#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?😬

[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! 😊

[metal-redcherries]

The best part as a Latina was watching him not knowing what was going on when Lupita and the interviewer were speaking spanish. Oh and when she asked him if he knew how to dance Merengue? Not bad of a british white boy... I pay my respect

Despierta America thank you for giving Latinos this content 🙌

[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]

I'm just going to say that this feels absolutely surreal...

[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 😵‍💫

[inknopewetrust]

𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠

When the Emperor summons you, you always answer the call. [Emperor Geta x Fem!Reader] [wc: 3.38k]

Warnings: minors DNI, smut, 18+, slight exhibition kink, pinv sex, unprotected sex (this is Ancient Rome, whores), Geta be a little submissive and possessive, corruption, dirty talk. I do not take responsibility for satan causing me to write this.

When you were summoned to the coliseum after dark, there was no questioning what be the cause.

The corridors of the great arena were near silent; distant growls and scratching claws filled its catacombs with a crawling anticipation: when the Emperor called, world at his feet quieted to hear his presence. Feeling the sands of the stage shift and meet the seats of the empty audience, there was nothing but the moonlight and wind to greet you.

You were not alone in Rome’s greatest achievement. The ghosts of the gladiators watched over the wicked as they fed off the suffering of the poor.

But when the guard left you to your devices upon the imperial seat looking over the arena, you forgot the evil that took over the man who called.

“It is quite the sight, no?”

In the silence of the amphitheater Geta’s words were quiet yet threatened to bounce off in echos. You ran your hands over the marble ledge. It’s once smooth nature lifting in bumps every inch of the glide your hand made. A gust of wind fluttered the fabric of your chiton to dance around your legs.

Geta dismissed his most loyal guard at the sight of you.

“It is different in the light,” you answered. The sand below you was not stained of blood and there was no chanting of what the Gods would decide of fate. “Peaceful… if I dare say.”

“If you were not to speak freely I would not have let my men go.”

“So there is no fear to be had here?” You turned your head over your shoulder. Barely capturing him in your vision, Emperor Geta leaned against his brother’s seat. The edge of the stone resting his body as his eyes traced you against the backdrop of his arena.

“There is no one to fear, my lady,” he spoke.

Emperor Geta was a man you had known for a long while. As children he often sought you out as a companion of play while his father helped prime himself and his brother, Caracalla, for their ascent to the throne. You, on the outskirts of royalty within a wealthy family of semi-relevant status to the Caesar, were allowed in their court as a potential wife.

The status of wife never came but it did not stop Geta from perusing you into adulthood.

It was on nights like these when the clouds floated to cover the moon and the poor laid soundly on the gravel on the outset of the building that Geta felt a need to see you, to have you for himself before the reality of morning came tumbling upon him. Weakened by his thoughts of want and bruised from a victory turned sour, his eyes shimmered in the darkness while the necessity grew.

But you knew the intent.

The one guard, never different from the last, summoning you from your villa with a coded message of: vi et animo, with heart and soul. Descend upon the place where he shall be waiting and when the act is done, as always, the same guard would see you home and little would be said between the next occasion. An invitation to sit behind him at a fight always went unanswered; the feasts in a Senator’s name would go uneaten.

You always had something to fear when a man, whom you had grown to be so utterly conflicted in lust and hatred, reigned unfairness from his palace on top a hill. The shining city of Rome was not what it once was but Geta cared for nothing except what he wanted.

And while you never accepted the invitations beyond these, the jewels around your neck, the ones that hung from your ears, and the pulsing of your heart spoke wonders for the truth within you.

Geta watched as your head turned back around and your hands curled over the balcony’s edge. His fingers rapped against the back of the chair; rings clashing against the golden adornments at the bristle of your objection.

“What summons me here?” You prompted. “Are the others not enough for you? Do they not fill your cup on nights as brutal as these?”

You were not to call the women he sought whores. They made their choices, or, they had none, but their actions did not relegate themselves to lesser. How were you any better than them? With your gold and your home and your money? You believed yourself, on the worst of nights, to be a wealthier version of what they had been subject to but unlike many of them, you let this linger beyond the reasonable time.

“I wish to think you know better than to question the call of your Emperor. You showed, after all.”

“I do not question your wants… what keeps you ticking,” you turned to rest your back away from the arena. Geta admired the wrap of your gown tightening against the stone. “You should be celebrating the conquering. Rome has just expanded. There is a celebration at the palace and yet you are here amongst the prisoners and the animals.”

“And you,” he looked pointedly.

Geta’s makeup was gone from the day. He wore a tunic of red and white with the golden laurels weaved in its fabric. The orange of his hair had gone muted in the dark.

“And me,” you agreed. “You have me here, Caesar—“

“Geta.”

You eyed him.

“Why are you playing a game tonight? You denied my invitation—“

“It is not my place,” you cut in. “I am no wife, I am not a… woman of a man’s delight. I did not wish to be an object on an arm.”

“I could have your head for such an implication,” he warned.

“You wouldn’t,” you affirmed. “No one else would be dragged here to kneel before you so willingly.”

“You want to be on your knees?”

You shook your head at him with a tick. No one would dare to speak to him like you. But you knew it bothered him in ways he couldn’t manifest. The blood rushing through his body—you challenged him in a way only he would allow you.

Geta removed his arm from the back of the seat and stepped down to you. Each step closer and closer until he came to rest directly in front of you and caged you like the animals below. Arms expanding on either side of you; his breath invading your space as his nose nicked yours. You shuddered; back piercing into the travertine not in fear but anticipation.

To be the lover of a corrupted Emperor… you had him in the palm of your hand.

“You speak so freely,” he hissed. “And yet you tremble in my presence.”

In an instant, your breathing had gone staggered. His hands drew into you. Feeling up the sides of your body as he pushed himself on you.

“The tremble is not you. It’s me.”

“I am the only one to make you feel this way, yes?”

