smelling the air.

"This is new." he said as he walked over to you his nose up in the air, taking big whiffs. "Honey?"

"Yes Dear?" you smirked at him as he smiled. A genuine happy smile might be rare for others, but not for you.

He knelt down in front of you. He grabbed your hand and began to smell up from your wrist to your elbow, from your elbow to your shoulder. 

His breath tickled your skin, making you giggle.

Soon, his nose found it's rightful place in the curve of your neck.

"You smell so sweet." he whispered as he took deep breaths. 

"I'm happy you like it."

"How do you do it? How do you know what I need? I wanted honey today, craved for it and here you are! Smelling like the sweetest honey treat."

"I'm your wife. Who else would know what you need if not me?"

"Oh, how I love you, My Sweet Wife." 

"I love you too."

You both soon headed to bed where he continued to smell your skin and hair, not letting go for one second.

And this is how you slept every night, with Geta hugging your back to his front, his nose in your neck. 

You slept happy, knowing your husband loved you the same you loved him.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐲 | 𝐞.𝐦.

Pairing Eddie Munson x Fem Reader [friends -> lovers]

Summary: You and Eddie ditch the party of the semester to fall into something you both know is meant to be [fluff, 3k]

A/N This is just fun, fluff, and feels. Felt like a vibe while I was writing it. This fic is part 1 of 3.

The music vibrates through the floor so intensely that Eddie can feel it in his bones. Even in the sunroom where he and a few others have settled. The small space gives sight to the backyard, where people mingle as they smoke, illuminated by string lights combating the night’s darkness. Those inside the house with him chatter, sing, and toss their heads back in carefree laughter, feet shuffling against the hardwood as they dance.

The entire scene buzzes with the kind of life only Steve Harrington’s place could ignite on a Friday night. One of these days, he swore he was going to loosen up and allow himself to get swept up in it too. 

For now, he watches. Eyes flitting to various faces, but always returning to you. If you weren’t smiling, you were talking, and the way your lips formed around your words was just as beautiful. The two of you spoke briefly when he first arrived, and he could still feel the delighted hug you’d given him over the fact that he decided to come. He wondered what he’d have to do to make it go away, but good thing he didn’t mind the feeling. It was a reminder of how much he wished your nearness could be all his forever.

Longing was a peculiar thing. Selfish in its occupation of his entire being. 

As Eddie takes another small sip from his drink, something fruity spiked with vodka, The Hair himself saunters up in front of him in a pair of slacks and a Polo sweater. Though rather polished for the occasion, it manages to look fitting on him. His cheeks are a little flushed and the metalhead raises a curious brow as his friend stares down at him with a smirk. 

Rebel Yell starts pulsing through the stereo as Steve offers him a hand off the couch. They end up weaving their way out back. The fall air is cool, but not all of summer’s warmth has vanished. A few people wave and greet them as they head towards a pair of chaise lounge chairs. Billy Idol’s voice is muffled as it continues thrumming from inside. Grooving bodies are visible through the windows as the party carries on. 

Steve pulls out a fancy metal cigarette case before they sit, flipping it open with a soft click. Eddie can’t help but snort as he relaxes into the chair. 

Steve’s brows furrow as he slips out a joint and begins lighting it. “What?” 

Eddie nods to the case in Steve’s lap. “Rich people shit.” 

Steve takes the first couple puffs before passing the joint to Eddie. “Jealous?” 

A smile cracks Eddie's face before he takes a drag. The answer is no, he isn’t. Once upon a time, jealousy was all he burned with, even though he was Hawkin’s poster child for no fucks given and had every reason to be grateful he wasn’t worse off. Grateful for Wayne, that he wasn’t in the pen with his deadbeat father, for finally finding solid friends. He had more than he could ask for, and it took growing up to see it. 

Eddie tips his head back and blows smoke up into the night before giving Steve his turn. What he can’t see is that your eyes have fallen on him from inside the house, sparkling and curious as Robin grins by your side. 

“So did I save you back there or what?” Steve asks as he ashes the joint onto the ground. “Looked like you were zoning in and out, man.” There’s genuine curiosity in his gaze though his tone is playful. 

Growing up with parents like his, Steve had gotten good at reading people. They vacationed a lot, but still managed to walk around with arc reactors in their chests whenever they were home. Bound to detonate in the wake of the most trivial inconveniences. Sometimes he wished he could shut everyone and their feelings out, but he wouldn’t quite be himself then. 

Eddie runs his ringed fingers through his hair. “Just a bit overwhelmed.” 

Steve takes a thoughtful look around. “These kinda things can be a lot.” 

Not even half the faces outside belong to close friends. There was a magic to it, nevertheless. For a few hours, everyone could throw their worries to the wind as Hawkins, Indiana began to feel less like a nowhere town and more like the top of the world. Lord knows Steve didn’t mind the distraction. 

“Not my scene,” Eddie settles on saying. The joint has found its way back into his hand. 

“Everyone’s got their escape,” Steve says. “You’re just too evolved for this one.” 

Eddie snorts. “Shut up.” 

“Yet here you are in the flesh,” Steve continues, thinking as Eddie smokes. “You should tell her how you feel.” 

