#Joseph Quinn x You

[pedgito]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐘 | Emperor Geta x reader

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summary | Emperor Geta takes a liking to you but ends up with far more than he bargained for.

author's note | full blame on @hauntedhowlett. also don't look at me and tell me that man doesn't have a mommy kink, he does.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, sub!geta, dom!reader, mentions of spousal/child loss, brief mentions of pregnancy, subtle mommy kink, lactation kink (titty suckin' hell yeah), oral (f receiving), use of sweet boy/good boy, unprotected piv

word count — 4.2k

A widow, a mourning would-be mother—unsuspecting amongst your youthful glaze, the softness in your features as you stare down the two brothers from across the long, crowded table. It has only been a fortnight now, but your face proves entirely unsuspecting.

This meeting was about you—not of your late husband, not of legality or current issues to address, but your qualification to have a spot amongst men. Most were unaware of your puppetry with your late husband and his place in the senate—an older man triple your age that had brought you for a price.

Easily to manipulate, easy to convince.

“There is no place here for a mockery like this,” An older gentleman with stringy, greying hair chirped up from his seat, fist tucked under his wrinkled chin, eyes carefully examining your figure, licking his split, dry lips, “she is young—negotiate a price with her father and—”

“He is dead,” You state flatly, a piercing glare shot down the line toward the spoken male, seemingly ticked by the sound of your voice, expecting submissiveness, “And I will assure the price is one you will never afford.”

Caracalla, as aloof as he was, seemed to snicker at that. A high-pitched cackle that slips from his lips as Geta raises a brow, his mouth hidden behind his curled fingers, opposite hand spread out wide on the arm of his throne.

“I am well versed,” You address both of the emperors directly, “Educated—my husband would be displeased to hear me say this, but he was not the smartest man. I have lost more than just him, but I am not here to beg.”

There was no love lost, fortunately. He wasn’t a good or bad man, only a man. He frequented brothels often, voiced his displeasure when you weren’t serving him correctly, and only forced a child upon you because of societal standards. It was distressing, still deep in your own grief as you avoided the deadlocked stares from the surrounding men, praying that one of the two young emperors would have a soft spot, or even a weakness. 

You would find it, if needed. But, Geta’s amusement was a comforting sign. 

The same man, displeased with your presence, grips hard enough at his wooden cane that it starts to crack, “Better yet, force her to work in the brothel. Plenty of use for you there,” His gaze switches from the head of the table to you, nodding his head with a triumphant smirk.

“As I am sure your wife would love to hear about your visits,” There’s a collective tenseness, both of hands gripping the table and men shifting in their seats, eyes flickering back and forth between the volleying conversation, the dueling man’s face going slack, “do not act surprised, you keep company of men with loose lips, be thankful one of them has died with the rest of your pitiful secrets.” 

Geta clears his throat then, sharing a brief moment with his brother as they nod in unison.

“I will consider this,” He begins, tongue swiping along the inside of his bottom lip, “given the suddenness of—”

“Your highness, do not fall victim to her deception, she is—”

“If you value that head of yours,” Geta’s words are biting, quick, “you will not interrupt me when I am speaking.”

He’s highly temperamental, the dagger he’s spent twirling in his hand for the past several minutes tossing lazily against the wood as he flicks a hand up dismissively, “Get out of my sight,” He excuses them all, aside from his finger pulling like it was held on a string to aim in your direction, “you—stay.”

You’ve just resigned yourself to death, surely.

–

The wine is dark, staining his upper lip as he drinks, clunky rings tapping against the glass of his cup as he passes you off a cup of your own. He had his own private quarters, opposite of his brother and hidden down a long, trailing hallway, an office-like room attached to his quarters.

You weren’t going to defy his command as unsettling as it felt, his glittering and colorful robe dragging against the tile floor as you stood silent, a comfortable distance away. 

Your dress was unbearably tight, back straight as an arrow while your shoulders ached, but you didn’t waver, didn’t slouch. Your breasts spilled over the fabric, barely covered by the shawl draped over your shoulders, signs of motherhood that had yet to dissipate. You cleared your throat, shuffling quietly on your feet. 

“I do not like nervousness,” Geta announces, turning his head over his shoulder as he swivels his body to lean against the edge of the desk—the room was clearly unused, aside from now. 

“I am not nervous,” It wasn’t that at all, rather an uncertainty. 

“Drink,” He suggested, nodding his head toward your full glass, “it will help.”

He doesn’t seem to believe you and you defy his order further, traveling toward him to rest the glass against the desk, hands settled at your stomach as you look at him, his eyes carefully tracking your movement as he sloshes the wine around in his mouth, a fingertip trailing the rim before he mirrors your actions.

“G—your highness,” You begin indecisively, “forgive me for sounding…selfish, but is there something you require? Do I serve a purpose being here?”

“What are your current living arrangements?” He asks suddenly, fingers curled around the edge of the desk, tilting his head in question. 

“I am living under the selflessness of a senator’s wife—though, if he knew, it would not be welcomed with open arms,” Geta is aware of your steadfast gaze, rare that you ever looked anywhere but his face, not the usual roaming nervousness he had become acquainted with.

“Ah,” He chuckles, “If I may pry—well, I am…is it—”

The man who had challenged you earlier with a wife too gracious for her own good.

“Yes, unfortunately.” 

Geta contemplates—he wasn’t against you having a voice within his council, aware that it wouldn’t be well-met, but there was a way to ensure safety and submission; he's learned to mold and shape to achieve what he wants at the lift of a finger. It was a mix of power and practiced manipulation. 

“You will relocate here, to the palace,” He informs, “as an extra measure and because I am fond of your…bite,” His mouth upturns in a lazy smirk, “you will be well cared for here, I assure you.”

A man who was far too fond of his toys, you notice the glint in his eyes as soon as his expression morphs. Greed; he could have everything and even that wouldn’t be enough. 

It was only minimally amusing, his confidence. 

And within a few hours and a few snaps of his fingers, you were set up comfortably in your own room, a pleasant conversation with his less than stable brother and the obedient monkey perched on his shoulder—he was endearing, but visibly paranoid. 

You refuse the help of the servants as you attempt to retire for the night, brow furrowed in frustration as you reach unsuccessfully for the tied string of your dress, resilient and stubborn in your unwillingness for help as you curse to yourself, half a second from ripping the fabric in half before the door to your room is opening quietly, creaking on it’s hinges. 

“I assure you, they are here for a reason,” Geta remarks fondly, the faint fire of the candles lit around your room painting him in a warm glow, softening an unusually rigid man, he approaches without a word as you relent, hands curling around the edge of a nearby chair, his hand working methodically along the knotted fabric at your back, a few minutes passing before he’s tugging it loose, a breath of relief slipping beyond your lips.

Geta takes a few steps back, ringed fingers interlocked behind his back as he watches you expectantly, watching quietly as you turn with your arm clutching the fabric to your chest, hair loosened, your face relaxing into a natural scowl.

“Do you require anything of me?” You ask, curious of his lingering presence but not feeling threatened or undermined—shockingly, he seemed unsteady. Unsure. His confidence failed him for the first time in his young life, “If there is…something you would like to address, I will listen.”

“When did you marry?” An odd start, but you answer with ease.

“Fifteen—he promised my family wealth, it was a simple trade. They died not long after. Tuberculosis, or so I was told,” You shift from one bare foot to another as Geta’s lips pull together in a narrow line, “You know, we are not much different.”

That grabs his attention, his eyebrow raising in a silent question as you approach slowly, arms crossed over your chest now, holding the fabric in place, “Coyness is unbecoming, Emperor.”

“Enlighten me,” Geta replies, his restless hands finding their way over the collars of his robe as he tightens it around himself, joining him near the end of your bed—a strange thing to claim; this entire room, yours. 

“If my math proves me right, we are of the same birth year,” You begin, “—those men, your advisors, they severely underestimate you and Caracalla. They are scared of you, yes. But, if given the chance, they would strike you down without a thought,” He turns his head, blinking away a sour expression, feeling particularly bare despite his state of dress.

Your gaze was powerful, intense, even Geta could not handle it.

“I am trying to say that I understand,” You clarify, tilting your head to catch his eyeline, reaching out slowly to provide a comforting touch, hands curling around his wrist, “not that I understand your role and the burden it carries, but being young and overlooked. I have felt that, I still feel it.”

He’s never been approached so openly—though he prefers the proclivity of men who bow down without question, his psyching was always searching for something more. A poor boy without love, or meaningful relations. You offer a soft smile as he turns his head to you.

“You came here for a reason,” You remind him, “—make it clear.”

His eyes follow the steady rise and fall of your chest, your fingers curling over the rough, coarse lining of the dress as it pushes your breasts up, his tongue trailing along his bottom lip in a wordless hunger.

“Did you plan to force yourself upon me?” You ask curiously, his face flushing with embarrassment, “Or, perhaps, hope that I would be charmed by you?”

“It is rare that I am denied,” He explains, like a petulant kid preparing to be denied their favorite toy, “—but, you are not mine.”

“I belong to no one,” You clarify, “I am not a whore, or a servant. We are…equals, yes?”

“Not entirely,” Geta counters, still donning the crown on his head—more subtle than the formal one he wears around, a delicate band of gold leaves adorned with gems, “but, it seems—”

You smirk slightly to yourself as you reach forward with one hand, plucking the band gently from his hair and tossing it aside to the bed, fingertips trailing down to his chin as you tug his face to look at you.

“You need not put on a performance for me,” You comfort him, his features softening as his eyes flicker toward the crown, “it is as simple as just asking, Geta.”

At level ground, it feels more appropriate. If he wanted your head, he would have it.

Eagerness invades his mind, clawing forward as his palms form to your neck, jaw, lips pressing against yours with impatience, a hum of hunger laying in wait in his throat. For a second, you allow it. Indulge in the simplicity of desire that has been long forgotten, sighing fervently against his mouth before you’re taking grip of his robe and forcing him back, his eyes blackened with lust and his mouth open, blinking with confusion.

“Ask me,” You demand him, “I have allowed so many in my life to take, not this. Not you.”

Geta clears his throat hastily, closing his mouth, gathering the immense willpower it took to listen, comply, “May I—may I kiss you?”

You nod, a grin spreading across your face as he lunges forward eagerly once more, held back by your surprisingly powerful grip, unaware of how your dress had shifted down, held up solely by the body contact against Geta, chest to chest.

It was teasing, taunting him with the ability and control you had over him, lips grazing against his testingly as he laughs too, a quiet and joyous noise as you finally let him have it, arms wrapping over his shoulders as his own hands roam down your sides, around your back and down your side, squeezing a hand at your thigh and bringing it up, high enough that it can rest at his hips, his fingers kneading into the exposed skin near the slit of your gown, toying with the delicate skin that he could reach.

You revel in the neediness, an intense feeling of want washing over you, his nose following the lines of your face as they nudge at your chin, forcing your head up as his kisses trail down, spit slicked lips pressing into your skin, bodies separating as you dress falls, as bare as he under his own robe, plump breasts pulling his eyes down, a slow blink and an instant flick up towards your face.

“Seems the effects of motherhood are taking their time to dissipate,” You admit, his fingers twitching at the sight of them, “If that is an issue we can end this he—”

“No,” He growls, “it—sorry, it is not.”

You reach for his hands quietly, his gaze following your direction as you cup them over your breasts, the heavy weight of them in his hands, the gentle squeeze that would otherwise make you wince but instead has your thighs clenching together. Geta was practically salivating at the sight, mesmerized by the fullness and warmth, his thumbs rubbing carefully over your hardened nipples, a small opaque drop of liquid painting his finger.

You grab his thumb suddenly, shoving his hand away at the sight.

“Despite a loss my body continues to provide,” You explain, “ It is not a lot, but it lingers.I have tried…everything to will it away.”

“Why?” Geta asks, looking up at you with newfound curiosity.

“It is not ideal, you see—”

“Who has told you this?” Geta pesters, watching the liquid drip down his finger before he brings it to his mouth, “I see no issue.”

Your nose twitches in uncertainty, his fingers trailing an abstract pattern into the underside of your breasts, around the side, admiring, “I have always been curious,” Geta admits, his voice trailing as you slowly guide yourself to sit on the bed, the emperor following in suit as he kneels against the edge of the mattress between your open thigh, “did he appreciate your body for everything that it was?”

“He was barren,” You admit, “He liked my mouth on his cock and that was all. He did not care for much else or my pleasure at that, he was much too inadequate anyways.”

He doesn’t address the glaringly obvious admittance—a much longer story for another time that neither of you cared for at the moment, “May I?” He asks politely, his hot breath ghosting over your chest as you nod, his mouth latching onto your skin in an instant.

It starts at the center of your chest, face buried between your breasts as he pulls his robe open, aided down by the push of your hands, his alabaster skin contrasting the plum sheets, his knee rising briefly to push into the sheets as you catch a glimpse of his cock, hanging heavily and intimidating in its size, anticipating of the stretch if you allowed him so far. 

His tongue follows a planned path, along the underside of your breasts and around your nipple, grazing over the pebbled skin with the subtle taste of sweetness seeping into his taste buds as his lips wrap around and such, the faintest push of teeth in your skin as his eyes peer up at you, your brow furrowing in delight at the sudden shock to your cunt, nothing like you’ve felt before.

You did not know pleasure like this, a fair trade. It was a shock to the system. 

He’s looking for acknowledgement, trading off to share the same care to the other breasts, his free hand trailing to the side of your face and under your neck, cradling you with a gentle touch as the hand on your breasts curls around and squeezes, sucking gently at your breasts as his head tilts into your comforting touch, your opposite hand turning as you run your knuckles alongside his jaw.

“Sweet boy,” You praise, “is that what you wanted?”

As if he hadn’t been eyeing you the entire meeting, breasts squeezed together as you leaned daringly over the table to argue with your aggressor, quenching the hunger all day with a steady diet of wine and the assorted fruit placed around the palace, always within reach, watching you quietly. 

He nods slightly, distantly, as he’s focused on his current task.

“Geta,” Formalities forgotten by now, his eyes widened as you stare at him, rising on your elbows with a waiting expression, “have you lost your tongue?”

“It would—it would seem I have not,” He chuckles with a knowing smirk, swiping his tongue around your nipple in a circular motion, “I am pleased, yes.”

He shifts his arms around you, curled fists landing in the sheets beside your head, his cock sliding against the inside of your thigh as he settles to his knees, a fresh flush to his chest as he admires your state of nakedness, trailing two wondering fingers from your chest to your pelvic bone, a slow dance in the low light of the room.

You nudge his hand away, “You are eager,” You note with a fond tone, watching as began to lean into you, eager to capture your lips once more, but your fingers are pressing over his lips before they reach their destination, shaking your head in disapproval, “I have ideas for better use of that mouth, Emperor.”

He pulls back with grin, his teeth dragging over his bottom lip as you filter your fingers through his ginger hair, curling your hand over the back of his head as he bows, settling on his belly with his cock trapped between the sheets, slowly his nose buries into the coarse curls, his tongue dragging down the seam of your pussy.

Geta can only liken it to a taste of the divine, or the closest he would ever reach, settled between your open legs with a mission to please, to satisfy. And for the first time in his life—serve someone other than himself. Normally he would bark at the informality of things, only allow his given title, a strict instruction of a bowed head and obedience, but he finds himself bending to your rule and dropping to his knees, if you demand.

“You have your wits and sharp tongue,” He hums against your cunt, a delightful noise slipping out as you tug at his hair, “I suggest you put them to good use.”

As he does, you find yourself drifting.

He is precise, thorough—which is not at all expected from a man of his status, or any man, really. They were never concerned with the pleasure of anyone but themselves, but Geta has proven you wrong in many ways as undesirable as his ruling may be. 