His hands roamed freely. Geta’s thumbs rumbled up the fabric of the front of your body while his fingertips hardened against you. The plushness of your skin was melting to him. His nose tipped against your chin to turn your head upwards.

“Your Emperor asked you a question.”

“If I said no,” you breathed in as his fingers groped harder. They cupped your breasts from above and back down again. “What would become of me?”

“I’d lock you away,” he wouldn’t. “I’d see to you myself in the cells below the palace. You’d wear nothing,” you scoffed and his lip quirked up. You could feel his lips change against the column of your neck. “And when people would ask of you, they would not be allowed to see you.”

“So you would not want them to see us like this?”

He let out a low, bemused chuckle. “This is for me, us, to enjoy. But if you imagine the whole of Rome watching us, then please, my dear, listen to them.”

Geta rose his lips to your ear as his hands fell to your hips and then one of your legs. He maneuvered to grip the back of one of your thighs and opened up space for him to fall further into you. You could feel his excitement; the prodding of his want against your clothed self. His hot breath and lips danced across your cheek.

“Can you hear them? Gasping at the sight of you. It is the most beauty they have ever seen. So wet and glistening for their ruler.”

“And what of their Emperor?” Your hand came to clutch the extra fabric of his chest. His heart under your hand was picking up in paces. Beating against his ribcage while his eyes blew lustful.

“They should see their Emperor on his throne,” you commanded.

He dropped your leg and with a push from your hand on his chest, Geta stepped backwards until you pushed him to meet his throne. The seat wide for his liking, he sat upon it and grasped at the loose fabric of your dress at your hips.

“Further.” He pushed himself further back into the seat. Using the small step at the base of Geta’s seat, you lifted yourself onto him with your knees on either side.

“While he’s on his throne,” you let him pool the fabric into his hands and draw it upwards. You sat atop him and relished the way you could feel him grown underneath. “They shall see his weakness.”

“I do not have a weakness,” he growled, one hand clasping the back of your neck and forcing your face an inch from his own. You rolled your hips on him. His fingers adjusted the grip on the back of your neck and he hesitated. “I-I do not have a weakness.”

“Then what am I here for?” You asked against his lips and through his hesitancy, he gazed into your eyes before capturing his lips with yours. You sucked in a breath; cupping his head with both of your hands in strength.

Your fingers raked through his hair with a tug as his lips refused to separate themselves form yours. So desperate in want, he clutched himself on to you and your tongues melted together as one the longer he held you. One of his hands pulled on your dress and moved you forward, then tugging backwards to encourage you to grind above him. You needn’t a command to roll your body onto his.

Where your core rested on him, his erection formed against his tunic. You lined up, dragging yourself along the length of him and back. He pulled his lips away with a tug on your bottom lip. Geta bunched up your dress and watched as your cunt glided as best it could along his clothes. Each thrust painting the fabric a shade deeper he could see even in the night.

He was mesmerized. Entranced by your body—no different than the times he had taken you in the light or dusk of a day. You pussy glistened in the moonlight. Dripping with ecstasy as you only felt the outline of his cock above the thin piece that separated you.

Geta, annoyed the the amount of fabric that was your gown and released it roughly.

“Take it off,” he ordered. You huffed, unfurling it from the ties in on the side and letting it fall to the step below. Fully nude on his throne, his hands groped your ass to kiss you again.

“What of you?”

Geta simply pulled up the tunic on his chest and his cock sprung up in response. “You should know conscience now.”

“Us women do not see the same pleasures,” you meant in the form of clothing being simply. Geta quirked his head to the side and leaned it back against his seat.

He sat an awkward angle but was semi-sitting up with you on top of him. You lifted on your knees and palmed at his member with purpose. Remembering the lines and curve like the stones outside of your home, you pumped him as a grunt left his throat.

“I see that you do.”

“Not that anyone would know,” you snided.

Again, he furrowed his brows. “Do you want people to see? All of Rome to see what a woman of your stature does to me?”

“They don’t need to see, Geta,” you sighed and moved up on him. “If you wish to take a wife, that is already implied.”

“You are far too beautiful to be a wife. You are a goddess.”

“Who can only be sought in darkness.”

“That is when you come alive,” his eyes closed at the feel of his tip at the entrance of you. Moving back and forth along your slit while the wetness gathered to make his intrusion easier. The pull of your walls making room for him as you sunk down to take him whole; the claw of your fingernails into his chest at the sensation.

Your knees dug into the harshness of the chair as its girth, and his own, sent you ascending. Your back arched as his fingertips drove goosebumps along your spine. You started grinding on his cock slowly. Clit rubbing against his pubic bone, gently caressing your most sensitive bit as he gripped your hips tightly. You looked down at him prompting his stare to reach through you. It grabbed your soul and reminded you of all the reasons you kept answering his call.

Geta filled you completely. The stretch of him long and wide, your hands fell back to his knees and propelled you as you bounced on him the best your body could. He trusted up to you as the matched inside of you both struck hot and heavy. The burn of your body, the pulse of heat between your legs grew while the slick of your arousal coated his dick every time you sunk back down.

His hands bruised. They tightly gripped you as though you would slip away into the darkness should he let go. He needed to feel you in more ways than one. The digging of your nails into his skin transposed by the burn of his palms on your waist, hips, thighs, and wherever else they could touch.

“Look at you,” he praised breathlessly. “A God to a King.”

A Venus of Rome.

“My Venus,” Geta cut between his teeth. “Mine.”

His own pace superseded your own. Geta’s hips snapped up, racing a high that hit him like Cupid’s own bow straight to the heart. His pace was parading his strength he did not often show beyond words and measures. Your hands failed you on his knees and forced you forward.

Geta grabbed at your jawline, hand crushing your chin.

“You are mine,” he repeated. “No other man shall have you—as a wife nor lover.”

Your silence maddened him. He was relentless in his mission to send you to the edge. You could barely catch your breath and your chest, naked as the day you were born, rose and fell rapidly as the faint sheen of sweat washed over you.