Eddie coughs, lowering the joint from between his lips. “Dude. Fuck.” 

Steve bites back a smirk as Eddie recovers, extending his hand for the joint. Eddie refuses, taking another drag out of spite, for himself or Steve he isn’t sure. A distant swell of giggles makes multiple heads turn towards the back door, where you and Robin file outside. There’s an immediate flutter in Eddie's gut as he takes you in, your skirt flowing at your thighs. It takes him a second to realize you two are headed their way. 

By the time you make it over, Eddie has straightened up. Meanwhile Steve remains unphased. “Ladies,” Steve greets.  

Robin wrinkles her glittery nose at him. “Why weren’t we invited out here?” 

Chuckling, he makes room for her on his chair and she plops down beside him. “‘Cause you hate the way weed makes you feel like you’re going insane.” He leans into her with each word until she pushes him away with a helpless laugh.

“It’s the principle,” she counters. 

Eddie motions for you to join him and you smile as you take a seat beside him, bumping your shoulder against his in a gentle hello. When he offers you the joint, you shake your head. Steve reaches for it yet again, but Eddie pretends not to notice, taking another drag. A small smile pulls at your lips. 

“Actually, I think I will take a hit.” Eddie doesn’t hesitate passing it to you. 

Rather than indulging, you hand it to Steve, who laughs in victory. Eddie shakes his head, feigning betrayal in a way that earns a laugh out of you. It’s a sweet, melodic sound. He tries to ignore the way your thigh feels pressed against his, but it’s in vain. Even the vanilla notes of your perfume manage to cloud his mind in the softest way. No matter where he was, if you were near, he would always be painfully aware of your presence. 

It was your invitation that had driven him to this party in the first place. Although Steve’s invite came first, your insistence made him change his mind and say yes. Sweaty bodies and blaring music wasn’t your ideal scene either, but you gave in from time to time and looked good doing so. Earlier that night, Eddie almost hadn’t made it through Dancing In the Dark as you and Robin swayed and jumped around like you were alone in your room. There was something about the freeness of the way you moved that made it hard to look away. 

“Munson’s been meaning to tell you something,” Steve announces, looking straight at you.

Eddie’s heart drops into his stomach as he glares at Steve. Robin glances between the two of them, brows furrowed as amusement plays on her lips. You hug your arms as a cool breeze rolls through, but you’re more interested in what Eddie has to say than escaping the chill. In meeting your gaze, however, he silently begs you not to entertain the claim. It only piques your curiosity all the more. 

“Are you gonna spill or what?” Robin prompts.

“There’s nothing to spill,” Eddie insists, looking down to twist his skull ring. 

Reaching over into his lap, you gingerly take his hand into yours to slip off that very ring. He doesn’t pull away or argue, just watches as a helplessly warm feeling melts down his ribcage. His lips twitch upwards when you put it on your thumb because it’s the only finger big enough. It’s warm from being against his own skin for so long. Robin and Steve share a brief, knowing look.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace.” There’s hope woven within the lilt of your voice. Eddie chuckles, and you commit the breathy sound to memory as if you’ll need it one day more than you do now. 

Robin slaps her hands against her knees. “Well, it’s getting kinda chilly out here so I’m gonna head back inside,” she says, rubbing her arms as she stands. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” you tease. 

“I’ll stick to something tame like snooping around in Harrington’s room,” she says as she turns to leave. Steve rolls his eyes.

A comfortable silence settles between the three of you. However, his brows eventually pinch together as he reconsiders Robin’s words. Taking one last drag, he passes the joint back to Eddie.   

“She was joking, Steve,” you assure him, chuckling. 

“No she wasn’t,” he worries as he stands to jog back into the house. Eddie snickers. 

With a soft sigh, you lean back onto your hands, looking towards the sky as silence falls again. There are a few clouds visible in the light of the crescent moon, but the stars are everywhere. Like tiny shining freckles peppered against the face of the night. Part of you wonders if he’ll talk now. 

“What if the stars have been watching us back our entire lives?” you murmur. 

Eddie’s brows pinch together as he looks over at you, chest rattling with a startled laugh. “That’s something to think about.” His eyes are a bit glossier now. “Don’t think I’d mind if that were true.” 

You tilt your head, a smile budding on your face. “You wouldn’t mind billions of little eyes observing your day-to-day life?” you ask. “That’s a pretty big audience.” 

A grin eases across his face, half playful, half cocky. “I’m a pretty interesting guy.”

You lift a teasing shoulder, feigning indifference. “You’re alright.” 

Eddie laughs, but a weighted look flickers in his eyes as he studies you, catching the fondness you hadn’t tried all that hard to hide. Even with the pleasant buzz beneath his skin and somewhat of a looser mind, he can see it clearly. 

“Hey,” you speak up again. There’s a new softness to your voice, something mischievous dancing around the edges. “Wanna get outta here?” 

Eddie blinks like he can’t quite believe you’ve asked, but finds himself saying yes anyways.