You only cared for your life anymore, witnessing how delicate it could be when it came to everyone around you.

He likes to watch, too. It isn’t at all surprising, eager for praise he brings you to a quick and intense, but fleeting orgasm. It swells in your stomach, the heat pooling before it explodes, hearing the satisfied groan as he licks you clean, murmuring a shaky, “Good–good b-boy,” as you force yourself to catch your breath, allowing him to climb his way back up your body with the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, both of you sighing into the shared space as your foreheads meet and Geta was completely at your control, awaiting your next command.

“Are things often like this?” You ask curiously, “Is this what you seek?”

Domination; someone to submit to.

In a daze, he shakes his head, lips parted slightly.

“Do you enjoy that I make you feel this way?”

He smiles, sated, nodding in response.

“I want to feel you,” It was a whispered request, his eyes searching your face—again, even just the nudge of his cock between your folds was enough to make you tense and you find your own fingers drifting between your legs, dipping inside of you as he looks down, mesmerized as you guide his hand to his cock, wrapping your fingers around his as you work together in tandem.

When his brow draws together, you guide him inside of you, staving off his impending orgasm.

“Slow,” You instruct, hands traveling to grip his face, nodding his head between your hold, “You are…quite large, I am not used to that,” Geta seems to find a surge of confidence at that, leaning forward greedily to capture your lips, his teeth dragging along the fleshy skin as he angles his and pulls back slowly, entering you at the same pace despite the impatient shake to his body, eager for more, “slow—slow, look at me,”

“You’re obedient,” You praise, “far more than I expected.” 

“My brother likens you to a goddess,” Geta notes, the odd timing sending you into a gentle snort of laughter, “I must say I agree, you are mesmerizing.”

“I prefer Caracalla not be a topic as your cock is buried inside of me,” You retort with a kind smile, his own morphing into a frown of concentration as your knees hike around his hips, encourage him to lean his weight against you as he rocks his hips, a gentle rhythm that is drowned out by the sounds of the city at night.

His itching impatience grows tiresome, gripping desperately at whatever skin he could reach, pitiful moans of pleasure inked into your skin with the silent plea of more—please, more?

“Make me come once more,” You urge him, “and take what you need.”

It was all he needed to hear, taking the opportunity to slip out of you as he guiding you toward your stomach, guiding one knee up toward your chest as he hovered over you, turning your head to face him as he pushed his cock back inside of you, your walls fluttering around him in satisfaction of being filled again. 

There was a perfect view of the sky this way, a small alcove open to the night breeze, stars twinkling against the contrasting colors of midnight, “It is beautiful,” He begins, not admiring the same sight as you, a shakiness to his voice as he pumped his hips at a nearly unbearable pace, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overtook you.

He’s panting into your skin, a feeling you’ve experienced in plenty of other circumstances, with a well-versed ability to separate yourself from your body as men chase their pleasure, but with the emperor, it was a different experience.

A cacophony of small whimpers followed by an utterances of words you’re not sure he or his brother have spoke often, “Please—-please, may I—“

The gravity of the situation flips as you realize your mistake, giving a man with far too much reach and power any type of influence over you, your brain searching for a way to counter his plea as you turn your body, arm wrapping around the back of his neck as he shakes with his impending orgasm.

Words are lost, unable to speak before he’s pulling out of you, the drip of his warm seed coating your skin, the tight grip at your chest loosening in an instant.

Thank the gods, you pray silently. 

“I apologize,” He breathes heavily, bottom lip swollen and red from the mutilation of his teeth, chest flushed bright and burning, “if—if I scared you.”

He uses his discarded robe to clean you up, unthinking of the consequences as he leaned back to stand, fully nude as he extends his hand in wait, beckoning you closer.

“Scared me?” You challenge, curling your hand into his own as he pulls you up, legs bracketing his thighs as your hands come to rest against his abdomen, staring up at the emperor. 

“Your bark is quite frightful,” He admits, “I can only imagine how you would rip me apart had I gone too far,” His words trail, a softening to his voice as he curls his hand around the side of your face, a gentle gesture.

“Would you like that, Geta?” You ask with a creeping suspicion, a smirk spreading across your face, “For me to rip you apart?”

A man of such power, unrestrained and chaotic—shrinks.

Almost too shy to admit it.

“Careful, my lady,” He warns, “I am still a ruler of Rome, such disrespect is—”

“Punishable by death,” You confirm, “but, you promised me safety, yes?”

Geta nods silently, watching the slow crawl of your fingers up his chest before they grab his chin, your thumb smoothing over the dimpled skin, his lips pulling apart in a shaky exhale.

“And I am sure a good boy like you will keep that promise?”

[fawninthesnow]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞: Part 1

𐙚 Emperor Geta x Fem Reader! 𐙚 18+

Summary: You are the daughter of General Marcus Acacius. After an argument with your parents, you find yourself alone in your garden with an arrogant, and peculiar stranger.

Warnings/contains: dom fem, f4m, teasing, pinning, size kink, not proof read

Word Count: 1.2k

More on my Master list!

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Under the command of the twin emperors, Marcus Acacius has been made to expand the army and therefore train new recruits. In the training room, the recruits arrive and line up without saying a word. Marcus notices an unusual presence. He comes closer, “[Y/n].” He groaned your name, running a hand through his hair. You stared straight ahead, ignoring your father. “Gods, why don’t you listen? You need to go home. Now.”

You broke the act, reaching for his arm. “But Father! I want to help!” You held his arm to your torso, “I am capable- “

“[].” The other trainees inside of the room turned to the sound of his stern voice. “I will not repeat myself. Go home to your mother.”

“But it is boring!”

“You are so stubborn.” He picked you up by the waist. You accepted defeat once again as he put you out. He placed you down on your feet before shutting the doors. You were engulfed by a herd of guards while they escorted you home.

Upon your arrival, you had already been scolded by your mother and sent away. She was expecting guests anyway and would deal with you later. You sat on the stone bench of the courtyard, overlooking the city from a distance. You felt as if you were being held captive in this home. Although vines, bushes and flowers blossomed wherever they so pleased, it lacked life. With full honesty, you were being dramatic.

Your parents tried time and time again and convince you that fun in Rome lacked longevity; you should find a husband instead and think of settling down but that means losing the two people who truly gave a shit about you.

At this age, your restlessness knew no end.

“Darling, if you pout any longer, your jaw might lose its integrity.” You rolled your eyes. Your mothers’ guests seemed to always pester you, especially the men.

“That is the goal.” You spat back, turning around to the sound of the voice. “In case she did not tell you, my mother hates when guests come into the garden.” You looked over the young man with distracting eyes and a red toga draped over his shoulder and body.

“Tsk, I am confident she will not care.”

“You must not have met my mother.” You rolled your eyes, turning your gaze back to the city.

“This is a beautiful view. A wonderful empire, no?"

The man stood behind you, his eyes trailed down from your braided hair to your backless gown. “Sometimes.”

“Why so pessimistic?” You didn’t answer him, and instead playing with a soft curl from your hair, “Do you have a clue who I am?” He asked with a scoff.

“No. Now, will you leave?” He laughed, walking around the bench to block your view of anything else but him.

“My name-“

“I don’t care.” The man stepped back in shock. It was the first time a woman of any importance silenced him.

“Listen to me, you minx.” You immediately stood. You were taller than the man, looking down upon him. “…ahem, be seated.”

For a moment, you laughed in his face. “Seated? You must have me mistaken. I do not obey the words of a *child*!” He gulped, squeezing his hands closed. The sensitive nerves in his hips were slowly stimulated; such made it hard to move. “Who do you think you are?” You stepped closer to him, and he moved back. “Some kind of God?” You look him up and down. “God of bundle wheat?”

As you had another laugh, the man huffed, “Excuse me?! I was trying to be kind to you but-“

“No, you listen here, tiny.” You cornered him between a marble pillar and wall. He held onto the ribbed pillar; his hips slightly buck with need. “You dare disturb me, the daughter of the great general, Marcus Acacius! And think you have some kind of power over my actions? Stand up straight!” He gulped as you yelled, feeling like cornered prey. His hard cock leaked precum over the front of his toga, not that you noticed or cared.

“U-u, young lady- I-“

“You’re a mess. You can’t even speak, let alone stand up. Stand up!” You commanded him again.

“You cannot tell me what to do!” He chuckled nervously, looking for a way to escape the corner. His eyes fell on your bosom in his face--

“Are you looking at my breasts?!” His glare continued to flicker from your lips to your sweat-glistened breasts.  He tried his best to hold his erection between his legs, but it was impossible.

“Well, I do as I plea-“ You glared at the short man, your nostrils flared in anger. “No…I was not…looking.” He said softly.

 “The audacity of you men should go into history books!” You pinched him by the ear, pulling up.

“Oooow! Stop! Stop it! Stop it! I am sorry!” You smirked before letting go. He held his ear, “Please do not do that again.”

“What’re you gonna do?” You teased him, poking his face.

“You could get into a lot of trouble if you keep pestering me!”

“Me? Pestering you? Well, karma exists.” You continue to poke at him, “I’ve never met a man so small.”

“I am not *that* short! Watch your mouth!” He bit back a moan as his toga teased his shaft. “Women shouldn’t be this tall anyway!” You tilted your head as he paused speaking.

You stood up straight, holding your hip, “Such confident words but the posture doesn’t match.” As the words left your lips, he stood straight up against the marble. “Look at that, you listen to commands after all. Insecure little man.”

“Lady Lucilla!”

You slap your hand over his mouth and lean in close to him. He squirmed as your breasts pressed on his chin. “Do not…call my mother.” He let out a moan as the tip of his hard cock brushed against the soft fabric of his toga. “Hm? Why are you moaning, tiny?” You look down at the stain on his toga and back at his face. His eyes rolled back, and his eyelids closed. “You are filthy…” He only enjoyed the shame; more precum left his penis. You curiously moved the fabric of his clothes out of the wall. His tip was covered in his own mess. Your hand cuffed his penis, gently squeezing him in your fist. He squirmed for a moment before giving in to you.

You left go of his mouth, pressing your breasts on his face instead. He moaned in response, your hand on the back of his head. “I- I am not filthy,” He whined into your soft bosom, “I- I am Emperor Geta.”

You shrugged, you did not even know the names of the emperors’ names, nor what they looked like. Your father kept you from them. “I do not care, ‘emperor’ Geta.” After only a few minutes, the emperor came over your fist and dress. “Ahg. Taste.” You slip your come covered finger into his mouth. He tasted himself and sucked on your finger.

Part of him could not believe he allowed a woman to control him in such manners; however, a part of him felt controlled by your words, your actions. He stood up and covered himself, attempting to leave. You smirked, “Tsk, you’re not leaving yet, tiny.”  On his tip toes, he kissed on your neck, leaving light marks. He went down to your breasts, kissing them. He gently pulled on your dress, sucking on your nipples gently.

Second part on my Master list!

follow & like pls

[asvtrials]

𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒

Emperor Geta x fem!reader, minors dni!

summary: Emperor Geta was a selfish lover. He expected you to give him everything, every thread of your being, body, and soul. Yet he refused to do the same. Why would he? He was the Emperor and you were nothing but his concubine, not too long ago you were a common whore that he just happen to take a liking to, just a vessel for his satisfaction. So why was his mind suddenly screaming for him to kneel before you, to let your thighs straddle his face until he suffocates? warnings/tags: smut, mention of an orgy in the beginning, mention of exhibitionism, generally ancient Rome things, Emperor Geta tries to act unbothered but is smitten for his concubine, facesitting, oral (f! receiving), p in v, kind of rough, sub/dom dynamics (obviously), implied abuse, potentially out of character, not accurate to the Gladiator franchise...

a/n: This man is consuming my thoughts. This is me basically pushing my pussy drunk Geta agenda. I love the idea of Emperor Geta being arrogant and selfish but caving at the idea of hearing her scream and moan as loudly as that woman. 'Mae Columba' means my dove, 'Corculum' means sweetheart. Also, this is my first time writing this man

tags: @teechallas-blog @ladynoonwraith @quuinyoung @ghostinhours @slasherflickchick @marn13s-vilewhispers @munsongirl48 @getas-empress @hillarymurray4 @cleo-2345 @lookingformuses @meganfoxismywife @claa-01 @funsquadgoalzz-blog w/c: 3.3k English is not my first language. Sorry for any mistakes I make. I tried present tense for the first time.

── ୨ৎ

Your thin tunic provides you with little to no warmth, yet you weren't cold even on this chilly night.

Your Emperor's hand runs up and down your right side, his fingers keep grazing your nipple but he is too focused on conversing with Macrinus to notice the impact of his action.

Your eyes wander around the room, from the people who drank, smoked, and laughed, too gone to do anything other than that, to the numerous naked, sweaty bodies intertwined with each other in the most intimate way that was humanly possible.

Yet there was nothing intimate about what you observe. It was primal and carnal, most of them didn't even look like people anymore, the scene becoming too animalistic and raw.

These types of gatherings were rather common in the Palatine and you have gotten used to settings like this one. But this time you couldn't take your eyes off of two people. Two prostitutes amongst the crowd of moving bodies caught your attention.

A woman sitting on top of a man, on his face… The expression of pure bliss she had looks like it was taken out of a vulgar painting, a carefully crafted sculpture depicting the most euphoric moment of one's life. The man's tongue works meticulously on the woman’s cunt making her scream and moan like she was touched by the god's themselves.

The sight was enough for your breath to get caught in your throat. 

That made Emperor Geta turn with a frown, some wine dripping from his full lips. You don’t notice that his eyes travel the path of your gaze, focusing on the same pair as you.

You snap back to reality when his hand gripped your thigh. If you weren't used to his rough touches you would yelp in pain.

When you meet his eyes, there's something behind them that makes you pause. Without a second glance, he turns back to his conversation, leaving you confused. But you don’t miss the way his hand slides further between your legs, almost teasingly.

It wasn't unusual for him to touch you in front of everyone, be it in these types of events or when the gladiator fights bored him to the point where he ordered you to get on your knees and ‘entertain’ him yourself.

But this time, his thumb merely grazes the thin fabric of your tunic between your legs as his hands grip your exposed thigh. Possessively.

Your mind started to race. Did you anger him? Was he upset?

You are in a room filled with naked bodies fucking each other like animals and it never angered him before when you watched. Sometimes you would even comment how ‘sloppy’ their technique was and he would chuckle. So what happened now?

You lean on his side, sliding your hand to his cheek, caressing it gently. He doesn’t react but he doesn’t push you away either. That feels like a win, an opening.

After being his concubine for so long you learned how to behave around him, how to slither your way out of trouble in case you had upset him.

A little touch here, a kiss there, a plea for forgiveness honeyed with praises about how good he is to you along with some dick sucking usually does the trick.

Geta was an emperor but he was also a man with a very big ego. You quickly understood that as much as it is a nuisance it could also become an advantage.

By the time you followed him to his chambers, it was well past midnight.

He had made it a habit to share a bed with you, not even the guards looked surprised anymore.

He walks inside the moment the guards open the heavy doors. He reaches for his golden belt with a heavy sigh but you quickly stop him. “Let me, my Emperor.” You speak, your voice soft. You quickly approach him and meet his stern gaze, waiting for his approval.

Geta lets go of the belt, letting his arms fall to his sides. He looks spent and tired from the long day but you could sense something else frustrating him.

Carefully, you undo his belt, feeling his shoulders relax at the loss of the heavy material. Your eyes travel up his body before finally meeting his gaze through your lashes but you are met with the same cold look from before. 

You take a step back to settle the belt on the table. You aren’t sure if you should approach him again. You expected him to kiss you, to touch you while you were so close but he didn't do either. He just watched you with a raised brow and gritted teeth.

You avert your gaze, focusing on the detailed carvings of the table ignoring the fact that you had seen it a million times before.