“Do you understand me?” Geta stopped his movements and your shoulder jolted uncontrollably. He was the only one who had ever sent your body’s muscles into overdrive.

“Yes,” you nodded with his hand still grasping your jaw. “Yes, Geta.”

His eyes flicked back and forth between your own. You were truthful even if you hated him some days.

“Good,” he agreed with his own nod. “Turn around.”

“What?”

“Turn around,” Geta ordered again. “Your Emperor commands you.”

He released your jaw dismissively and let his hands fall beside his legs. You lifted yourself from him with a shiver and maneuvered yourself front facing. The arena before you, the empty spectator seats still viewing you freely in coitus. Geta’s hands roamed over your ass and up your back as you turned. He grasped himself at the base of his cock and lined up his head to you again.

“Come down,” he commanded.

You joined together as one again and you were quick to realize you had no bearings. There was nothing to hold on to, nothing to support you except what little resistance your knees could gather against the harsh seat.

As though Geta could read your mind, he drew you back. He leaned you all the way against him to where you were nearly laying as though on a bed yet still angled as though lounging on a chaise. The new angle pushed his cock to the sweetest pull, pushing against your plush walls and letting a gasp escape you in turn. Geta smoothed the sides of your body while your feet turned under you and you let your weight lay on him.

He ran over your breasts slowly. Nipples long pebbled, he squeezed the flesh and brought them up before releasing them again. Geta brought his head to incline into yours as he thrusted into you once more.

“I see their jealousy. All of them—“ the non-existent spectators “—wanting to fuck a woman like you. If they saw an Empress so bare, so exposed, what would they do?”

Geta’s tone had become selfish. His pace returned to an unrelenting finish. He pounded into you. Each snap hitting your most pleasured spot perfectly as his hands cradled you and his words filled your mind with him.

“How would they feel seeing their Emperor defile the most exquisite creature that has ever graced Rome?”

“They would all wish to be you,” you admitted. His words of praise hit you as hard as his cock. Your head tossed back onto his shoulder.

“Open your eyes, darling. Head up.”

You did as commanded—like any good subject would do.

“This will be yours,” he guided one of your hands into his and brought them both to your bud as the other wrapped around your waist. With his finger atop yours, he helped circle your clit as his end was near.

“This land, Rome, can be ours. Just ours.”

That was, if he would ever be given permission to marry and the match was fixed.

“Gladiators in your name, fighting to see your beauty. Feasts and splendor for the sake of our children…”

The familiar heat in your core began to bubble like the markings of a volcano. You turned your head to his and kissed him deeply at the thought, rubbing your clit furiously with the help of his hand and relishing the way his cock completed your body.

“I will marry you,” Geta reaffirmed as his words caught every second his hips threatened to stutter at his release. “I will marry you I swear to the Gods if it is the last thing I do.”

Maybe you believed him, maybe you did not. Yet you would feel nothing but him and only him and everything he gave you in that moment. The utter devotion and the most raw form of his propensity.

If the night were not already fallen, you saw the waves of Heaven wash over you as the eruption of your orgasm shakes you to the core. The blinding hues of what Venus had brought upon you leaving you gasping for breath. Thoughtless and wordless of promises that carry on with the shaking of your thighs and soft whispers of marriage from his lips. Geta’s own release was missed by you. Mere seconds after your own, he stilled as his hips stuttered into you and the legacy of his spent began to leak beyond where he filled you.

Geta released his hand from your own and rubbed your arms soothingly as you laid heavier on him than before. The wear of your brilliance forging his content sighs. He closed his eyes as your head knocked into his own and the two of you sat there, in the empty arena, alone as one.

“I swear to the Gods,” he assured once more. “I will make you my wife.”

And if the Gods were fair, you would know it to be true. But they have never been fair in the life you knew. So, how could they be true now?

A/N: couldn’t help writing for Geta. The men of gladiator have me in a chokehold. Thanks for reading and while it isn’t required, reblogs and comments help writers the most! ♥️ [not proof read yet]

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

This piece contains 18+ content

Pairing Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary Eddie’s had a long day, but being with you is enough to turn even the worst days into something sweeter [fluff, artsy reader, mild hurt/comfort, smut, 3.2k]

A/N This is some of my favorite smut I've written. Still very much stuck on him.

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It’s much quieter in your neighborhood than it is in Forest Hills. No muffled music or raised voices carry from the houses around the cul-de-sac. Tired men don’t tinker on rusty cars. Unleashed dogs don’t sniff their way through ailing yards that aren’t their own. The only signs of life are cars in driveways and lamplight through windows. The golden sun hangs low in the darkening sky.

Eddie makes a final attempt to exhale the weight of the day away before he presses your doorbell. Not even a second later, the lock clicks and the door swings open.

The smile you offer has him convinced that every butterfly he’s ever seen now exists within the confines of his stomach. It’s as if familiarity and radiance itself exist in the way your lips lift upwards to reveal the glint of your teeth.

“I heard you pull up,” you say. “In case you were wondering why I opened the door in two seconds…” you trail off when you realize you don’t sound as convincing as you want. 

Eddie smiles with a fond shake of his head. The action causes more of his curls fall onto his shoulders. He’d never make fun of you for being eager to see him. Especially when half the people in Hawkins care more about his skills beneath the hood than him as a person.

“Sorry I’m later than I said I’d be,” he says as you usher him inside. “Wanted to grab a shower before I came over.” 

“Didn’t you hear?” Eddie's brow furrows innocently at your question. “I love the smell of motor oil.” 

He huffs out a chuckle that makes you bite your lower lip to keep from grinning like a fool. Then he laughs again, deeper this time, like a funny thought has struck him. But he takes a step closer, cups your cheek, and kisses you. His lips are slow and easy against your own.

When he pulls away, you catch the weariness in his eyes, softened by gratitude as he takes you in. He could’ve gone home. He could’ve turned in for the night. But he wanted to see you too. He needed to see you. 