••• 

Sitting in the passenger seat in his van, you realize you didn’t think much further than this. The air smells like him in all the best ways. Pinewood and faint cigarette smoke. As the engine rumbles to life, you shift in your seat and peek over at him, your confidence a distant memory. The radio bursts to life as well, but he quickly reaches out to turn it down. You bite back a smile at the fact that his skull ring is missing from his finger because it’s on yours. Eddie settles in with a sigh, turning to you. 

“So,” he says, eyes sparkling and a little red under the glow of the street lights. 

There’s an intensity to the warmth of his gaze. It drives you to hide your face in your hands. Which does nothing to make him disappear, if the way he exhales a chuckle is any indicator. “Stop looking at me, I didn’t think this far ahead.” There’s no real distress in your voice, only giddiness mixed with nerves. 

“Now I feel like an idiot,” you whine. 

“Well, you’re not.” He sounds more sincere than the moment calls for. “And I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop looking at you, so I guess we’re both in a pickle.” 

“A pickle?” You snort, lowering your hands to meet his gaze. More laughter escapes you. Maybe it’s your body's way of not having to address the implication of his words. 

There’s a flutter in his gut as he watches you. It’s like old times, back when you were freshmen who stayed up too late laughing over the most ridiculous things. Except now, you were more than the girl who sat beside him in Biology because you thought it was cool he had a tattoo. You’d grown into a friend, perhaps even more. As composure finds its way back to you, that truth weighs heavy in the small distance between you.  

Eddie clears his throat. “We could hang at mine for a bit. Wayne’s at work.” When you don’t say anything, he bites the inside of his cheek. “It’s up to you.”  

“Sorry, yeah, that sounds good,” you breathe. 

Eddie gears the van into drive, only to put it back in park with a heavy exhale. You blink when angles himself to look at you, opening his mouth a few times before speaking. 

“There is something I need to tell you,” he admits. “No way in hell did I ever think we’d be friends, but you’re the raddest person I’ve ever met.” A lump forms in your throat as his words wash over you. “And you’re so pretty that sometimes I wonder how every guy in the world isn’t giving you whatever you want all the time.” 

You can hear your heart in your ears as you say, “Maybe that’s ‘cause there’s only one guy I want in the world.” 

•••

A small sound of surprise rises up your throat when Eddie backs you against his bedroom door. His apology is hushed against your lips as he continues kissing you, hands gentle where they grip at your waist, feeling along your sides. You’re warm all over as if you’re laid out before the sun, arms hooked around his neck. It hadn’t occurred to him how much he wanted to kiss you until you looked at his alarm clock and realized that it’d probably be best if he drove you home. It was well past midnight. Time had escaped you as you talked and laughed. 

When he does pull away, he studies your face like he’s looking for something. A few seconds pass, and he still doesn’t know what for. Perhaps your smile as it shyly appears. You move your hands to cup his face, thumbs stroking his flushed cheeks. You’ve never been close enough to notice he has the faintest freckles over the bridge of his nose. It almost feels like you’re getting a glimpse at sacred markings you’re not supposed to see. 

Eddie remembers to breathe when you peck his lips again, running your fingers through his hair. His breath is startled out of him, more like. It’s a wonder his knees haven’t buckled beneath him. He wants to kiss you again to see if that’ll finally knock him back down to earth, but instead he exhales the softest sigh over your lips, squeezing your hips to confirm you’re real. He’s not expecting the sense of guilt that creeps up on him. 

Your brows pinch together. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. I just… I haven’t taken you on a date or bought you flowers.” He swallows. “I swear you’re worth all that, swear I’m gonna.” 

You gently scratch his scalp. “That’s nothing to worry yourself over.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “Don’t want you to feel like I’m just trying to come onto you,” he says. “I like you a lot—”  

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever too.” Your voice sounds braver than you feel. 

A smile breaks across his face as he rests his forehead against yours. “Well, that’s maddening news.” 

Humming, you kiss him again, delicately running your tongue along his lips so he shivers. “Where are we gonna go?” you breathe, clarifying when he makes a soft, confused sound, “For our first date.” With the way you continue kissing him, he assumes you don’t really want an answer, that you’re trying to drive him crazy on purpose. 

His mind changes when you gently push his chest so he knows to pull away. He listens immediately, eyes dazed. 

“Maybe the arcade,” you supply, toying with the hem of his shirt. “Or a picnic by the lake.” Your hands slip under his shirt, gracing the skin of his lower stomach, your touch sending a rush of heat through him faster than any high ever could. 

You’re not trying to be suggestive, it’s more exploratory. A shared thrill in finally being able to touch him how you’ve wanted for so long. Eddie’s hands remain at your waist, grounding him even as he feels his resolve starting to slip. 

As much as he wants to indulge a step further, maybe even several, he holds himself back. It might be old-fashioned, but he wants to do this right, do a bit of course correction. He can almost hear Uncle Wayne’s voice from those lazy afternoons of his younger years, talking about life and how to treat a lady. 

“Next Friday,” he says, staring into your eyes intently. “It’ll be nice. I’ll surprise you,” he promises, taking your hands in his, relishing their softness, their warmth. His skull ring is still on your thumb. 

“Really?” Your smile is unabashed. 

He nods, a grin creeping onto his face. “It’s a date.” 

-

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think. 

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