You hear his sandals brush against the marble floor, making you shiver. You weren't sure what to expect, he hasn't looked this displeased with you in a long while.

“Mae Columba” ‘My dove’ he says, his voice barely above a whisper but it still held the authority of an Emperor. “Do you know why you wear such lavish cloths?” He asks, not expecting you to answer before continuing, his voice dropping “Why do you smell as good as you smell? Why do golden jewels hang from your ears and wrap around your wrists? Why you aren't passed around my soldiers like a common whore?” 

He was right behind you now, his arms coming to cage you between him and the table. 

His harsh words forced tears to collect on your lash line. You took a deep breath but your voice still quivered as you spoke. “Because you're the Emperor…”

“Because I'm the Emperor.” He repeats softly against your ear, yet there is no softness in his tone. “Then why do you wish for me to become someone else?” 

“I don—” 

“Lies!” He shouts, making you flinch away.

You don't dare to face him, remaining turned to him as his hands start to wander down your sides. “I saw how you looked at those filthy commoners…you were entranced, my dove” 

“My Emperor I—” 

“Have I not done enough for you?” He whispered, but his quiet tone gave you no comfort. His hands moved to your clothed chest, squeezing your breasts mercilessly.

A small whine escapes your lips, your back arching against him. “You gave me everything, my Emperor.” You manage to say through rugged breaths.

He hums pleased. “Clearly not enough since you wish to see me between your legs like a filthy whore.” He murmurs against your ear.

“No!” You yelp, grabbing his forearms after he squeezes your breasts particularly hard. 

Your thighs meet in an attempt to soothe the aching between your legs. “I promise.”

“You promise?” He asks, his tone dripping with disbelief and mockery. 

“Yes! I promise.” You reply quickly, desperation seeping out of your words.

“On the bed.” he commands lowly and you comply without words.

The bed was thrice the size of the bed you used to sleep in, soft with satin sheets and numerous pillows. A bed that an emperor deserved. You weren't sure if you deserved it, yet here you were, lying on the Emperor's sheets like you did many other times.

He looms over your lying figure eyes rolling down every curve of your body like a wolf eyeing a little lamb. His favorite little lamb. 

The one that he never feasts upon but rather chases around until the poor thing is spent and exhausted and pliant for him to bite all he wants.

Geta’s hands find your ankles and he pulls you to him, earning a surprised yelp from you. He crawls to you, entrapping you between his arms once again.

He melts against your mouth, lips moving harshly against yours, refusing to give you a second to breathe. You cry loudly when his teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“My Emperor” you moan against his rough endeavors but he doesn’t stop, you aren’t sure if he even heard you. He was too busy squeezing your already bruising flesh, not even bothering to remove your tunic.

Red liquid escapes from the wound that Geta so eagerly opened. The metallic taste travels to your mouth but he doesn’t seem to mind, and as much as it scares you, neither do you. Instead, you claw at his back breathlessly repeating your words “My Emperor…Let me show you my devotion.”

Geta studies you, his big eyes making him look almost innocent under the dim candlelight.

His lips open to speak his mind, your spit and blood coating them but instead of speaking, he gently caresses your bottom lip with his thumb, smearing the blood.

What are these thoughts? These foolish ideas that plague his mind? His gaze couldn’t deter from your tearful eyes as he let his thumb run down your chin, the faint color of the blood following along.

You were so easy to break, to tear apart and carve as you pleased. He always did just that.

Yet you always came back.

You didn’t have a choice, he wasn’t foolish enough to forget that. But still, you looked at him with a particular dedication that Gate couldn’t quite comprehend. 

Basically, involuntarily he whispers, letting his palm rest on the side of your face “You’ve proven your devotion, corculum. You’ve been so good…” Geta leans closer, his nose pressing your cheek. He breathes in your scent, fighting the urge to squeeze your face with his fingers.

Your breath hitches when he pushes his thumb past your inviting lips and he feels a moan threaten to spill when you sucked on his digit immediately. He couldn’t uncover any thoughts behind your eyes, only lust. Lust for him. Just like he lusted you.

Why is his breath coming out so short, why is his heart threatening to jump from his chest and into your arms? He isn’t even inside you yet and he feels like he can’t think properly.

You weren’t quiet during your shared activities but Geta was always too focused on his own selfish pleasure, rarely caring about yours.

But right now he feels the inexplicable urge to make you scream his name, to make everyone in the palace know, everyone in Rome, the urge to get on his knees and worship you just to get the blessing of your sounds in return.

Oh, you were sent by Venus herself, there was no doubt. There was no other explanation for his crazed thoughts.

The whine that he brings from you when he pulls his hand away burns something deep in his chest. He quickly yanks at his clothes, uncovering his naked, toned body.

Your eyes don’t dare to travel down but you find yourself on your fours, crawling to him. You press your lips to his stomach, tracing his toned body with your lips and tongue softly, teasingly.

A low growl leaves Geta from deep within his throat as he runs his hand through your hair, nearly gently before he grips your locks. He pulls your head back forcing your eyes to meet his, the sudden harshness causing you to freeze.

“You are an enchantress, aren’t you? You have turned me into a madman.” He mutters softly, his tone almost despairing as his blunt nails massage your scalp.

Looking up at him through your lashes you blink, unsure of what to say. Was this an indictment? It sounded more like a statement.

“I wouldn’t do such a thing, my Emperor.” You say softly.

He hums quietly, eyes falling to your legs and he has to swallow hard.

He has seen you like this so many times, and yet you left him speechless every time. From the first time he had bed you, you had left him speechless. Put a spell on him the moment he pushed his cock inside your warm, dripping cunt.

His mind told him to pound you against the mattress as hard as he could, so that every time your core throbbed tomorrow you would remember how vile it was for you to imagine him, your Emperor, between your thighs.

But his body betrayed him. He leans in, his bottom lip grazing your inner thigh.

“I don’t think you realize what you’re doing to me, mae columba” He whispers, so quietly that you could miss it if your senses weren’t so heightened.

He released a quivering breath before pressing his lips on your skin. You gasp at the action, gripping the smooth sheets. The feeling of your flushed skin against his lips was exhilarating, it was the beginning of something that he wasn’t sure he could control. 

Without a second thought, his mouth starts to bruise your thighs fervently, his teeth plunging into your flesh like you were his last meal before the guillotine.

Your moans and cries fill the room and Geta’s heart as he continues to mark your thighs, his intensity matching a starved wolf.

He wanted more. He was insatiable, he was always insatiable.

With a swift movement, he flips the both of you. You yelp in surprise, as you land on his chest, your legs spread apart. 

His head finds the soft mattress but he wouldn’t care even if it was the hard floor. All he could focus on was your clothed core, inches away from his face.

“My Emperor!” You begin. You weren’t sure what to say, how are you even supposed to react to such a scene?

Rome’s Emperor gazing at you between your thighs, looking as famished as ever.

“Quiet.” He growls, his arms coming to wrap around your thighs. His hands slowly travel up your body, dragging your tunic with his fingers revealing more of your skin.

Your naked cunt was inches away from his face, his breath hitting your soaked folds sending a shiver down your spine.

His eyes couldn’t leave your core, mouth watering at the sight. Impatient, you peel off the dress, revealing your naked body.

It was a pattern whenever you were around him. But this time it didn’t make your cheeks burn about being so vulnerable before his ravenous gaze. On the contrary, it made your chest flutter with satisfaction as you lay on top of one of Rome’s brutal Emperors.

No warning was given to you before he harshly pulled you down to him. His tongue lays flat against your pussy, emitting a desperate sound from you. Soon enough he was lost in the feeling of your wetness.  There was no point in fighting your spell anymore, he was already hypnotized. 

Your eyes can’t leave his face. The way he loses himself so eagerly forces your breath to become shallow and desparate.

His tongue laps on your cunt sloppily, and your juices run down his chin though he never wavers, not even for a second. His mouth worked against your folds like he wanted to consume you whole, to drain you of your essence.

“Gods!” You moan loudly, throwing your head back. “My Emperor!” You cry out.

He whimpers against your pussy, he fucking whimpers. You aren’t sure if you can hold on much longer after that. It seems like any fear or shame you had abandoned your body because you start to rock your hips against his face, his nose brushing against clit with every move.

“I can’t take it anymore, my Emperor—” you gasp, your body trembling uncontrollably.

He grabs your waist, his nails digging into your skin possesively. He pulls you even closer to him, if that is even possible, his tongue running over your folds callously.

Your climax came to you like a violent wave, your body shakes violently after your release. Geta doesn’t stop though, his tongue collecting your fluids even if you jolted and whined.

He only stopped when he had nothing else to take. Like always.

You fall to the side, your mouth agape as you pant frenziedly. Geta isn’t looking any better, his slick-covered lips are parted slightly and his chest rises and falls rapidly.

“Gods…” You breathe out.

Geta finally finds his strength again, moving to position himself above you. His burning body pressed against your side, his lips brushing your temple. “Where the gods between your legs, corculum?”

“That’s what it felt like” You whisper and he fought the urge to smirk. 

“Turn around.” He orders lowly, the playfulness draining from his voice.

With all the strength left in you, you comply, turning around to lie on your chest. You gasp when the Emperor effortlessly lifts your thighs off the mattress. 

You whine at the feeling of his hard cock brushing against your dripping cunt. 

With one forceful push he’s inside your tight walls and you scream. Your nails rake at the satin sheets as he grunts at the warmness that envelops his cock. “You always feel so good, my dove. Like you were made for me” He groans, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

“P-perhaps I was” You moan, the sound muffled by the sheets, your eyes nearly rolling back.

He sneers lowly. “Always know just what to say. How to bewitch me with your words…”

You yelp when you feel his hand clutch your jaw and pull you backward. Your back slams against his hard chest. He draws his hips back making you whine at the feeling of his dick slipping away before slamming it back inside. He did it again and again until you were crying and clawing at his hand.

“My Emperor!” You cry out and if it wasn’t for his strong hands you would’ve fallen forward.

His cock hits you so deep, so good you can’t help the tears that run down your flushed cheeks and the lewd cries that fall from your lips still they aren’t nearly as lewd as the wet, sloppy sounds that follow after every intense thrust.

His own grunts are so loud against your ear that you swear you can come from the sounds he’s making alone. It was never this intimate with Geta, so close. He usually pushes your head against the pillows and fucks you into the mattress like an animal. You rarely see his face or hear his sounds other than the harsh words he spews at you.

Your back arches at the harshness of his thrusts, and your head falls on his shoulder. His hand slides down to your core. You feel his smirk against your ear when he flicks your clit and you flinch.

“Geta!” You scream his name as you come for a second time for the night, your voice hoarse from all the screaming.

If your brain wasn't mushed from pleasure you would slap a hand over your mouth, bracing yourself for his palm landing on your cheek.

He grabs your face and turns your head to face him. The moment your eyes meet you know there won’t be any repercussions for your defiance. His pupils are so blown to the point where you couldn’t locate the light brown of his iris. He pulls you for a heated kiss and with one last, mind-numbing thurst he spills his seed deep inside you.

He falls forward and pulls you with him. You fall on all your fours, his chest falling flush on your back. You whimper when his cock moves inside your overstimulated pussy with the movement.

Geta’s breath was hot against your shoulder and his hands squeezed your waist occasionally, seemingly without noticing.

“My Emperor,” You breathed out. “Forgiv—”

“Quiet.” He rasped, silencing you immediately.

He threw the both of you to the side, pulling you closer to him by the waist.

That day Geta, with his dick deep inside you, realized two things. That you have probably enchanted him and that he didn’t care one bit. 

Because if being bewitched meant that he would spend his living days between your legs, getting drunk on you, then he would gladly do it.

[sacklerscumrag]

Metalhead Next Door

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Notes: hello :) i got the sudden urge to write for eddie munson today for some reason lol

i'm apologizing in advance for how bad it probably is. please keep in mind that i havent written anything in a long time, let alone for eddie

but if you do read it for whatever reason, thank you i love you im giving you a big kiss rn <3

Warnings: neighbors to lovers, jealous!reader, pining, oral sex (f receiving)

Word Count: 1.4K

A loud rumble from a run-down truck rang outside your trailer window, jolting you from sleep. The book you abandoned some hours ago slid off your chest as you sat on the bed to peek outside. Snow continued to fall and hardened on the window sill from earlier that morning, each flake a silent whisper against the palm of your hand as you held it out in the icy air. Metal music blared through the familiar window across from yours, drawing your attention toward the warm glow coming from inside. An overpowering scent of weed lingered between the two trailers—something you'd found comfort in within the last couple of months of living next door to the Munsons. Of course, you'd heard the rumors where Eddie was concerned, and you'd have to be blind not to see how people treated him around here. Everyone ignored him, wrote him off as a freak while telling the tale of the long-haired devil-worshiping drug dealer to anyone who would listen. But after almost a year of living next to Eddie, you realized that couldn't be further from the truth.

The first night, Eddie crept up on your front porch when you weren't looking, making himself comfortable on the wooden staircase, offering whatever joint he was nursing��all leather jacket and wild hair with a grin that could warm you to your core if you let yourself admire him for a little too long. Since then, you'd meet Eddie outside once everyone had gone to bed and let his wild D&D stories carry you through the night. The world around you seemed to soften around Eddie, swallowed up by the relentless comfort of his presence. Even when he was gone, one last tiny blaze of warmth and light continuously flickered in your chest for him.

The night air was crisp, making you cling to your blanket that much tighter as you curled up in bed. You nearly jumped when you heard a thump against your bedroom window, a snowball crumbling as another landed against the window pane.

"You're not gonna make me wait out here until I freeze, are you?" Eddie's voice trickled in from outside, making you smile before quickly opening the window and letting him climb in. "It's fucking freezing out there. Hey, sweetheart." Your heart warmed at the nickname as he brushed past you, flopped down on your mattress, and picked up your abandoned book. His hair looked like he'd run his hand through it far too many times today; the snow still crunched as he crossed one boot over another as scattered icicles clung to his jacket's leather and denim patches.

"Well, it's no D&D book, but-." Eddie teased before you cut him off by snatching the book, placing it on your bedside table, and settling beside him. He smirked, clearly pleased with himself for getting to you so quickly.

"So what's new with you, Munson?" You said as you sank next to him, sneaking glances whenever he wasn't looking.

"Same shit, different day. I learned a new Metallica song last week, gonna play it at our gig."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll play it for you sometime." You smiled at that. "Oh shit, I was supposed to call Dustin." Eddie dramatically sat up on your bed and sighed.

"Dustin? Was it important?"

"Yeah, sort of; he's been trying to set me up with this girl. Or was it Steve setting me up? All I know is I went out with her last week, and now I gotta be at Family Video tomorrow at 6 to pick out a movie for whatever the fuck a double date movie night is." Your heart sank. Eddie was being set up; he was dating someone. And it wasn't you. Figures. He would never see you as more than a friend; all you ever did was hang out and talk about D&D; he could do that with any of his other friends. This shouldn't surprise you, but that didn't make it sting any less than it did.

"Hey, you okay?" Eddie noticed your silence amidst his rambling. You were seemingly lost in your thoughts as you toyed with your fingers. Something had shifted; your warm presence from just a minute ago felt frigid and distant.

"Yeah." You wiped the tears welling in your eyes and stood from the bed, suddenly needing to put as much distance between you as possible. "Just tired, I'm just gonna go to bed." The mere thought of Eddie snuggling up on a couch with some girl made your chest feel like it would cave in any second. You quickly turned toward your window to open it, unable to face him without fear of bursting into tears.

"Sweetheart, if I did something to piss you off, I'm sorry."