“Hey,” you say softly. “Everything okay?” 

You reach out to tuck his hair behind his ears, and he lets you. Any other time, he’d shake it back loose with a playful smirk. Tonight he doesn’t. 

He catches your hand as you pull away, and dots a few kisses over your knuckles. Work and playing guitar have calloused his palms. His steel rings glint in the low light of the foyer. 

“I’m okay,” he says into your skin. You remain quiet in hopes that it’ll coax more out of him. “Long day at the shop.” 

You hum. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. Don’t be. 

“Got you something,” he remembers. "Been holding onto it for a couple days." He realizes he’s empty-handed.

“Shit. I left it in the van.” 

You chuckle as he presses another quick kiss to the back of your hand before he lets go and pulls away. 

When Eddie comes back inside, you’re on the living room couch with one leg tucked beneath you. The TV plays low reruns of I Love Lucy, but you grant him all your attention as he settles beside you. Before you have the chance to ask what’s in the brown paper bag, he pulls out a nice set of drawing pencils and a leather-bound sketchbook. 

Your mouth falls open as he passes them over to you, his expression quietly hopeful. Big brown eyes eager for your reaction. 

“Eddie…” 

“You filled your last sketchbook. And you’ve been needing some new pencils." He rests his forearms on his thighs and licks his lips. "Knew you’d hold off on getting them for yourself so I figured..." 

A smile finally breaks across your face.

“These are the fancy kind too," you note as you look over the pencils. "Thank you so much, baby. Really.” He shrugs like it's no big deal even as he bites back the proud quirk of his lips. It was a privilege to be able to do little things like this when he could.

The leather of the sketchbook is smooth as you flip open the cover to run your fingers over the crisp, fragrant pages. 

When you meet his eyes again, your gaze is soft and observant, like you have an idea. It feels like you're seeing straight into him. He's handsome. Long curls, kind eyes, plush lips. Even then, it's clear he still wears the remnants of the hours prior, though he masks it well.

“Maybe I can draw you," you propose with the quiet hope he’ll oblige. “To break everything in.

"All you've gotta do is sit back and relax. We can talk, watch some TV, eat my snacks." He smiles at that last part. 

After the frustrated customers he had to diffuse today, he can do that. Gladly so. 

•••

The warm lamplight and the glow of the TV cast soft shadows across Eddie's face. His long lashes appear heavy with the relaxed way he blinks at the screen. He’s sunk back into the cushions, legs spread just so, hands interlocked over his stomach, rising and falling with his breaths. An empty bowl of popcorn rests on the coffee table along with a hollow box of Jujyfruits. 

Five separate sketches of him now constitute the beginnings of your new sketchbook. He tilts his head to peer over at you when he no longer hears the familiar brush of graphite against paper.

The cushions shift as he straightens up and rubs his eyes with lazy fists. 

“All finished?” he asks, and you nod. “Can I see?” 

When you pass him the sketchbook, his eyes rove over the drawings with the attentiveness of a critic, but void of any harshness or critique. It’s more of an assessment, an appreciation. He pulls his lower lip between his teeth. Raises the book to get a better look at the hatching technique you used to shade the first sketch you completed. 

It’s a straight-on portrait that he’d faced you for. There’s a sense of ease about his gaze. A warmth paired with an underlying pensiveness. He knows he’s being studied but feels more seen than exposed. 

Except, Eddie's so much more than you’ll ever be able to confine to a couple sheets of paper. Charming in an awkward way, with one of the kindest hearts you’ve ever known. Loving him is as easy as blinking or breathing. So natural it feels innate. He feels your gaze as he studies the sketches.

When he redirects his attention to you, he offers one of his steady, slow-moving smiles that never fails to make your stomach flutter. 

“Always staring at me,” he accuses, too lighthearted to be mistaken for a complaint. 

In truth, you observed everyone and everything. But never with the same admiration allotted to Eddie. There were so many layers that you feared you wouldn’t have the time to unravel them all. You’d never wanted to know the inner workings of another person so intimately. 

After a lifetime of slipping through the cracks, it sure was nice to be seen in an unadulterated way by you. 

“Can’t help it,” you murmur.

Eddie tracks your movements as you grab one of the accent pillows and toss it to the floor at his feet. A second later, you drop down onto it. His breath catches when you place two gentle hands on his knees and spread his legs so you can better settle between them. 

"Hope your day's gotten a little better since you’ve been here," you murmur.

Eddie swallows. Sets your sketchbook aside with a jittery hand. 

“It has." His voice is thick as anticipation stirs within him. "As soon as I walked through the door.”

You hum as he squirms, hyperaware of your touch as your hands drift along his thighs. His head tips back when you palm him through the fabric of his jeans. Warmth ignites in his cheeks and melts to his torso as his pants tighten in the wake of his arousal. Along the thick column of his throat, his Adam’s apple bobs with another swallow.

It hadn’t even taken much. 

His legs fall open wider, like a gate, when you begin to unbuckle his belt. The metal hardware clinks with your movements, breaking the hush between you. You pop the button, drag the zipper down. 

“Wanna help me get these off?” A sweet smile plays on your lips as you blink up at him. 

Eager, Eddie lifts his hips, and you help him shuck down his pants and underwear. There's a tent in the front of his boxers when you get to them, and he shifts with the new exposure by the time everything pools at his socked feet. 

Featherlight, your fingertips ghost toward the apex of his thighs, his milky skin dusted with sparse hair. His muscles twitch at the ticklish sensation, and he braces for the inevitable.

Except your touch flutters past where he aches. Bypasses where he strains toward his stomach. Instead, your hands sweep over his hips. Slip beneath the hem of his shirt to scratch along the low part of his stomach where a thin, dark trail of hair leads down to his need. 

His chest deflates on a slow, bated breath. You hide your coy smile in the inside of his thigh in the form of a kiss. Right over the small smiley face inked into his skin. Eddie huffs in flustered amusement. 