"You didn't just please…I want to go to bed." Your tone was firmer than Eddie had ever heard from you. He should go, head out through the window, and call it a night. But he couldn't. "Please." Your voice slightly cracked, and with it, a piece of Eddie's heart at the realization. When you managed to turn around, his chest was inches from your face, tenderness filling those big, brown, beautiful eyes darting back at you. His ring-clad hand cupped your cheek, skimming over your skin delicately like you would break under his touch.

Before you knew it, your mouth was on his. Your arms around his neck; he tasted like cigarettes and mint from the gum he anxiously chewed before you came in. It was intoxicating. Chills spread across your skin when his hands slid across your waist, pressing you closer to him. It didn't take long for Eddie's need for you to become apparent with feverish hands pushing you back until the desk bumped against your ass; Eddie tapped your thigh to signal you to sit on the hard surface, standing in between your legs and trailing his lips down to your neck and chest. Your hands tangled in his curls, breathing in as much of him as possible before he pulled away slightly.

"Eddie." You paused, studying his face for a moment; face flushed, hair tussled, and lips swollen and pink from your own; he was perfect. "I'm sorry. I should've told you how I felt, I-. Eddie's lips interrupted you with a searing but brief kiss as he spoke against your lips.

"Don't you dare apologize. I've been waiting so fucking long for this." A smile spread across your face, and relief flooded your chest. You tugged on his vest to draw him back to your lips as his hands began to knead your thighs, core clenching at the feeling. Whimpers escaped you from just his lips on your skin. His mouth worked its way along your neck, lifting your shirt and continuing to work his way down until he was kneeling before you.

"Can I?" You nodded as Eddie's ring-clad fingers hooked onto your shorts, pulling them off and discarding them on the floor along with your underwear. He hooked one leg over his shoulder and kissed the delicate skin of your inner thigh. "God, you have no idea how bad I've needed to taste you." Your breath hitched when you felt his tongue begin expertly working along your folds, then back toward your clit. It wasn't long before he slipped a finger inside you, then another. The chill of his rings pressing on your most sensitive spots as he plunged them in and out of you had you arching your back and squeezing your thighs tighter around Eddie. Your chest heaved; every whimper and moan that escaped was like music to his ears. Eddie consumed you like a man starved; it was like the more pleasure he drew from you, the more he wanted. He couldn't get enough. He teased your clit between his lips and began to suck hard. Eddie's movements were relentless. Your eyes screwed shut, and your core tightened until it snapped. Eddie's hand dug into the flesh of your hips to hold you in place as you squirmed against him until you were practically pushing him away. He could see the blissed look on your face as he stood and wrapped your legs around his waist, carrying you over to bed. Once you were settled, Eddie stepped toward the still-open window.

"Don't go," you whispered; a pang of fear hit you. Eddie smirked to himself before shutting the window securely, throwing his jacket on your nightstand, and crawling in beside you.

"Don't worry, sweetheart." He placed a kiss on your forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."

[musedblues]

AMORE ~ FATI (part 1)

a/n: wait until the movie? nah. haven't stopped thinking about this freaky fucker since the trailer dropped! eat up, babes. also the horny police called and there is a warrant out for my arrest.

description: after winding up in a crime related to the royals, geta strikes up a deal with you.

warnings: down right hoe shit, sexual descriptions, gruesome descriptions, minimal historical research/ distant memories from high school test, cliff hanger. MINORS DNI

Part 1 of 2 (at least)

///

The afternoon was like any other, the day your life changed. You awoke to an empty home, gathered your cart of crafts, and headed to the stalls. You sold your paintings there and begged the clouds to cover the swelter of the sun.

For your landscape art, you accepted coin. You accepted food. You accepted a jeweled ring that afternoon, just as well. An exchange like it wasn't out of the ordinary. You pawned the adornment for cash that evening, and made the trek back home. With plans to paint pictures into the night, to sell off the next day.

Your home was quaint, once big enough for two, now only you haunted the halls. The man you'd once been forced to marry had been dead for many months now, and a certain freedom was found in his absence. But a certain monotony about your routine seemed to predetermine the days ahead as far as you could see them. So, you painted.

As you fiddled with brushes and stained your grey dress with speckles of deep amber, a bursting knock came across your door. The guest gave you no time to greet them before turning into an intruder. Two royal guards burst into your home, shouting and grabbing you and dragging you away. All so quickly.

You went fighting. You cursed as they held you in a carriage. You demanded their silence broken. But they remained stone faced as you begged to know why you'd been abducted from your home. 

Your captors rode into the city, past the colosseum, right through the gates that led to the home of the reigning family.  Your heart hammered in fear, knowing what you knew about the rulers. Caracalla and Geta had only just taken over the reign of their father, their mother looming near, picking sides; as you understood. Since the change in leadership, Rome hadn't suffered en mass. But a growing dread hung heavy over the population, knowing the brothers were struggling to join together in power. Knowing their clash divided not only their power, but all of Rome.

You were grabbed at once more, forced out of the carriage and into the great hall of the estate. Gold and red statues lined the entrance. A plum rug stretched before your feet, a welcoming cushion as the rest of your senses were drowned by harshness. Before you, pacing near his throne, Geta waited. 

You'd seen him and his brother before, trailing behind their father at rallies. Lingering near the stands at games. You'd always let your gaze settle on Geta, if ever you'd seen him. You'd always been drawn to gawk at the trimness of his figure. The enigmatic expressions he would pull. The presence he commanded. He was easy to admire, from afar. And the towns ladies often gossiped of how alluring he could be up close, if they were lucky enough to be invited to do so. No one spoke as much of Caracalla. In his name, fear and loathing often followed.

With a glare in your direction, Geta ceased pacing. He nodded toward his guards to relinquish their hold on you.

"What is all this?" You demanded, refusing to bow or humble yourself before this ruler in anyway. How could you dare offer up respect when little to none had been offered to you? Geta seemed taken aback, for a flash. His brows furrowed and his lips parted in shock, at your boldness. But then a grin flickered across his lips and his pacing started up once more.

"You're in possession of something of mine, no?" Geta alluded. Want as you might've to argue, to proclaim your innocence, you were too baffled. What could he possibly be on about?

"You were seen taking a ring as payment today, at your stall." Geta boomed, voice filling the room, echoing off the tall painted ceilings. He started into a story, then, that made things clearer. You learned that ring was a family heirloom, stolen by a servant only one night ago. That he'd sold it to a carriage driver for freedom. You learned that servant had been slain. But the ring was still gone. And you were the last person seen with the distinct bluish jewel in your palm. There were many a shopper along the street market this morning. Several were looking into your stall as you accepted the ring for payment. You couldn't deny the action. But you didn't have it any longer, anyhow.

"I exchanged it for money. With the sellers near the river." You decidedly conceded. "I've got nothing more to do with this now release me." Your voice shook, out of fear for your fate, and anger for your circumstance. 

"Names." Geta stalled his meander, a few steps away from you. His dark eyes had cast across your figure before boring right into yours. You couldn't look right at him without feeling a shiver up your spine. And you were not about to let on that Geta had this effect on you. So, you cast your gaze to the hands at his sides, and scoffed at what you saw.

"Why? Are the rings already on your fingers not good enough? You cannot be allowed to want for what you don't have, if you're in possession of more than enough already."

"What's mine is mine! No one else's." Geta yelled, keeping his eye's boring into yours. His voice shook through the halls, and fueled your rage further. Your rage for your circumstance, and for that of this nation.

"Your greed shall poison this empire." You spat at the man.

"An empire I was born to rule cannot be soured, destiny has been at work since my conception and my father's before me." Geta grinned, an all-knowing sort of smile that was meant to belittle you, you were certain. But you couldn't be made to feel so worthless.

"We are all born to die, your highness."

"Your opposition will result in bleakness if you do not answer my call for this information. Give me their names." Geta shouted, still inches from you. Geta was giving you a chance to answer. And that shocked you. You voiced your opposition only because you thought you were surely moments away from being killed, and refused to die without standing your ground. But here you still stood. Geta was letting you. 

As taken aback by his patience as you were, his arrogance and demanding shouts were only deepening your desire to withhold. To stand resolute. Who were you to ruin some poor people's lives over a bit of jewelry? Your silence was deafening, each passing moment tensing at Geta's shoulders. You watched his jaw clench, you watched his eye's dance between your own. You smiled. 

"Get her out of my sight." Geta hissed, waving his men to capture you once more. You rolled your eyes as they grabbed at you. "Keep her in the cellar until she starts talking. Do not, however... take drastic measures."

You shot a perplexed frown the rulers way as he shook his head in your direction. A scowl turned Geta's lips down. But as he watched you begin to growl in unwillingness to go, his smile curled to life.

"And what of you? What punishments are you allotted?" You yelled as the guards dragged you away. Geta kept his furrowed smirk pointed at you, a puzzled sparkle in his eye.

///

The cellar smelled damp as it felt, your feet squelching along the dirt paths. You'd been taken past a row of prisoners, all in various stages of wither. You closed your eyes too them, offering silent prayers for their fates in passing. 

"In you go," A guard shoved you toward the back of a small cell, chuckling as he locked the barred off door. "When you're ready to talk, we just might be around to listen. Let's hope we don't forget about you all the way over in this corner."

How had you ended up here? Hours ago, you'd been at peace in your quiet cottage, paint brush in hand. Now you sat on a wooden bench, senses filled with cold. How were the gods so cruel? Why did you have to accept that stupid ring? Why didn't you admire it longer? Maybe you would've found evidence of its owner, somehow, in the royal gleam of the thing. Maybe you could have returned it with honor, the promise of your home awaiting you. But none of that was happening. Now, you were unsure of everything. But you weren't going to go down without a fight. You weren't going to rat out the innocent fellow you pawned with, for simply surviving another day of this confounding life. You weren't eager to play into the rulers demands for more, as if he didn't have enough. As if he deserved to be granted assurance when himself and his brother offered Rome none.

Hours must've passed. Guards floated by time and again, jeering at you through the bars of your cell. As they passed you by, the voices grew louder yet, giving other prisoners hell. You heard shouts and screams. You heard begging for torture to cease. You heard the stabbing of flesh and the gurgle of blood. You heard the quiet from your own cell. Why were you being spared of such treatment? Why was your confinement different from the others?

As you began to question your own sanity, and the fate the gods had in store for you, a guard was passing by your cell once more. He stopped there, jamming a key into the lock. This was it. Your turn had come. You braced to be berated as the man reached in and yanked you to stand. The guard demanded you to follow as he dragged you through the cellar the same way you'd come in.

Suddenly you were in the great hall again. The purple carpet like clouds under your step. There were servants arranging decor as if an event were to be taking place soon. Your observation of the hall was short lived as the single guard dragged you up a marble staircase. The home was vast, and full of well painted statues and portraits and windows. The sun was long gone from the sky. It had to be later than midnight. As you soaked up your surroundings and let your imagination run wild, you tried not to worry how you'd be executed. You tried to remind yourself that death waited for no one. You tried to remember the last picture you'd been painting, a field of sheep under a setting sun.

Your captor stalled before a great carved door, twisting the handle. Your captor dragged you inside. 

Candles lit a room with a bed in the middle, the biggest you'd ever seen. The amber glow of the space was welcoming, despite the terror that resided about your situation. Beyond the bed was a table full of wine, bottles of all sort decorated the clothed stand. Before the table, was Geta. His slump on a stool shifted when he saw you. Moving to stand, the man dressed more scarcely than before was slow to approach you. His expression unreadable.

"Leave us." He demanded, pointing the guard to exit the room. The man's parting left chills in his wake. What was to become of you now? What was this all about?

Geta did not stay still at your front. He instead let his head roll from one side to the other as his pace turned back toward the cloth covered table. Among the bottles of wine were a scattered few chalices. He filled one with a drink. And then another. 

"We caught the carriage driver who initially accepted the ring." Geta announced, back toward you all the while. You admired the tone of his shoulders, as one was left uncovered by his robe. The cloth stayed tied among his waist. "We also captured the man you pawned the ring off to. We have the ring." Geta continued, bringing both cups of wine over to where you stood. Ah, so poison was to be your execution?

Accepting the chalice in a fist, you stayed silent all the while. Geta locked his tired gaze on yours and kept talking. 

"The ring was my fathers. Something he left just to me. Caracalla was given finery as well, just for himself. We do not do well with equity, my brother and I." Geta raised his wine for a sip and kept his dark gaze locked on your own. His eye's were red from lack of sleep, it seemed. His eyes were bright, all the while, as they peered into yours. This leader had a way of drawing you in. This leader had a way of making you forget you were probably on the verge of slaughter or worse.

"And while this mission to hunt down the ring has been my mission alone, Caracalla's wrath has still been promoted since he learned something of our fathers had gone missing." Geta explained. 

"What's become of the carriage driver and the man I sold your ring to?" You dared to wonder. 

"The servant was killed as you know, by Caracalla's own sword. The driver has been exiled at my command." Geta said. "But the man you sold it too was killed as well, by my brother's guards. Before I could get to him. You see my wrath is often equal to Caracalla's. But my bloodlust isn't as insatiable. And I can see his way of violence has stirred fear among our people. Would you agree?"  

You had to nod. 

"I do not wish death upon you. Blood should only be shed in battles and in honor. You were a simple moving part. You should not deserve to be killed in the crossfire. But you should pay for stumbling where you dared not have stepped. Otherwise, Caracalla will catch wind that I let you slip away without a punishment. And he will do worse."

"So, what is my fate?" You wondered, clutching the wine in your fist, unmoving. Mind whirring. Had you really been shown a backhanded kindness by the ruler you'd always believed to be more unyielding? His already alluring nature becoming more attractive as you understood this to be true.

"Exile seems drastic, yes. But it's an option." Geta raised his glass to gesture, moving to pace before a cushioned chaise. This room, his room, wanted for nothing. There was space and comfort and treasure promised throughout its expanses.

"Then there could be a fine. You'd be meant to pay every fortnight." Geta reasoned drinking once more. Still not entirely trusting of your own wine, you rested the chalice on a nearby chest, crossing your arms with a scowl. As if this Empire needed more money. 

"I'm too poor to keep that up." You spat, expressing displeasure in your tone. Geta raised a brow and frowned when he realized your implication, how much work needed to be done for the betterment of the population. With a sigh, Geta cast his gaze about the room. When his pace turned naturally closer to you, his eye's locked on your face as a realization dawned across his. Geta let a smirk hint at his lips as his dark eyes glanced into yours. 

"There is... another way..." Geta implied something you didn't see coming. As the man continued his languid back and forth, his gaze stayed ever fixed on your figure. And you hadn't really been ashamed of the glances you'd stolen of his, this day. He was drawing closer, as if to entice you. He didn't need to know that it wouldn't have taken much seduction. He didn't need to know that you'd already been wondering what it would be like to untie the robe at his waist.

Geta didn't need to know that you were becoming less wrought with terror by the second. You'd hoped he'd never known you were afraid, before. But now, in the flickering candlelight of his lavish room, you saw him. The persona Geta had put on all these years, all this time, was just that. You could see plain as day. Geta was full of anger, yes. But he seemed full of so much more, to you, now, too. The man seemed to hold a brewing mixture of depth about him that felt so obvious all of a sudden. Now, more endeared to the ruler, and just as attracted, you made up your mind.

"Seeing as I have no funds... let's just get this over with." You sighed, feigning impatience for the wrong reasons.

Geta circled you, eyeing you up. You wanted to melt under how hot his gaze was. But right now this was all happening far too slowly. Your interest had skyrocketed. But your time had also been heavily wasted here. You had plans, after all. He'd held you captive long enough. 

"Sit down. I'm tired of waiting." You barked at him, shoving his shoulder so he collapsed into the chaise. Geta fell seated at your order but looked up to you with an irate sneer. An anger passed over his expression but morphed into curiosity in a blink.