“This is—” 

“One of your favorite tattoos of mine,” he finishes with flushed cheeks. 

You grin in feigned surprise. “How’d you know?” You trace your nails back down to his quivering thighs. 

His arousal kicks up when you grant him the gentle brush of your fingertips over the rounded fullness that rests heavily between his legs.

“Sweetheart,” he finally sighs, dark eyes molten when they find yours. 

“Teddy,” you coo back. 

He doesn’t have time to brace when you begin to pepper an alternating line of kisses up his thighs until your lips find the part of him that needs you the most. 

His breath hitches. “Baby—”

A pleasured shudder rolls through him as you kiss up the elegant curve of the thick vein along his underside. You follow the path of his need all the way to the rosy tip, where a wet, gleaming pearl beads in a testament to his want. You suckle it away. Savor it.

Eddie's eyes flutter shut, body taut as you spit over him and wrap a secure hand around his base. The slick heat of your palm makes his hips stutter as you begin to pull upward in a steady tug. At the top, you circle your thumb around the mushroom tip. You dedicate another swipe of your thumb to a slow trace along his slit. 

Eddie is warm and rigid in your hold, beautifully at your mercy, and he knows it. Doesn't mind it. The full hum in his throat unravels into a low, shameless moan when his lips part. 

“Yeah, baby?” you meet his gaze and hold it. Heat pools between your legs. “You feelin’ good?” 

Eddie reaches out to stroke his thumb across your cheek. “Yeah,” he rasps. “Please don’t stop.” 

You wouldn’t dream of it.

As you continue your languid strokes, you mouth at his inner thighs. Kisses, nibbles, licks. He’s so wound up that all of it gets to him. Pleasure tugs low in his gut with a radiance he can feel in his fingertips, his toes. 

With a practiced gentleness, your free hand lowers to massage the velvet weight of him that you’ve neglected. A rugged sound escapes him as he writhes. Even more so when you move to lap him again, this time taking him halfway and working what's left over with your hand. 

You pull away to trace your lips along his shaft, mindful of every inch and the tell-tale shudder that startles through him. You peer up through your lashes to find desperation etched across his features. 

He cups your cheek to get you to pause. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he insists. "Wanna feel you—lemme feel you.” 

You clench around nothing as he encourages you upwards. 

After you shuffle to your feet, you push your lounge shorts down, followed by your panties. Eddie strokes himself, gaze heavy-lidded as he watches. 

No sooner do you move forward to straddle his lap, on your knees with your hands braced on his shoulders. His hands find your hips, but one drifts lower in a curious glide between your parted legs. He graces through your slick folds, then brushes his thumb over your swollen bundle of nerves. He’s gauging if you’re ready for him, but you nearly crumble forward at his thoughtful touch. 

“So sensitive,” he notes lightly. A flicker of amusement dances in his eyes as they find yours. 

“Because of you.” You pout as you reach down and align him at your entrance. 

He catches at your slick warmth and whispers a string of curses. It shouldn’t already be this good. You shouldn’t already be this ready. But both things are true because the two of you have somehow stumbled into your own little perfect world. Both his hands find your hips again as you ease yourself down to welcome him in. Inch by slow inch, every vein and ridge. 

You don’t realize you’re whining until you’ve sunken to accommodate all of him. Eddie runs a soothing hand up your back as you lean forward into his chest in an encompassing haze of fullness. Already, he’s touching that devastating part of you that’s so thoughtfully tucked away. He’s the only one who’s been able to reach it. To find it as if the path had been carved for him alone. It’s a homecoming in its own right. 

“You feel so good,” he sighs the news like it's hot off the press. Like the words can't make it out of his mouth any sooner.

For a brief moment, stillness prevails as you adjust around him. You tuck your nose into his hair, where the subtle scent of his sweet, herbal shampoo lingers. Instead of canting his hips upwards like he so desperately wants to, he lets you have the moment. Presses a kiss to the bulb of your exposed shoulder, then allows his hands to find the hem of your tank top. You move to pull it over your head. He does the same with his own shirt, biting back a groan as you shift over top of him. 

Your nipples pebble in the cool air, even more so when he cups your chest and circles them with his thumbs. The sensation throws you into a shiver that jumpstarts a roll of your hips. Eddie’s fingers return to your waist, a silent encouragement. 

Before long, you leverage the bend at your knees to lift off him, then lower yourself back down. A rhythm soon forms, Eddie’s hips rise to meet yours. His thighs quake as a strangled sound of relief spills past his lips. 

A whimper escapes you as an invisible string pulls you forward to dot a few languid kisses across the apple of his cheek as you continue to ride him. 

“Oh—shit,”  he exhales shakily. “You’re perfect, sweetheart.” He sounds panicked and awed all the same. 

All you can do is hum at his words. Every time you lower onto him, it feels like he manages to reach a new depth that makes you want to crawl away. Yet your hands find his tattooed chest for the sole purpose of feeling more of him, his warm, dewed skin. A shiver shakes him when the tip of your nail grazes over one of his nipples. Spurred on, you pinch the peaked flesh next, which earns you a particularly hard thrust as he groans. A jolt of electricity rushes straight between his legs with the threat of being his undoing. 

“You’re gonna make me come, angel.” The shameless, exasperated way he says it makes you clench around him. 

You lower a hand to rub tight, purposeful circles over the tender bud between your legs, the pleasure sharper in the wake of his words. 

“I want you to come,” you attempt to keep your voice steady as you lilt. “Want you to fill me up. Want all of you.” 

Eddie groans and sags back into the cushions in an air of disbelief. Somehow you’re real. Somehow you chose him. And you’d never led him to believe that things should be any other way.

You lean forward in pursuit of him to kiss his throat, then up along his jaw until you’ve arrived at his bitten lips. The kiss carries the neediness of being on the edge. 

“Always gonna want you,” you whisper heavily against his mouth.  

Eddie whimpers. “You have me.” His thighs tense beneath you as he teeters on the brink. This time, when his hand finds your waist, it’s to ground himself in the intoxicating rock of your hips. 

You kiss him one last time, saliva slinking between you, before you touch your dewy forehead to his. 

“Come with me,” you frantically encourage. “Eddie, please—” 

The broken sound that punches out of him sends you into the thralls of a reckless release. It’s swift and forceful like a lightning bolt zipping from the sky. Your walls flutter around him as pleasure courses in every direction. Eddie has no choice but to let go. He jolts beneath you like stricken earth. His stomach clenches in time with each pulsing wave of release. 

Eddie’s neck becomes your hiding place as aftershocks ripple through you both. Your lips begin to press more deliberate kisses to the space where his neck and shoulder join. Beneath you, he sits like putty and softens within the warmth of you. He’s attuned to every small shift you make. You’re not quite ready to relinquish the fullness. 

A steady, clammy hand glides up your back and settles at the nape of your neck. When you sit up to meet his tired, satisfied gaze, you're struck by a surge of fondness. Of love. If you could erase his bad days, keep them from ever touching him, you would. But you can’t. They’ll come, for both of you, whether you like it or not. 

Still, you had this. Each other. That’s enough to make life a little sweeter, a little kinder. Even on the days that are anything but. 

Eddie’s lashes flutter when you run a gentle finger down his nose. “You okay?” you ask. 

He shifts beneath you, wincing at his forgotten sensitivity. A small smile pulls at his lips as he finally nods at your question, contentment clear in his eyes. 

“Promise?” you ask. 

“I promise, sweetheart.” 

He offers his pinkie as a seal of truth. 

- 

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I promise I see them all!

MORE EDDIE

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[edward-munson]

never have i ever

Summary: You're playing the game "Never have I ever" at Dustin's birthday party and it surprises you when Eddie reveals a secret of his personal life.

Warning: 18+ MDNI, masturbation, oral (m receiving)

Word count: 3.1k

You're only at this party because it's Dusin Henderson's 18th birthday. He thinks he's old enough to drink, so he makes sure all of his friends are drinking too. Except, he's only adept at drinking beer. Not like you, though. You like anything strong. You can drink beer, cocktails, tequila, anything alcoholic.

As you sip on your piña colada, one made especially by Jonathan, you watch as the younger boys play D&D at the bar. On the other side of the table, Eddie is smoking weed with his friends as they watch their friends playing. You try not to be obvious with your glances that are being directed at the metalhead, but you might be failing doing so because of the drinks you had.

Steve is trying to get your attention as he talks about his date, and Robin can't seem to listen to him because she's too busy checking Vickie out. They've been going on dates, but she's too invested and doesn't hide it. He's babbling and rambling, not hiding his excitement, and you feel bad you're not exactly listening to him.

The Hideout was rented just for Dustin's birthday, so you're allowed to listen to whatever you guys felt like. You and your friends are old enough to drink, and you're all taking care of the younger group in front of you. Will doesn't drink and Eleven isn't fond of it. Max is the one along with Mike who likes to try on cocktails and Jonathan makes sure he adds enough ounces of alcohol.

"Okay, you know what? If they're going to play a boring game, let's just play our own game!" Robin says as soon as Steve shuts his mouth

You both ask her what game it is and she seems excited about it. "Never have I ever"

Steve rolls his eyes and mumbles something and you just snort.

It's not like it's a forbidden game, but it sure can be fun.

She gathers every adult, including Eddie, who clearly couldn't be bothered by the idea. His friends decided to stay and watch the youngsters playing. As you all sit around a bigger table, Robin and Nancy spread shot glasses to each one of you, placing a good amount of tequila on each glass.

You don't protest, you like the idea of playing something like that. And it's funny how some of them, like Eddie and Steve, look like they're afraid of doing it.

You nudge the curly haired man beside you and whisper "You seem pretty worried"

He nudges you back and mocks you, shaking his head softly "Nah, just not the biggest fan of these games"

"Okay! Listen. I'll start and the round goes on to the right. Don't bullshit us and don't be soft" Robin shouts from the other side of the table, preparing herself before starting it.

They're all telling off things based on their own experiences, until Argyle decides to be the greatest menace ever. He started saying specific stuff that weren't related to him, rather to find out if people have ever done anything. The tequila shots were smaller so you all wouldn't die from alcohol poisoning.

You started to feel giddy, your cheeks were burning red and every time Eddie would bump his arm against yours, you would feel squirmy in your seat.

"Never have I ever been given a blowjob" Jonathan said and the guys took their shots. Argyle wouldn't stop laughing at this point, but mostly because he was drunk and high on weed.

It took a few seconds for you all to notice the fact that Eddie didn't take his shot and all eyes were pointed at him. He was leaning against his chair with a bandana over his head, so he wouldn't feel hot from drinking. His t-shirt was wet from the drink he missed and spilled over it. From your point of view, he looked hot as fuck.

"What? Yeah, I've never been sucked before and I'm not ashamed. I've barely hooked up with girls before" He seemed unbothered from saying the truth and it took them by surprise.

At least Steve and Jonathan were. Argyle, not so much. They've been friends for a while and they've shared experiences before. Meaning they didn't have many, but the fact no one ever wanted to give Eddie a blowjob seemed kinda off to you somehow.

"Huh, it's their loss" You murmured but loud enough for him to hear you

"What's that?" He rested his elbow over the table and leaned his head against his hand, having your full attention.

Eddie was holding a smug on his face and his lips were curved upwards. He pretended he didn't listen to you, but he knows what he heard.

"Uh– I mean" You blew through your closed mouth, trying to disguise your temptation of complimenting him. "Ah, they're all just stupid for not doing that"

"Really?" He pushes, biting his inner lower lip as he still muses towards you.

As you cross your arms in front of you, Eddie laughs at the way you react to his teasing and sits back straight on his chair. The game doesn't take too long to end, especially when Nancy says she's feeling kind of sick, and Vickie is about to throw up on the table.