"Seeing as to how I'm getting what I want out of you, I don't mind giving into your demands." Geta announced, as if to remind you he was the one calling the shots. You couldn't help but grin, struggling not to roll your eyes at the man's obsession with power. Humming so he knew you heard him, you settled either knee at Geta's sides. 

As the ruler's fingers reached to grab at your hips, your day flashed before your imagination. Funny how life worked. How days could be spent so monotonously for so long only to become upturned and scattered about the next. You never imagined you'd find yourself straddling one of Rome's emperors over a payment for your latest painting. 

Geta's kiss surprised you. Not the fact that it was bruising, and harsh. But the fact that it was. You assumed this would go quickly, without much effort put into anything besides a quick and vulgar shagging. Granted, his lips didn't press into yours longer than a couple minutes, before his teeth were digging into your neck. But the way his hands wandered to grab at your limbs and claw at your skin was a welcomed affection you had not expected. 

When you finally got to untie the robe around his waist, you couldn't help but admire the build of his core, the shape of his figure. You'd heard girl's oggle over the emperor before, he was no stranger to trysts of most kind. You'd heard girl's trade deadly details of their nights spent with Geta, his lust unbridled. But the sight of his body bare before yours was better than any rumor you'd caught wind of. 

As you lowered yourself into Geta's lap, he was quick to rock his hips against yours with force you had been bracing for. His grip on your hips threatened to turn you over, but you'd be damned if you let him gain complete control. You rose a hand to the man's head, raking a set of fingers through his hair. Your fingers curled to grip with perhaps too much gusto, and your hips rolled to force Geta back, more fully seated. 

You heard the man let out a hoarse curse as his grip lightened, as he accepted your dominance. Did this really count as payment if you were getting more out of it? 

Geta pushed you away when it was all said and done, a steady hand stayed holding your side as he nudged you off of his lap. You maneuvered to stand, adjusting the skirt of your dress with a sigh.

"I suppose I should thank you for sparing my life. Surely thought you'd take it. Shame our exchange has come to an end. Didn't quite feel like a payment at all." A daring smirk painted your face as you turned to head for the door. You heard Geta lumber to stand, perhaps drunk off wine and pleasure. His feet padded as your hand reached for the handle of your escape.

"What was the painting?" Geta asked, stalling your leave and perplexing you to turn to face him. He was shrugging his robe back into place with a raised brow. "The painting bought with my ring, what was it?" 

"Oh," You realized, pursing a frown. "I- I don't exactly recall. I do a lot of landscapes. Seascapes. Could've been anything like it." You noted. Geta watched you speak, mouth opened, stalled to say more. His tongue glided over the ends of his teeth as the man nodded and sauntered back toward his table full of wine. 

"My guards will see to your return home." Geta called, back facing you. You took that as your leave, anxious for some rest after exhausting your mind with wonder all day, and your body with pleasure this night. As you shut the emperor's door with a soft click, a gratitude filled your chest. That could've gone a lot worse.

///

The next day seemed surreal. You recalled the night like a fevered dream, like a plot from a book. But there were scratches along your thighs that reminded you what had happened was very truly real. You recalled the feelings Geta stirred in you with warmth.

You milled from room to room, mind in constant awe of the way your life had been spared. Since the brothers had come into power, so many senseless killings had been threatened and followed through. So much violence had afflicted common criminals and the odd person out of place alike. Was it more to do with Caracalla? Was he truly the more cruel? Did Geta have a softness about him? Or had you just gotten damn lucky?

You went about your daily chores and sat down to paint. Your art displayed sheep dotting across greyish green land. Your setting sun was in progress. A breeze flowed through the window, and you imagined it in your painting as well. A knocking rattled your door. It's persistence grating your nerves. Only now, at least, no one was intruding. 

Maybe that's why you were shocked more so now than before, to see two royal guards at your front door. 

"Geta is demanding your audience." One of them chuckled lowly before reaching to grab at you. He was too strong to fight off, though kick and yell you did.

Oh God, he'd realized he'd let you off easy, hadn't he? You should've pretended to hate rocking against his lap in that chair. You should've begged for freedom. Or maybe it was Caracalla after all. Maybe he'd heard of your involvement with his father's stolen ring and wished you dead. And these guards were luring you in with a false promise that Geta was the one wishing for a meeting.

While your mind raced, and the carriage took off into the city and passed the colosseum, you cursed the guards for dragging you away again. For being such fowl scum of the earth to manhandle women like they did.

It wasn't long before you were being yanked from the ride and marched into the great hall with that luscious purple carpet underfoot. Geta was there, assessing a scroll with a couple of servants nearby. His shock surprised you, when his glance looked up from the papers. 

As you squirmed against the holds the guards kept on you, Geta shoved the scroll he held onto, into the grasp of a servant. He drew his sword from his side, the instrument of war and horror blinding you in its brightness. The emperors stomp in your direction was quick, his footfall shaking the building and you to your core. This was it. This was your fate.

"Release her now!" Geta yelled, directing his fury to one of the guards at your side. Before the words fully formed from the man's mouth, either of the guard's grips had unlatched from your arms. You did not see that coming. You almost couldn't comprehend that his blade had missed piercing straight through you.

"You were gone for all of a few seconds before you bring her back here?" Geta quizzed, face red with anger. He held the end of his sword to the man's chin, forcing his footsteps back. 

"You- you told us to go fetch the girl from last afternoon, is that not what we did your highness?" The guard was bold in asking, though his voice trembled. 

"I told you to ask her to come. I told you to remain at her door in patience. And you dare drag the woman back in the matter of mere moments? With force? That's a direct disregard of my orders!" With speed that rallied a gasp from your throat, Geta whipped his sword to slash at the knees of the guard that defied him. The man let out a cry as his legs gave way, sending the fellow to collapse. Geta ordered the other guard to take the injured one to a medic and stay there until he was ready to deal with them further. His blood pooled and stained the purple carpet. 

"Why am I here again?" You couldn't linger in uncertainty any longer, once again failing to greet the leader without any respect of his authority. Geta plunged his red stained sword into its sheath as he demanded his servants get out. The workers scattered at the sound of his command, scurrying toward exits. The room was filled with quiet as Geta turned to face you fully. 

"I'm sorry they dragged you here. You were only meant to show up if you so wished." Geta's voice was lower, his rage subdued. He confounded you, the way he held so much darkness and contempt about him. The way he eased into constraint. These were not the stories you had heard. This was not the man described to you by retired servants and wives of soldiers. He was more withheld, before you. And it caught you by surprise time and again. 

"But since you are here now, and you have not yet raised a hand to lash across my cheek, I shall tell you," Geta went on, letting his eyes do what they had done before. Letting his gaze sweep across your figure. "I asked you here to present to you a proposition. An invitation to spend more evenings like the one we shared just before."

"You cannot be serious." You let a breath of a laugh fan from your throat. 

"I'm hardly ever anything but." Geta reasoned with a curled lip and a shrug of his shoulder in a way you knew was meant to get you to chuckle for real. This man continued to confound you. This man contained multitudes. How had no one else, in all their gossip, mentioned this?

"Is this more to do with payment? Did our exchange not suffice?" You reasoned, still uncertain of the terms in which Geta was asking. 

"I think you know exactly how well our exchange sufficed. Well enough for me to not have stopped dreaming of doing exactly that time and time again. I'm merely asking because I wish too." Geta was so close, his breath ghosting across your cheek, his eyes searching yours. "And now you get to decide what you wish. Who am I to deny you a choice?"

"What happens should I turn to leave?" You wondered. 

"A guard would take you home. And with fair treatment, I'd make certain." 

"What happens should I stay?" 

"A servant would take you upstairs. And your imagination could fill in the rest." 

Well, this certainly wasn't how you expected your day to turn out. That painting of all the sheep and the sunset would have to wait another long day. You suddenly couldn't dream of plans outside of those featuring Rome's half reigning emperor. 

With a nod toward the door you'd seen Geta's servants go through, he grinned. 

With footsteps more certain of the direction of his room, you found yourself locked in there, waiting.

///

The next weeks were filled with plans you couldn't tell anyone without fear they'd think you'd gone mad. You spent days milling about the stalls to sell your landscape paintings, careful of the payments you accepted. You'd harvest the fruits from your garden for meals and wait until night fall, when your promised escort arrived.  

Nights were spent in Geta's room, on his floor, against his wall, in that blessed chaise. Nights were spent shoving the emperors head into the pillows as your hips rocked together. Nights were spent demanding he speed up and slow down at your desire. Nights were spent with Geta sharing wine in between drawn-out romps. You'd drink and laugh and carry on, a couple times until the sun peaked dimly into a new day. You'd stay drinking, sharing stories about where you had come from and your hardships. Things you'd hardly spoken of before. Things you couldn't believe Geta would listen so intently to.

It started off as only a few times throughout any given week. But at the end of those nights Geta would always ask about the next. You'd offer up a day or a time and he'd promise you that he'd see to it happening. He would pour you more wine and tell you the dirtiest jokes, and ask what pleased you most before those nights ended. 

But after a while, he stopped asking. And your escort showed up outside your door more nights than most. And it became a rather expected part of the schedule of either of your days.

This night as you padded across the purple carpet, following behind a servant you'd come to trust; a ruckus was sounding from the stairwell you headed toward.

There you found Geta and his brother spitting fowl words in one another's direction. The men were swarmed by guards, ready to take on any outcome of the boys spat. And while they argued about political things you weren't privy to the full details of, you understood they spoke their father's name. You heard Caracalla remind Geta that their father had decidedly upped Rome's soldiers pay to ensure their loyalties to the empire. You heard Geta shout something about how his father was dead, how the brothers needed to learn to ensure loyalties in their own manner. And then he noticed you had arrived. 

"Thank God." Geta seethed, waving his brother off, taking the stairs two at a time to lower himself to greet you. 

"For you, Geta, trust is easily earned, isn't it?" Caracalla shouted, still domineering about the stairs. "A bat of your lashed eyes toward any common whore and they come flooding through our halls." Caracalla cast a snarl in your direction that turned Geta's blood so hot you swore you could feel the smoke coming off him. With a decidedly quick hand, you rested your fingers to grip Geta's arm, stopping him from running up the staircase to rip his brother in two. You didn't care so much what Caracalla thought of you, so long as Geta's opinion remained unchanged.

"But my powers of persuasion are not so charming. And I must demand trust more harshly. And I must remain harsh to keep control. And I do control the half of this empire entrusted in my name!" Caracalla was seething, fists balled at his sides, eyes bulging with rage. You'd never known anyone to be fueled by such negativity. Geta had slowly started toward his brother, letting your grip remain on his arm. 

"We'll reach an agreement. But not till morning. Go back to your side of the estate, now." Geta demanded, taking the staircase slowly, keeping his eyes on his brother. The younger one stood shaking with fury as the elder led you to his room. Guards and servants followed, wordlessly seeing the pair of you behind closed doors. A couple of soldiers usually waited on either end of this hall, but tonight a few more lingered near in addition. These boys really hated each other.

Once locked in his room, safe from rage and question, Geta had you pinned against the wall. He'd usually greet you. He'd usually ask about what paintings you'd sold that day, or if you'd had any great stories of your family before they sold you to a husband. Or of your husband before he died. But tonight, Geta was ravenous. Tonight, he moved more accordingly to the rumors you'd once heard about him.

The emperor didn't fuss with your clothes. He didn't give you time to unravel his either. No sooner than his hand had crept up the skirt of your dress, was he rocking his hips into yours, pounding your back against the wall.

Your nails clawed at the back of his neck and your legs curled to flex around his waist. Geta was relentless as his body hammered into yours. He huffed harder with each new pulse and let out some cursed sighs when your teeth pierced into his shoulder, to keep from screeching all the same. You knew the guards could hear from the hall. But they didn't need to hear more than they had too.

His efforts had ended, his face stayed buried in your neck. But you weren't ready for it to cease.

"You think you're finished? You're only just getting started." You barked, pawing at Geta's head and forearm, shoving him downward. He didn't hesitate, his knees cracked to the floor with force you knew had to hurt. But he didn't seem phased. Geta seemed entirely entranced on bending your knee over his shoulder. Scratching his fingers along your skin. Burying his head between your legs. And he did so consciously, like a duty being fulfilled. He was relentless tonight, and you felt lucky to be relented against.

When your pleasure had ended, and you were left to slide from the wall to find footing, you found the wine too. 

"Well, I can't help solve Rome's problems," You began, pouring you each a drink. "But I hope I've just helped solve some of your own, your highness." You half mocked, but half spoke in well-meaning regard. Geta hummed somewhere behind you. His voice sounded nearby. But his hands fell to close the space between you, gripping at the hilt of your hips. 

"Dunno, might need to try a couple more times." You could hear the smile in his tone, and you felt his sultry chuckle against your neck, where he nearly dared to place a kiss, but didn't. Geta only reached ahead for his chalice, and asked about your day.

///

 You didn't need to sell paintings. You could've lived a basic enough life, fed from the food you grew in your garden, rested from the comfort of your own bed. Secure enough in your late spouses left over finances. 

You had known married life for all of five years. Wed before you'd even turned old enough to know better. All because your parents thought it best. They said you'd been sold to a husband to take care of you, in the long run. He did care for you, in his own twisted way. He kept you fed and housed until he died. And he left all his meager earnings to you in his passing. It wasn't much, but it was enough for you, for now, for a while.

You started painting when you moved in with him, to fill the days that dragged on so endlessly. You dreamed of freedom from the man for so long. And kept painting when he died, to fill those same days that were just as endless and a lot quieter to boot. He'd left you all alone in the expanses of the great wide world, yet freedom seemed even more unobtainable to you then, somehow. So, you painted. And decidedly started selling those paintings when the house filled up without room for any more of them. You kept selling them when you realized how eagerly peers bought from you.

You'd made friends down at the stalls. You found a quaint routine there, waiting in the sun to trade paintings for coins, and chattering with townspeople while the mornings stayed young. Bakers and seamstresses and writers alike shared your routine, all becoming familiar faces you were pleased to see each day.

"Goodmorning, you!" A trio of girls your age came giggling your way. Girls you'd invited over a few times. Girls you were happy to see now. 

"Listen, are you going to the games in three day's time? I'd like us all to twirl about the colosseum buzzed on vino, carefree!" The small brunette leaned across the table your art was displayed on. 

"She just wants to go to wait on Geta, afterward. He always invites girls in after the games." The blonde rolled her eyes, leaning against the post of your stall as you chuckled in understanding, and out of sudden apprehension. You and Geta agreed to your trysts because he trusted how discreet you could be. When you refused to bend your will to give the names of the people you pawned his ring to, he admired that. You couldn't give yourself away, now.

"But haven't you heard?" The redhead leaned in, waving you all to listen closer. "Geta hasn't invited any of the girls that wait at the empire gates in, in weeks." 

You'd often trailed in past that very line of girls in question, much to their growing displeasure. Luckily, none of them were from the side of the country you had resided. None of them could spread your name around in whispers, as they did not know it.

"I'm still eager to take my chances." The brunette joked, going on to beg you to come to the games at the colosseum.

"I don't know." Was the best answer you could give without disappointing your friends, or thinking up a messy lie on the spot.  

///

Another night in Geta's room was unusually spent in his bed. You'd been used to being forced against a chest of drawers, his voice growling in your ear. Or yours demanding the emperor sit on the stool before the table of wine, and wait in agony like a good, obedient, merciful ruler.

But tonight, Geta had you moving slower in his sheets. He'd closed his eyes as your hips rocked atop his, nice and easy. And when he reached to flip you over, his core pierced languidly into yours. His hand brushed across your cheek and his eyes stayed steadily locked on yours.

"Are you feeling quite alright?" You couldn't help but worry, too overcome with the silence that fell about the room. Geta had been resting at your side, his finger tracing the same pattern against your stomach forever.

"What if you stayed, tonight?" The ruler asked, after a while.

"You didn't answer my question. You realized, still confused as to what mood you'd found Geta in tonight. You'd been often surprised by his wit and his resolution. But this wasn't a way you'd known the emperor before. 

"You didn't answer mine either." He pointed, finger still dancing across the skin of your abdomen. You turned your head to find Geta's gaze. His head rested on a pillow at your side, his eyes rolling up to lock with yours. His dark brown stare was illuminating. His curls graced his head so delicately. His silence was so reticent this night. Maybe it was the fact neither of you had had any wine.

"I'll stay if you tell me what's going on in that head of yours." You shot a pointed look to the man at your side who let a lifeless smile flash across his lips as his eyes turned away from yours. Silence filled the room once more, but you got the sense that Geta was choosing his words a while. 

"Nothing... none of this is how I thought it would be." Geta spoke. You kept your eyes cast across his amber lit room, fixating on the pattern of the wallpaper. What did he mean? 

"What's this?" You quizzed. "Ruling an empire? Sleeping with me? Sobriety from wine for a night?" You tried to joke, desperate for some kind of clarity.

"None of it." Geta responded, his inflection implying everything you listed was weighing on his mind then. And that surprised you. He was always surprising you. Silence settled yet again, and stayed for a while. It was Geta who broke it, after so long. He sat up to meet your eye, searching your gaze before offering a nod. You nodded back, knowing that meant your promise to stay here had been sealed. He rose from the bed to dim the candles, and crashed back into it with a sigh. 

When Geta rested his head of golden curls on your chest, in the dark and quiet of his room, you finally understood what he meant. This was all very different now, than it started. None of it had turned out in an expected way. But you felt at ease with it all. You hadn't shared a bed with anyone since your late husband, and those times simply did not count in your mind. You did not care for that man as you had come to care for the one laying against you now. And that dawned on you in fear. But then, a realization that it didn't matter. Not now. Now, you got to rest under the weight of the emperor, for one peaceful night.

///

The next morning was bright and felt early in your bones. And it wasn't long before it hit you, the games were meant to happen today. Geta's stirring at your side was a relished wonder, as his smile widened to see you upon waking. But it all came crashing down as servants and soldiers demanded quick work of getting up and ready for the day of events. 

"It will be too hard to send you away now, with all the crowds starting to gather." Geta realized, peering from the window of his room to the public below. "I'll have some appropriate attire sent for you. You shall join us today." The emperor's smile was bitten back, but you saw it reached his eyes as his looked into yours. 

Things were shifting with Geta. Night's were turning into days with him. Festivities were offered to be shared. You knew better than to ask. You knew better than to wonder why. You simply thanked him for his offer and waited for clothes to change into as the leader headed out of his room, yelling for a guard to hurry along and follow. You milled about Geta's room, admiring the wallpaper in the daylight. Admiring the stained glass of his window. You traced your finger along carved chests and bed posts. You dared to open a drawer, finding a collection of jewelry there, a familiar blue stoned ring at the front of the collection. 

You snapped the drawer shut in a hurry when a knock came across the door. 

"Hello." A familiar face entered. Julia, the Emperors mother, twirled in the room with a stack of garments. "These are mine from seasons past. I brought a few, just in case." The woman was dear, with soft curls that matched her sons, gold earrings that brightened her blue eyes. She smiled and introduced herself as if she needed too. For her, you bowed.

"Such a pretty thing, you are." Julia cooed, resting her clothes at the foot of the emperor's bed before turning to consider you. "I've seen you come and go. Quite the feat to boast over. Geta never struggled to make friends, not like Caracalla. But he has failed to keep so many of them."

 Julia kept a studying gaze on you as you thanked her for her kindness and watched her saunter out the door. The woman told you to meet the family downstairs once you readied yourself. That's when a certain anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach. What was this? What had you gotten yourself into? Worry plagued your mind as you squeezed into a bright blue and plum skirt. The fabric hugged at your figure but fell so elegantly to the floor. You never dreamed of such finery adorning you. You'd never dreamed of a life so different from the one you'd been used to living.

Downstairs, everyone had gathered, gearing up to head out. Guards of every kind kept the ruling brothers on either side of the room while Julia flitted about, laughing with a man you didn't know. Senators and councilors seemed to mingle with the family just as well, their wives and children patiently lingering on the outskirts of the gathering. 

When Julia found you descending the stairs her first greeting after a smile was to tell you how perfectly the dress fit, how powerful you seemed entering the room. She said you held a certain presence about you, keeping a watchful eye on your expression as you gushed to thank her for such continued kindness.

And then you were off, trailing with the wives and the children of the party as the royal family presented themselves before the public. They were loved and hated so that the cheers and boo's from the crowd muddled together in an indistinguishable roar. Your heart pounded to realize how close you were to the action of the day, to realize how viscerally the opinion of the public mattered to the fate of the royals.

You watched Caracalla pull some face, pointing a finger at a citizen who cursed his name on the families walk toward the colosseum. You watched women line themselves along the path Geta walked, his politics be damned. You watched as he turned to look back, smile stretching wider as his eyes found yours. You watched then, as Julia stalled to join your side, and failed to calm the quickening of your heart as she held your arm to walk with you. None of this was how it used to be.

The woman leaned in, explaining exactly how today's games were meant to go. She yammered about the history of it all and pulled a few giggles from your throat as she threw in some personal deadly details about old games she'd bore witness too.

Once you'd all reached the colosseum, the brothers were ushered off to find their royal box, while Julia strategically placed you just outside of there. She frowned when she reminded you could not be allowed to join them further than here, but smiled when she hoped you'd enjoy the day's events. You watched her saunter off, stopping a guard and pointing in your direction before she disappeared in the box all the while. The guard locked his gaze with yours, offering a respectful nod as you considered your surroundings. 

All kinds of vendors and stalls were open around every entrance of the arena. All kinds of people wandered about, sampling food and drink, playing cards at tables until the event's kicked off. You decidedly began to wander about, accepting free samples and smiling to people you'd seen in passing. You shielded your eyes from the sun and noticed that guard trailing nearby, keeping a steady eye on your every move. 

When the crowds began to clamor toward the inside of the arena, you realized the games were about to begin. You downed a free sample of wine and found your way to watch from afar. Caracalla and Geta were announced in, and greeted with that same muddled roar of praise and disregard. You watched as Geta ate up the attention. You watched as Caracalla fought against it, spitting and arguing with some poor guard in the box. There was something so volatile in the air, as if one wrong move from either of the emperors would unleash havoc. The public was only one excitable realization away from realizing their joined forces could rip the royals from limb to limb. Geta was quick to shift focus to the games, demanding the publics energy be reserved for the battles that were begun, turning the spotlight away from himself. It was a tactical move, but you worried if he and his brother did not change the course of their political actions soon, no amount of pantomime could save them.

Another few swallows of wine helped ease your nerves, all the while. You'd forgotten how on edge the public had only just seemed. You'd been entranced by Geta's presence even from so many miles away. His distraction's had worked wonders on the crowd, his excitable reactions to the winners and losers kept the arena entertained for the better, for now. He kept you entertained all the while. When he would tear his gaze from the games every once and a while, you liked to imagine he was looking for wherever you might've been.

When you wandered off to find more wine, the guard that had been following you stayed back, glued to the battle that was happening. You returned with two cups, to share. The guard tried to deny your kindness but caved with a smile at your insistence to have at least one drink. It was a day of festivities after all. 

"We thought you weren't going to make it!" A voice familiar echoed over your ear. Turning from the view of the battle, you found your friends. You chuckled as you greeted the small brunette, buzzed enough off wine to shrug your nerves away. You couldn't exactly explain how you ended up here, to them. Or how you'd come to dress so finely. But they didn't pester you too much about it, drunk all the same. The girls swarmed you with giggles and hello's and how are you's. 

"Change your mind, have you?" The blonde teased, raising her brow at you. But your mind was too slow to understand why. 

"This is the gate the royals always leave from. Isn't it obvious?" The small brunette pointed, waving her hand to gesture around. When you glanced up, you noticed a particularly increasing population of young women that had begun to collect around the area. Geta always famously exited from this path, and always famously collected a girl or two to follow him back to the royal hall.

"Oh, no, I just sort of-" You stumbled over words, "ended up on this side." How were you to explain this all away? "I actually... should be going now that it's nearing an end. Get home before sun set." This reason sounded good enough in your head to speak aloud, as you began to walk backward, waving to your friends all the while. You spun on your heels, anxious to get away, making up your mind to head home should that be your only sound escape. But you'd barely walked a dozen paces before that guard was gliding close and halting your leave.

"You're not to go. I'm to see you united with her highness when she passes through that exit."

"Is- is that what she ordered?" You asked meekly, looking up to the roman soldier who loomed over you with his bulky build, yet kind eyes. The man did not speak, but lifted a hand to spin you around by the shoulder, placing a gentle palm there to guide you back where you came from. You saw your friends notice, perplexed gaze's settled on your march as you stepped closer to where they'd stayed waiting.

Caracalla was the first one to storm through the arched entrance, scowling at you on his storm toward his chariot. But then, a spectator, too drunk for his own good, began to slur insults to the emperor. The fellow had barely began cursing Caracalla's name, before the ruler stepped close to grab the man by his throat, strong enough to lift him to the tips of his dirty toes. The citizen struggled to breathe, squirming for relief. Caracalla shouted in the man's face, something about knowing better. The ruler let go, the citizen dropped to the floor in a rattled gasp. When Caracalla demanded the guards that followed him, to slaughter the citizen still choking for breath on the ground, you'd had enough.

"Do not do that. Have you such little mercy?" It wasn't to be helped, the way your body and mind worked together to force out a shout. You should have been more afraid of the way Caracalla turned to fix his fiery gaze on you. But rage at the senseless violence was all you could feel. Yet, the guards were already slashing their swords at the belly of the the citizen, so he might suffer still before passing. 

Caracalla stood considering you, longer than you expected. The crowds fell silent, the only noises were the hoarse cries from the dying man. And your heart hammering in place. 

Caracalla moved his look from you, to the guard steady at your side, and back to you. His head shook, and a scoff left his throat. He turned to leave, kicking the man he'd murdered on his exit. Your body shook with panic. Your stomach churned at the realization that you'd escaped yet another royal execution. 

The crowds parted to let Caracalla pass, steering clear of the angry little man. Your friends seemed to think of walking closer to where the guard had stalled you to wait. But their confounded and horrified expressions morphed into something more wonder filled, as their collective eye unfocused from your position. 

You were too busy assessing your friend's questioning gazes to see he'd appeared. But instead, you heard Geta's voice in your ear. 

"I'd say you're lucky he spared you. But I think there are more powerful forces than luck working on your side."  You heard him say. Your friend's gazes had no doubt been locked on the emperor, but soon fell more perplexed onto you, yet again. And then you realized everyone's eyes had shifted to you. The entire crowd that had watched you speak against the vindictive leader just ahead. The same crow that had pushed closer to wait for a scrap of attention from the man that spoke to only you, now, was casting a collective stupefied glare right at you. 

"I'd like to take you away now, but I'll have you wait on my mother. She hasn't stopped bringing up your name since this day has begun." Geta stayed speaking lowly, and you nodded to assure you understood, keeping your nervous gaze cast on the crowd that had fixated their attentions on you. "Do not worry though, tonight we can debrief in more ways than one." 

You had to turn and grin at him then, pleased to see he'd waited to share a smirk with you. He was off no sooner though, parting through the crowd with little acknowledgement their way. Your friends kept their slack jawed gazes set on you as you wondered for a beat about saying something to them. But then Julia was sweeping you away, resting her clutch at the bend of your arm like she'd done before.

They watched you leave, just as everyone had. You shot your friends a quick shrug and an expression you hoped they'd understand meant you'd catch them all up later, if ever you could dream up a good enough fib.

Unlike your journey here, Julia asked all about you on your trek back. You gave thoughtful answers, not daring to spare the truth of your meager life to the woman, but hoping the way you spoke of it would endear you to her somehow. It wasn't like you needed to be adored by Julia. But you did long to be respected in some basic human way, by the royal woman.

///

That evening went on strangely. Caracalla locked himself away in the furthest parts of the halls. No one dared speak about him in his absence. No one had dared to allude to his fury or righteousness at all. Instead, the tone of the evening was rather merry. You shared a meal with a mile long table of strangers, glad all the while to have been welcomed in the celebrations of the day. You gabbed with socialites and senators alike, until one by one they headed for home and bed. Try as you might to take your leave, Julia would not let you. She only kept dragging you from guest to guest to introduce. Until you were the last one standing. Until even Julia had made her exit from the room, Geta too. Leaving you to wait in the parlor until further command. 

A pair of guards stood unmoving near the doors, as you sat at the head of the dirty table. There were plates and glasses and saucers left awry, covered in crumbs for the kitchen maids to come and handle. There was a steady crackling fire on the opposite end of the room. There was wallpaper that didn't put your senses at ease the way the kind in Geta's room often had.

When the sound of the door opening stirred you from blank thoughts, you shifted to stand. Julia was easing into the room, smile and curls soft as ever. Eye's full of a certain kind of knowing. Behind her, Geta followed. His mother spoke your name, as if to grab your attention, as if she didn't already have it. 

"You're not to return home." The woman began, gliding to stall before you. Geta shouldered past her, moving to stand at your side and watching as his mother spoke. "I've noticed you come and go, as I mentioned." Julia went on. "And I've noticed how my son has been less fraught, during the time you've been around. I've heard you speak, and I've seen you command a presence in any room you enter."  

"What are you on about? What is this?" Geta demanded, that brooding gaze of his beginning to darken as understanding evaded him. 

"As good as she has been for you, son, I'm certain she'll benefit our empire just as well." Julia glanced to Geta before her gaze settled unmovably on yours. Your chest filled with the weight of a realization. Your mind buzzed with wonders of her implications. "You will marry in two days time. Enough to spread the news across the public, and plan something grand."

"Marry?" You breathed, feeling your heart hammer in your stomach. 

"You actually don't-" Geta began.

"I actually am watching this empire teeter on the edge of collapse." Julia interrupted Geta, causing his jaw to clench and his brow to darken further than before. "If we do not start moving more intentionally in the direction of change, you and your brother will ruin everything. If you marry this girl, you will marry someone from the very public you've been so often accused of dismissing. This girl is clearly capable of not only earning our family greater public favor. But she would be your bride, and you two together would have a better chance of making sense of this empire than your brother. Caracalla cannot be allowed to overpower your rule, Geta. Do you realize how close that idea is to becoming our reality?" Julia was insistent. "You do not have a choice. This has to happen. For all our fates." She was looking right at you again.

You were shaken, stunned, totally unprepared. Just days ago you were living such a carefree reality, all you knew were paints and pleasure by way of the emperor's hands. But now all of a sudden, all of Rome's fate depended on if you stayed standing here or made a break to sprint for the door.

"Get out." Geta pointed, coldly dismissing his mother. She began to argue back, pleading his name to listen. "Get out! I command it!" Geta was fuming, rage becoming his entire essence. You couldn't help but screw your eyes shut at the boom of his voice. You heard a guard approach to see the royal mother out of the door. She went without a fight, but insisted Geta had no choice, insisting she was already making plans to assure this fate for the both of you. As one guard saw her out of the room, the other followed, leaving you and Geta alone in the room with the ugly wallpaper.

The fire stayed crackling in the corner. The table stayed dirty. Geta began to pace, like he did, hands on his hips, head shaking in an effort to make sense of things. 

"You are quiet." He spoke up, softer than he had spoken all night.