You all scatter around, getting up and collecting the shot glasses. You don't feel sick, but you sure feel funny and like you're about to float from the amount of tequila you just had.

As soon as you turn on your heels to go back to the table, Eddie is standing there in front of you, holding a bottle of water. He's still wearing the bandana and it makes him look gorgeous from how the lights are hitting him. Without his bangs, you can see him more clearly. How his eyes are blown from the weed he smoked, the way his eyebrows are perfectly shaped, just like the shape of his plump lips.

You don't think he wouldn't notice, but he tilted his head to the side and gave you a sided smile. The kind of smile you give someone when you're about to mess with them, when you want to taunt them.

"Why are you looking at me that way, sunshine? Something wrong with my face?"

He follows you as you start to walk towards the table and you shake your head, hiding your thoughts as you drink your water. Eddie doesn't even let you sit without pulling a chair for you. He sits next to you, facing you. He crosses his arms and slumps back.

When he does that, your eyes literally drop a few inches to watch how he just sits there with his legs spread open, almost an invitation to what you've been thinking about.

You almost choke on the water from drinking it too fast. He takes the bottle off your hand and closes it, keeping his previous demeanor.

"Okay, now you're just acting weird. What the hell happened?" He sounds a little concerned, but the fact he's sitting like that in front of you doesn't help it.

You shrug, taking a deep breath. You cross your legs and lick your lips playfully before opening your mouth to speak. This small action sends a shock wave through his own body but it lasts a fraction of time.

You pull your chair closer to his, your legs standing in the middle of his. Eddie shifts his eyes to your legs and the way you are looking at him.

"You wouldn't wanna know what it's like to get a blowjob, Eddie?" You try not to sound like you're enticing him, or even provoking him. But the context says otherwise.

He laughs nervously, diverting his eyes from you. He looks at the ceiling and sighs. You see him taking a deep breath, looking back at you.

"What is this conversation about, really? None of the girls I've gone out with would wanna suck a freak off. They just wanted to hook up because I'm sort of famous in town. And I've had sex like two times. So really, don't bother with the subject"

He played defensive, like he was offended. You didn't intend to sound as if you're joking and making fun of him for not having much sex.

"No– Eddie, I'm not trying to make fun of you. You're such a grumpy little man! Come here" You quickly get up and pull him by his hand, following to the back of the bar.

You knew the whole place. You've been at the bar a hundred times and he talked about the back of the bar where he and his band use as backstage. They had set up a few furniture including one couch.

One you pushed him to after you closed the door and locked it. He looked at you terrified but amused at the same time, because he had no idea what was happening.

You sat beside him, resting your arm on the back of the couch. His brows were furrowed and when you noticed how pretty his lips were you couldn't hold it back.

"We're friends, right? You trust me?" You ask, your voice a little shy and your tone a little lower.

He nodded and tilted his head, again. "Yeah, sunshine. If we weren't, you know I wouldn't let you fucking kidnap me and bring me here" He jokes.

It's the way he calls you sunshine. The way he looks tenderly at his friends and how he treats everyone. It's so fucking cute. It's not even the alcohol talking and you know that.

You also know sometimes he throws glances at you, but you know he wouldn't do shit about that. He's too afraid of committing, too afraid of being heartbroken. He just doesn't know what he's actually missing.

And then you laugh like you're embarrassed, your head is hanging low because you can't seem to face him right now. But he pinches your chin carefully, looking right at you. His fingertips aren't that soft and you know it's from playing guitar. They also smell like smoke.

"What is it?" He asks again, pleading chocolate brown eyes staring into your soul. You look back at him and move your face until you're just a few inches away from him. "Oh?"

At first, he seems confused and kind of lost. But it's only a matter of seconds until he's the one taking you in and kissing you softly. He tastes like tequila and cherry from the gum he was chewing. It's intoxicating, it's a mix of feelings for you. He's still holding your chin. He uses the other one as leverage and holds your neck. You're anxious to taste him, literally.

The euphoria hits you like a train wreck when he lets you pull his hair a bit. He tries not to gasp from the touch, and he instinctively bites a small bit of your lower lip. It sends you to a frenzy and your other hand flies up to his crotch. Obviously, he's hard. Not just from the touch, but from the kiss. From how you hold his hair.

Eddie never had a girl hold his hair like that, he barely had a girl that interested in him. And he likes the feeling of being desired, it's different. And knowing you, he feels like he can trust you.

So he lets you touch him. Both your mouths never leave, only adding more fuel to his fire. You notice his behavior and try to unzip his jeans without being concerned about breaking the kiss.

He helps you out lifting his hips so you can get rid of it, trying to focus on kissing him and touching him. You love the feeling of having someone this horny for you. You feel his hardness grow through the fabric and you can feel the dampness already.

"You're so hard for me, Eds" You whisper hovering your lips over Eddie's and he grunts in response.

Your little evil laugh makes him more turned on for you, and his first instinct is to pull your hair, but not with force. He pulls you back a little, enough for him to have a look at you, the way you stare back at him with lust in your eyes.

"You're so gorgeous" He mumbles, his eyes sparkly. When you grip his hard cock tight, he hisses at the touch and closes his eyes forcefully.

He's still holding your hair and when you do that again, he grips it tighter. He's playing your game. Only he's the one getting something out of it. At least today.

You hold his underwear and pull it down, watching as his dick springs free from the fabric. Red tip, already leaking and begging for more of your attention. Eddie doesn't let go of you, only enough for you to start sliding down the couch, kneeling in front of him. You look at him before looking at his cock, it's trimmed and it looks gorgeous. It's already begging for your attention.

The alcohol in your system seems to evaporate immediately. Eddie glances down at you with concerned eyes, like he's afraid you won't do it. But you glance up and nod, reassuring him you will do it, smiling just before you start giving him the pleasure he deserves.

You lick a stripe through his shaft, tasting him for the first time. He didn't know the feeling until then, and it made him pulse like he never did before. One hand holding your hair back and the other one gripping tightly on the edge of the couch.