"I am choiceless." You warbled. Hadn't this already happened to you? Hadn't you already been forced to wed a man for the betterment of some kind of future? You thought you'd already paid your dues. You thought freedom was supposed to be promised at some point. You thought you'd had it, just days ago. But even still you were captured by the powers that be. It wasn't like you were opposed to being Geta's bride. But you were rocked to realize it didn't matter what you wanted, in this life. It was just going to keep happening to you, against you, despite you.

You watched as Geta sped up his pace, thinking. His eyes danced as if to keep up with an invisible coming together idea. And then his moving stalled. He rolled his shoulders and let his eyes rake up your figure, like they so often did. Geta's brown stare bore into yours, as if to search for an answer to a question not yet asked.

"You claim to have been born to die." Geta gestured, sauntering closer. "I claim to have been born to rule. But we have failed to consider what there could be to live for. I have reason to believe my answer to living lies within you." His speech was imploring. He meant it. He only ever spoke with authority, by that you weren't surprised. But by his meaning, by the tenderness in it, you were. "As ruler, I shall make the final decision regarding my mother's demands. But... I shall also wait here in silence as you choose your fate. I will command no guard after you should you flee. This time, this wedding, you'll be allowed to choose."

"Should I flee, will there be fines? Will I forever be in your debt somehow?"

"I shall see to it that you owe nothing to this empire if you leave it. But you must leave it entirely, you must go far from here. It's the only way I could make these guarantees."

"Should I stay..."

Geta loomed closer, until his breath fanned across your face. So close you could see the golds speckled across the brown of his eyes. Close enough to kiss.

"I would see to your value." Geta breathed, stalling an inch before you. "Your profile on coins. Your voice heard above others. Your throne... My bed... I'd see to it."

Your heart hadn't stopped pounding since this conversation spun to life. But it beat harder yet, at Geta's tone and implication now.

"Take my hand." Geta held an open face palm before you. "Or turn away." You glanced to the door. 

You considered all that lie beyond it, the quiet, the vastness. The race to the finish line of life would be slow and steady outside these doors. Your freedom would be quiet and lonely. Then you turned to Geta and saw a different kind of future to consider. And then a thought dawned on you. What if the freedom you'd always been in search of, was not just yours alone? What if an entire empires fate had always been pressed into the back of your heart, clear in the front of your mind only now that you understood everything Julia had said. You thought of your latest painting. The one with the sheep and the sunset. You wondered if maybe it was a sunrise all along. 

Your hand flexed, knuckles deciding between clenching and raising up. Until suddenly your palm was in Getas. Until suddenly your fate, and all of Rome's, had been sealed.

///

Part 2 Coming Soon...

[icallhimjoey]

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

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

---

Five More Minutes

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

Five more minutes longer.

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

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

Everyone did. 

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

Five more minutes. 

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

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

Five more minutes. 

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

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

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

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

"Joe..."

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

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

You knew Joe would let it happen.

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

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

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

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

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

Silly.

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

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

But you knew Joe didn't have the time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Cook me breakfast instead."

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

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

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

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

Illegal.

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

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

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

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

"Good morning."

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

"Five more minutes."

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

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

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

However, Joe was wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just for a little while.

Five more minutes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the best mornings?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Five more minutes longer, to be exact.

---

The Taglisted

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

[michelle-is-writing]

Prom Night, Eddie Munson

Word Count: 1.2k~

Dustin loved hearing Eddie Munson’s stories. He had countless stories about anything and everything, none of which were ever boring. In his mind, Dustin could only hope he’d be as cool as Eddie with his guitar and never ending knowledge over dungeons and dragons one day. Because of his love for the man, Dustin imagined how prom must’ve been for Eddie, and with one question, he got Eddie to recall the entire night.

“How was prom for you?”

Eddie had been putting off anything that involved prom. He didn’t even care to look at suits or ties as he had already decided he wasn’t going to go. He didn’t have a girlfriend, and the girl whom he wanted to go to prom with was way out of his league, according to him. She was his best friend, and everyone knew that, but they also saw the longing look he had in his eyes every time he looked at her. Eddie felt like he loved her like no other - but how could he tell her that?

The day of the prom, most of the girls were absent toward the end of the day as they were all allowed to leave early to get ready. However, there was one girl Eddie was surprised to see still at the school. As much as he loved spending time with her, he questioned her as to why she was still there and not using the time the school had surprisingly allowed them.

“Why not?” She retorted, leaning back in her chair with a small shrug. “No one asked me, so why bother.”

Her words made his eyebrows quickly go down in confusion. How could no one have asked her out?

Instead of asking her exactly that, he sat back in his chair. “I’m not going either,” he sheepishly admitted, rubbing a hand against his arm as he bit his lip nervously. In his head, he pondered if he should just ignore his hesitation and worry, and just go for it? He always tiptoed around letting (Y/n) know about his true feelings for her, but there would be no tiptoeing now.

“Hey,” her voice broke him away from his anxious thoughts, causing his head to snap to hers. Immediately, his eyes were locked on how pretty she looked at that moment, making his mouth move before his thoughts.

“Yes, pretty girl?” Eddie asked her, making her cheeks turn to a deeper red as her lips unfolded into a huge smile. He had never called her that before, but she liked it - she liked it a lot.

“Why don’t we go to the prom tonight? And see all the moron football players try to bust a move to Madonna,” (Y/n) suggested to Eddie, making him laugh loudly in the school’s library they were sat in. No one was around to care though, and (Y/n) certainly wasn’t going to complain about Eddie.

“I would love that.”

Eddie’s response to her invitation to prom would leave a forever lasting mark on their relationship, a good mark though. Before picking her up, Eddie sat in his van, clad in an old suit of his uncle's while anxious thoughts raced through his head. "A beautiful girl going out with the weirdo, what could go wrong?" he questioned himself, the worries of other people's reactions to seeing them together flashing through his mind.

However, once he arrived to her home and went inside (with a hastily made-corsage he put together with a rose and couple strands of baby's breath, no less), all of his fears and worries simply disappeared after seeing her in the (f/c) dress she wore that night. Sure, Eddie had seen her dressed up a few times for picture day at school, but this was a sight he never witnessed before. Her hair was pinned and curled, her dress looked perfect, she wore makeup that only enhanced her features, but most of all, Eddie couldn't look away from the bright smile she had while staring back at him. In that moment he knew he would never regret his decision.

“I wasn’t going to go,” Eddie explained to Dustin, leaning his head back against the chair with a small huff. “I was very anti-prom since I couldn’t grow a pair and ask a certain pretty girl out,” he further added, a smirk curling at his lips as memories of him and his beloved before they started dating flashed through his head.

“What pretty girl was that?” Dustin asked, making Eddie throw his head back in dramatics and roll his eyes. However, just as he did that, his brown orbs caught sight of the woman he loved walking toward him. Taking the opportunity laid out before him, Eddie quickly leaned up from his slouching position before throwing his arms around (Y/n) as she came up beside his chair and pulling her to sit sideways on his lap. His actions only made the girl giggle as she situated herself in his hold, used to her boyfriend’s antics by now.

“This one right here,” Eddie pointed out to Dustin, his arms now wrapped around her waist. To get more comfortable, she reciprocated his actions and wrapped her arms around his neck, causing their gazes to meet each other. Eddie’s smile only grew at the sight of her (e/c) orbs shining back at him as he lifted a hand to push her hair back, something he often found himself doing out of habit. “but thankfully, she came and asked me out.”

Before she could ask what their conversation was about, Dustin quickly interjected with a question of his own. “You asked him out?!”

Immediately, realization flashed across her face as her mouth formed a small 'o' shape. “Oh, are you talking about prom?” She reaffirmed, turning back to face Eddie. Still smiling, he nodded dopily at her as he remained entranced by the way her hair happened to fall that day.

Now smiling warmly, she turned her attention back to Dustin. “Well, technically, yes,” (Y/n) explained, letting out a small laugh afterward. “but it was more of a ‘hey, you wanna go crash the prom with me?’ kind of deal, and he totally went for it.”

“I couldn’t have asked for a better prom date,” Eddie stated, making (Y/n) giggle once more while she leaned farther into his hold.

“I think I’m more than just your old prom date at this point, right?” she murmured to him, making him flash his teeth at her with a bright grin. In front of them, Dustin turned away from the sight of the two as a warm feeling spread over him. He wondered if he had that same lovestruck look on his face when he gazed at Susie, or vice versa.

“Oh, most definitely, love of my life,” Eddie clarified, leaning down to press a kiss to her arm currently resting against his shoulder. At the same time, (Y/n)'s grip on him only tightened as she moved forward to connect their lips in a slow, small kiss, still careful not to do too much in front of the kids. Pulling away after a few moments, the same entranced look came over Eddie’s face as he spoke up once more. “You are so much more than just an old prom date.”

With that, (Y/n)’s smile only grew more before she moved to rest her head on his shoulder, looking up at him. “I’m glad,” she murmured, their eyes remaining locked on each other as giggle fell from her lips. “Because you're so much more than just a prom date to me, love of my life.”

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

More Than Enough

Pairings: Eddie Munson X Plus Size!reader

Warnings: Smut, Spice, Angst, insecurities for being plus sized

Authors Note: I do relate to this a lot being a plus sized girl myself so I decided to make it with one of my favorite boys!

Word Count: 1.3k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The familiar warmth of Eddie Munson’s basement wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. The soft glow from the mismatched lamps gave the room a cozy, intimate feel, casting long shadows across the table littered with dice, character sheets, and empty soda cans. It was the final session of the week’s D&D campaign, and though you loved every second of it, your mind wasn’t entirely in the game tonight. Every time you looked up, you found Eddie’s eyes on you—intense and playful, like he was always one step ahead, waiting for you to notice.

But behind the excitement of the game, something tugged at the back of your mind. As you leaned over to grab your dice, you tugged the edge of your shirt down a bit, feeling self-conscious about the way it hugged your body. The soft fabric clung to your curves in a way that made you hyper-aware of every extra inch, every dip and swell that you were never sure was attractive enough.

You tried to focus on the game, on the banter between Eddie and the other players, but your mind kept wandering. You’d always been the “big girl” in your group of friends. It wasn’t something you ever hid, but deep down, that quiet voice of insecurity whispered whenever you caught sight of yourself in the mirror or overheard other girls at school talking about their crushes. Eddie was different, though. He never treated you like you didn’t belong. In fact, sometimes it felt like he noticed you even more because of it, but you couldn’t quite believe that.

The session was wrapping up now, your sorceress character leading the charge in the final epic battle. You cast a massive fireball spell, decimating the Dark One, your hands trembling with excitement as the group cheered in unison. The adrenaline of the final encounter flooded your system, but even that couldn’t shake the feeling of self-consciousness that always seemed to linger beneath the surface.

“Great work tonight,” Eddie said, his voice casual but carrying that familiar edge of something deeper. “That last spell was killer.”

You gave him a small smile, but the insecurity gnawing at your insides made it hard to fully enjoy the praise. “Thanks. I just followed your lead, really.”

As the others packed up and started to leave, Eddie lingered, his eyes flicking back to you more often than usual. The air between you both felt heavier, charged with a tension that had been building for some time. You could feel it, and it seemed like Eddie was about to address it.

Once the door closed behind the last player, silence settled over the room. Eddie took a step closer, his posture more relaxed now, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. "You’ve been a little quiet tonight," he said, gently pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "What’s going on?”

You hesitated, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. The urge to downplay your feelings tugged at you, but Eddie had this way of making you feel safe, like you could be yourself without judgment. "I don’t know… Sometimes, I just don’t feel like I fit in. Like, not really. I’m not like the other girls, and it’s hard not to think about."

Eddie stepped closer, his fingers tracing the back of your hand as he crouched down to your level. “What do you mean?” he asked softly, his dark eyes locked onto yours. His thumb gently grazed your knuckles as if grounding you in the moment.

“I mean… look at me,” you said, voice tinged with hesitation. “I don’t exactly look like the girls you usually see around school, the kind guys are into.”

Eddie shook his head, his expression turning more serious. “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he said quietly. “Look, I’ve seen you around those people, and I see you. You stand out in all the right ways.”

His hand slid from yours, and before you knew it, he was sitting beside you on the couch, his knee brushing yours, sending a spark of warmth through your skin. “I notice you, and not just because of your confidence in the game or your laugh,” he continued, his voice low, “but because you’re real. You’re not like those girls—you’re better. Your curves, your strength... You have no idea how much I love that.”

Your heart pounded as his words sunk in, disbelief and hope battling in your chest. You felt seen in a way you never had before.

“Come here,” Eddie murmured, his voice dipping as he leaned in closer, his eyes dark with sincerity. His hand found your waist, fingers grazing the curve of your hip as if testing the waters. The moment felt electric, his touch making your skin tingle with warmth.

You hesitated for a beat before allowing yourself to lean into his touch, your breath hitching as Eddie’s hand slid up the small of your back, pulling you closer. His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm against your neck. “You’re more than enough,” he whispered, and those words felt like a balm to the insecurity that had taken root deep inside you for so long.

Your hands moved on their own, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him into a kiss. It was slow at first, a tentative brush of lips, but the moment his lips touched yours, all the built-up tension between you both melted away.

Eddie deepened the kiss, his fingers threading into your hair as he angled your head for better access. His free hand gently explored the curves of your body, never rushing, as if he wanted to take his time feeling every inch. You could feel his appreciation in every stroke, every caress, the way his fingers seemed to linger on your soft curves as though they were something he adored.

You gasped softly into the kiss as Eddie’s hand slid under your shirt, his fingers trailing up your sides, grazing your skin with a reverence that made your heart race. The touch wasn’t rushed or aggressive—it was careful, deliberate, like he was memorizing the shape of you.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire but filled with a softness that made your heart flutter. His words weren’t just sweet nothings—they were truths spoken as if he couldn’t hold them back any longer. “Every part of you.”

Your breath hitched, your insecurities momentarily forgotten as Eddie’s hands roamed, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough. You felt the heat between you building, your body responding to his touches, but more than that, you felt a sense of acceptance. A sense of being wanted, exactly as you were.

Eddie’s hands continued their slow, appreciative exploration, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below your jaw as you leaned back against the couch. You shivered under his touch, your body alight with sensation, but what struck you the most was how cherished you felt in this moment.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” Eddie whispered against your skin, his voice low and gravelly with need. “Wanted you.”

Your response was lost in another kiss, more urgent now as your hands roamed over his shoulders, his chest, feeling the strength beneath his shirt. The closeness between you both felt intoxicating, each touch fanning the flames of desire that had been simmering between you for weeks.

As Eddie’s hand slid further up, his fingers grazing the soft swell of your chest, he paused for a moment, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze was intense, but there was a question in his eyes, a silent ask for permission. You nodded, breathless, and his hand moved again, cupping your chest with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, and in that moment, you believed him.

Hope you enjoyed! Please follow, like and Reblog💜 -Midnight’s Cafe

[fideozepam]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐎𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𑣿ྀིྀ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨

As the Marcellus family arrives to Rome, they brought along their daughter and gifts symbolizing compliance and respect. Their offerings met with the scrutinizing gazes of the now emperors of the powerful Roman dynasty.

The Marcellus villa buzzed alive with preparations as dawn broke. Servants scurried about, packing crates with fine cloths, silver and jars of olives and honey, that represented Lusitania’s loyalty to Rome.

Outside, a gleaming imperial carriage, emblazoned with the eagle of Rome, awaited. Soldiers stood at attention, their armor glinting in the sunlight, while horses snorted and pawed at the ground, ready for the long journey.

Camilla stood at the threshold, her mother fussing over the hem of her travel cloak. “You must make a good impression,” her mother murmured, smoothing the fabric. “You represent us now.”

Her mother’s hands trembled ever so slightly, though her face remained calm and focused. Tugging at the fabric and brushing away invisible specks of dust, her movements were deliberate, slow - as if she was stalling for more time with her little girl.