Your tongue savors his precum until you reach the tip and give it a small kiss. You look at him again, he's trying to hold back his whimpers. You know it's hard for him to handle the touch as it is his first time. Usually something this provocative causes a man to last only a few minutes.

But you take your time, taking his cock inside your mouth until the tip hits the back of your throat. It's not your first time, so you don't gag anymore.

You bob your head up and down a few times, sucking him and the liquid coming off of him. You use one hand to grip his balls, and the other one you leave resting over his stomach. He seems to love it.

He watches you carefully, he looks at how your tongue roams up and down his length, reaching the tip again, swallowing thickly. You feel it pulsing every now and then, precum spreading all over it until you suck it in again.

"Jesus fuck" Eddie moans. He lets out a loud, unsteady breath. His hand is gripping your hair carefully and if you didn't know any better, he's just being gentle when you know he would pull it harder. He was almost melting from the feeling of your mouth. 

You take him back and forth, rolling your tongue around it. You lick his cock down and reach his balls, sucking it until your mouth is full and he struggles to keep his eyes open because he wants to watch it all.

You hold his shaft with your delicate hand and pump him, your mouth helping out with the job. You sank back down lower, taking every inch of him, looking up at him. Your lips slid perfectly around his skin and it made him even harder. He starts to buckle his hip when he glances at you, seeing lust in your eyes again.

Your eyes are blown from pleasure and Eddie wonders if you’re feeling the heat between your legs as well. He wants to know if your pussy is wet from doing all this with him and he can’t help but thrust against your mouth. He starts slowly, until you’re feeling comfortable having his entire length in the back of your throat. 

Eddie watches when you let him fuck your mouth mercilessly, feeling his tip hitting your throat. He can't hold back his grunts, letting his head fall back to the couch. His eyes are now closed and he's in a bliss of pleasure.

The quiet room is filled with the sound of his cock in your mouth, Eddie moaning huskily and you whimpering from your own pleasure. No one cares you're both there, no one even knows you're there. He holds your head and hits his length in a perfect spot that makes him shiver.

He stops his thrusts because he wants you to finish for him. You grip the base of his cock and grip it tightly, letting the blood rush to the tip, and you suck him hard. You hollow your cheeks and suck him hard enough for him to feel lightheaded.

“Godfuckingdamn” Eddie pleads.

It's how it makes his heartbeat fasten quickly and his cock is almost exploding from the pleasure. You know he's going to cum because his legs start to falter and shake. His hand is gripping your hair tighter than before and he's buckling his hips upwards.

It comes with the loudest grunt he lets out. He fills in your mouth and the warm liquid washes over your throat as you swallow all of it. His dick pulses incessantly and you don't let go of him for a second.

Eddie feels kind of drained, but in a very good way. He's still on a high, but he feels relieved. His entire body is shaking, his legs are weak and his hands fall on top of the couch. You take the last bit of his cum and let go of him.

You think it's cute to see his cheeks flushed, painted in red. He's breathing heavily and you can't quite describe how hot he looks right now. His dick is still a little hardened but less than before. You get yourself up and help him get his pants done and sit back on the couch.

Eddie looks at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's seen. And it's not just because of what happened. He likes the thought of kissing you, of having you blowing him. He kissed you without any hesitation, tasting a bit of himself in your mouth.

"That was mind-blowing" He heaves, resting his forehead against yours and you laugh softly.

"You wanna go back to the party?" You ask, getting up from the couch, ready to open the door. But he pulls you back and holds your hand.

He shakes his head, showing off a little bit of shyness in his features. "I wanna take you home and kindly fuck you"

It makes you laugh at how much he can still manage to be such a gentleman when saying something dirty. But you agree to that and you both leave, driving to his apartment.

[multific]

By His Side

Geta x Reader

Summary: You love him. It's as simple as that. 

You.

The only sweet thing is his life.

The only thing he refused to give up or share with anyone.

You knew your husband was mad of course you did. You knew from the moment your eyes met.

Crazy, angry, unmerciful and an emperor. 

But with you, he changed. It was as if he was a different man. It often made you wonder which one of him is the real one.

But you had to realize both were real. 

His loving and caring side was as real as that of the brutal emperor. 

What was worse is that you loved him.

You watched from the sidelines as he and his brother were driving Rome into madness.

And yet, you didn't care.

You loved Geta.

It was supposed to be enough.

"My Sweet Wife," he said as you walked into the palace. He greeted you with a smile, his brother nowhere to be found, thankfully.

"I'm back from my journey."

"How was it?" he asked as he grabbed your hands and kissed your fingers.

"I have found so many beautiful new plants for my gardens."

"If you need more space, we can have a new one built."

"It is fine, I do not need more space, but thank you. I did miss you. How were you while I was away?"

"Terrible! I missed you each and every second. I couldn't find any comfort in our bed. I'm thrilled to have you back." he grabbed your face and you smiled. Hoping for a kiss that soon came.

"How's your brother?" you asked.

"He found a new servant for himself. He has been playing around with him for a while now."

"Do you think it's love?"

"No. I rather say new playthings."

"Oh. I do wish he found someone. He deserves some love."

"Would you do so?" you knew Geta, he shared everything with his brother. But not you.

When they were crowned, Geta made it clear for his brother, they shared the Empire, they shared a home and the throne, but not you.

Never you.

"I love him as a brother. Nothing more. Don't make silly assumptions, Geta." he suddenly hugged you and lifted you off the ground, spinning you around.

You laughed as he placed you down and kissed you once more.

"I'm not sharing you."

"I do hope one day you will change your mind and we can welcome our children." his eyes lit up at the thought as he laughed.

"Now that I'm willing to do." he grabbed your hand and finally walked you to your shared chambers. 

It felt so great to finally be home. Even if you did like to visit other places, this is where you were home the most.

Right by his side.

Taglist: 

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

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

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

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