“I know,” Camilla replied, her voice barely audible. She glanced at her father, who stood silent, his face unreadable, though his eyes betrayed pride and sorrow.

In the Villa’s entrance, carriages awaited for them. Camilla bit her lip and glanced away, her eyes catching the horizon where the estate ended. She'd never been beyond that line before. The thought made her chest tighten.

Her mother straightened the brooch at Camilla's neck, her fingers lingering there a moment too long. When she finally looked up, their eyes met. For a heartbeat, they both froze, as if the world had gone still.

Without a word, her mother brushed a stray curl from her daughter's forehead, letting her hand linger just long enough for Camilla to feel the warmth of it. That simple touch spoke of years of comfort, protection, and love-things that no imperial palace or Roman luxury could ever replace.

Camilla blinked quickly, her vision blurring.

She reached out, gripping her mother's wrist. The older woman paused, squeezing her daughter's hand in return, her own trembling now fully visible.

The carriage driver cleared his throat, breaking the moment. Camilla let go reluctantly, her fingers slipping away from her mother's as if afraid they might break the fragile connection between them. As soon as the three of them got in, everything would start, marking her final steps on the land she was born in.

The carriage door opened, and Camilla stepped inside, her family following. As the wheels creaked forward, she watched their estate shrink into the distance. Her mother’s hand rested on hers, a steady anchor, but Camilla’s mind raced. She was leaving everything she knew—her home, her cat, her sisters, the quiet life of Lusitania—for a future she could scarcely imagine.

The days blurred together. The roads were smooth but long, the air thick with dust from the carriage wheels. At night, they stopped at bustling way stations where soldiers ate loudly and her father drank wine with the Roman envoy.

Camilla spent her evenings seated beneath the stars, trying to sketch the landscapes that passed them-rolling hills, dense forests, and eventually, the glittering sea.

But no drawing could calm her nerves.

At one point, the party crossed a river.

Soldiers rode ahead, their reflections wavering in the water. Camilla felt a pang of unease as she realized how far they'd come.

Her mother noticed her melancholy and tried to cheer her. "Rome will be magnificent," she said. "Think of the temples, the gardens, the people."

"I'm thinking." Camilla replied, managing a faint chuckle as she raised her eyebrows sarcastically, but her mind wandered. Would they treat her kindly? Would her new husband care for her? She was only seventeen and felt as fragile as the thin veils she wore.

“It will be better in Rome.” Her mother assured, caressing the back of her neck.

Two months later, Rome appeared on the horizon, vast and gleaming under the sun.

She pressed her face to the cool glass of the carriage window, her breath misting it. The city seemed alive-columns of smoke from chimneys, crowds hurrying along wide thoroughfares, a roar of voices that reached even out here.

They swept through the front gates, between statues of giants and banners of crimson and gold. Soldiers were at attention, saluting; people stopped and stretched their necks for a glimpse of the carriage and the so talked new bride.

Camilla's heart pounded as they approached the Palatine Hill, where Julia Domna was waiting.

"Remember," her father whispered, "you are no longer just our daughter. You are the Marcellus legacy."

With fingers intertwined in a vise-like grip, Camilla pressed her nails against the flesh of her hands to avoid breaking into tears. She had hardly touched down in Rome, yet it was almost as if she was being dissected for every move, every fault. She briefly glanced at her father, but his composed demeanor could not calm her spiraling thoughts.

Her unknown groom loomed large in her mind. Who was he? Would he be kind-or cruel? The rumors she had heard about Roman emperors whispered dark fates for their wives. What if he didn't like her? Worse, what if he hurt her? The thought made her shiver.

She cast a glance toward her mother, who, for once, seemed unreadable. Her mother's usual soothing presence felt distant, replaced by an expression Camilla couldn't quite decipher-pride? Worry?

Regret?

The carriage came to a halt, and the footman pulled open the door. Camilla's heart dropped as a wave of hushed silence swept over the gathered crowd. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead, and stepped out into the dazzling sunlight, her mind still tangled with dread and the haunting question: What if he's a monster?

The grand hall was alive with murmurs, the expectations of the gathered senators, politicians, and dignitaries palpable. As the Marcellus family crossed the threshold, they were immediately met by the imposing figures of Julia Domna, the moment she entered the reception hall, the Augusta rose from her seat, her regal presence commanding the room.

She was every inch the powerful matriarch, her eyes sharp with the kind of authority that Camilla had only read about in her philosophical texts. Beside her, the two brothers stood, their faces betraying little of the emotions that might have been roiling beneath their expressions.

Caracalla, as always, stood slightly apart, his gaze steady but distant, as though he was sizing up the entire situation before making a move. He was known for his ambition, his need to dominate, but Camilla had heard whispers of his charm, of the way his confidence could make one feel seen-something that intrigued her, even though she had never spoken a word to him.

Geta, on the other hand, stood at Julia's side, quieter, perhaps more reserved in the shadows of his brother's more dominant presence. There was something about Geta's calm demeanor that left her unsure of where she stood.

Camilla's father, Lucius Marcellus, stepped forward, bowing deeply. His voice carried the practiced deference of a provincial noble addressing Rome's most powerful family.

"To the most revered Augusta Julia Domna and the noble Caesars, Imperatores Marcus Aurelius Antoninus and Publius Septimius Geta, the Marcellus family of Lusitania humbly presents itself."

Julia Domna's gaze, sharp and discerning, lingered on Camilla. A faint smile crossed her lips as she studied the young bride.

Lucius gestured gently toward his daughter, who stood hesitantly by her mother's side, clutching her cloak.

"May I present my daughter, Camilla Marcellus, who humbly comes to serve the imperial household and Rome itself."

Camilla gently bowed her head, her heart racing under the weight of so many eyes. She dared not lift her gaze to meet the imperious stares of the Caesars at either side of Julia Domna, though she could feel their scrutiny like a physical force.

After the family’s introduction, the Augusta graciously acknowledged their presence, “Senator Marcellus, Lady Marcellus, and your esteemed daughter, we welcome you to Rome, the eternal city that now looks forward to a union strengthening our shared destinies. Your presence honors us."

Her tone was regal yet approachable, she glanced meaningfully at Camilla as she continued,

"The journey from Lusitania is not a small one. You must be fatigued, yet you stand before us with grace. A testament, no doubt, to your noble lineage and fortitude."

Camilla’s grip on her robes tightens, raising her head to lock her eyes with her piercing ones,

Lucius gestures to their servants to bring the gifts forward.

Each item was meticulously unwrapped to showcase the Marcellus family's wealth and allegiance. He smiled proudly and spoke again,

"These, Augusta, are humble tokens of our reverence for Rome, for your illustrious family, and for the union that will further strengthen our bond with the dynasty."

Julia Domna and the brothers inspected the gifts with a keen eye, nodding approvingly.

There was a moment of silence as the gifts were presented, but the tension in the room was palpable. Camilla felt her palms grow clammy under the weight of the situation. Her eyes flickered to the two brothers - Caracalla first, who watched her with an air of quiet amusement. His sharp eyes lingered on her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Then, her eyes flickered to Geta, who stood silently beside their mother, his posture more reserved but no less imposing. He regarded her with a sense of seriousness that made her wonder if he knew more than he was letting on.

Julia Domna held up her hand, signaling for quiet. The room settled into an eerie silence. Her gaze, cool and calculating, swept over the two brothers, then to Camilla, and finally back to the Lusitanian family.

"It is truly a great honor to have you here, Camilla. The question remains, however.." Her voice dropped to a more playful tone, "..which of my sons will you be marrying?"

At this, Camilla's breath caught in her throat. She had known for months that this marriage was arranged, that it was political, but until now, she had never been told which son she would marry. Her mind raced as she turned to her father, but he gave her no reassurance. He simply watched the scene unfold, his face unreadable.

Julia's smile widened as she watched the confusion spread across Camilla's face.

The air was thick with tension, and Camilla's heart seemed to thump painfully in her chest.

And then, Julia Domna, clearly enjoying every second of the suspense, finally broke the silence with a voice that seemed to stretch the moment to its limits. "Well, then," she said, her smile now almost imperceptible, "I think we've kept the decision in suspense long enough."

She turned to Camilla, her eyes glimmering with mischief. "The decision has been made. But you shall not know which son will be your husband just yet."

The Empress's laugh, soft but chilling, rippled through the room, leaving Camilla with no choice but to nod, unsure of whether her future would lie with Caracalla's brash confidence or Geta's quiet composure.

The game, it seemed, had just begun.

lmk if u wanna get tagged ! | tags : @quuinyoung @mewchiili @darkwhisperswolf @peakygirl1919 @madmads007 @eirone-and-cheese @kitkat80

[fawninthesnow]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞: Part 2

𐙚 Emperor Geta x Fem Reader! 𐙚 18+

Summary: You are the daughter of General Marcus Acacius. After gaining your fathers blessing to join in at the palace, you run into a familiar face.

Warnings/contains: dom fem, f4m, teasing, pinning, size kink, praise, idealization, obsession, not proof read

Word Count: 2.5k

More on my Master list!

follow & like pls

“[Y/n], I would like to speak with you.” Your mother knocked upon the open door of your bedroom. You sighed aloud, taking off your jewels from the day. She moved behind you in the mirror, undoing your bun and undoing your small braids. “I will not ask why you are restless. I want to apologize to you. I know that…we *may* be more protective of you than-“

“I would call it absurd. This is absurd.” You turned to her, “I may not shop on my own! I may not take a walk by myself. Even as we speak, mother, a man watches!” You point to the guard that stood by your bedroom door. “I seem to never leave this place!”

“I know you are angry, but this is for the best!” You squinted with annoyance, throwing yourself onto your bed. “You are a beautiful young woman, [Y/n]! Moreover, you are our daughter! There are people who will want to hurt you.”

“I am aware of your worries, mother, but It is hard to believe the people of Rome know of my name, let alone what I look like!” You rolled over onto your back. Your father, General Marcus Acacius, now leaned on the post of your bed near your mother. “Now, I love you both dearly, but your words do not match your actions and I am tired of being left here to wait and rot! I am not one of your statues, Mother.” You stood in front of them now, your arms folded, and a crossed expression rid your gorgeous face.

To your surprise, your mothers’ hands clasped, and she sadly smiled. Her eyes welled, “Ahh, I am sorry. Y- you are just- you have grown so much.”

You tried not to fold under the pressure. It seemed whenever she got emotional, you found it hard to stand your ground. “Yes, yes, I have. And I want the freedoms of a woman. You say you want me to marry but the only men I have seen in the past few years were your guests, these brute guards and men of the Senate.” You said straightforward, avoiding your mother’s gaze, instead, looking into your father’s eyes.

The man sighed, holding his face in his hands. “What is it that you want?” He asked, officially surrendering to you. In that moment, you wondered if you had done this before on your 19th or 20th birthday.

“I want to follow you, Father.”

“Me? W- no! You cannot. It is too dangerous! Far too dangerous!”

You crossed your arms again and glared at him. “I barely see you as is! You will not let me join your army! You will not let me even speak in public! I want to be called your daughter. I want to follow you!”

Your Mother looked at her husband. She knew you had a point. You had a good reason to be emotional. “I do not know, Lucilla. This is dangerous.” She said nothing.

“That is all I want.” You said softer, close to your parents. “…for now.” Your father sighed.

“I will speak to you again in the morning.” He rubbed his forehead before leaving the room.

You balled your fists, looking away from the door, “Honey.” Your mother took your hand into hers, “It will be ok.”

“Does he hate me?”

“No. No, he could never. He is just tired. Do not stay up too late, ok? I love you.” She let go of your warm palm.

“I love you too.” You said as she left your bedroom. “Will you watch me change as well?!” You asked the guard who bowed his head and quickly left the bedroom.

The next morning, you were awakened by a servant with a tray of dyes for your makeup, with sage and frankincense for your perfume; separated into small bowls. “My Lady?”

“What is this?” You asked, moving the sheets from your body.

“Your father would like you to get dressed. I will do your hair today.” You tilted your head for a moment, rubbing your eyes. Another servant brought in a dress from your mother’s wardrobe from her youth.

“He said yes!?” You jumped from bed and dashed down the hall. The two servants continued to prepare you for your day as you pushed open your parents’ bedroom door. “Oh! Thank you! Thank you!” Your arms wrapped around your father’s waist. He kissed the top of your head.

“You should dress. We leave soon.”

*

Outside the home, you were helped onto your horse. “We will take the main streets.” Your father spoke, “Be sure to stay close to me. It can get crowded very quickly.” You nodded as the two of you, and a few guards who followed, entered the city. The last time you were here, you were being scolded. However, that was two weeks ago, and you never went this far in.

Your eyes flickered around at the stores and market. Children chased each other and women gathered water from fountains. Along side streets, men gambled and shouted. Inside of a cheap jewelry store, a mother bargained. Upon seeing your fathers face, people gathered around the horses, slowing down the group. “Keep your horse forward, [Y/n].” Your father spoke over the crowd. The city was rather overstimulating, and that was obvious. These people were obnoxious in your eyes. To you, this was just your father. Sure, he’s a decorated general, but this was the man that taught you math, dressed you in the mornings, learned how to braid your hair, collected flowers with you, and laid beside you when you fell ill. He was a man. Not a god. “[Y/n]?”

“Where are we even headed?” You asked as guards cleared the way for you and your father.

“To the palace.” He directed to the northeast of the path.

“The palace? Why?”

“I have business with the emperors.” You smirked. Something you adored was snooping. What a place to do so! “After, we can go wherever you please.”

“Sounds like a plan, Father.” Emperor. You hadn’t heard that title in a while. It had been weeks since that clown of a man called himself one to you. You remember that day like it was yesterday. That arrogant, short man. Just the thought him nearly made you laugh aloud. There was no way he would ever be emperor. That scrawny excuse of a man?

When you and your father arrived at the palace, he helped you off your horse; he held your palm, leading you up the steps.

A short man with his arms open greeted your father. Something about his face looked familiar, however, you had never seen him before; for sure. “Acacius! Haha! Hello, my friend!” Your father bowed to him, and you followed suit. “Ahh,” He held his own hands, admiring the face of the young woman standing beside his general. “And who might you be?”

“This is my daughter, [Y/n].”

“Ahh!” The man yelped with excitement. It was then you noticed the small animal on his shoulder. What is that? You wondered. “She is quite beautiful…mhh.” His eyes fell on your curves.

“Should we speak inside, Caracalla? And find your brother?” Your father asked, interrupting the thoughts of the emperor.

“Yes!”

He led the two of you inside, moving rather awkward without his brother. You looked at your father. “There is two, yes?” You whispered. He nodded.

You stayed outside the room as your father spoke to Caracalla. You leaned against the wall, listening in as they planned on a map. It was mostly your father speaking, and Caracalla feeding his monkey while nodding.

In the hall, the sound of loud shoes moving across the floor caught your attention. You looked over your shoulder. “Do not linger outside of there, servant.”

You frowned, turning your body to the sound of the familiar voice, “Do I look like a servant to you?” You asked, stepping closer, as did he. You face shone under the sunlight. The man stepped back and caught his breath.

“It is you! Yo-“

“Oh, shut up!” he gasped, “What are you even doing here?” You stepped closer and he moved back.

“I am an emperor! Of Rome!”

You laughed as he spoke with a nervous undertone. “Be honest, *you are* a servant, no?”

“I am the emperor! Are you ill?! Can you hear me?”

For a moment, you thought aloud, “But, isn’t the older brother supposed to be…bigger…” You circled around him like prey. He wondered if you had gotten taller since your last encounter. “…more commanding? This is rather disappointing…”

“I have had it with you. What is your business here?! Hm? Who even let you in?!”

You push him into a room across the hall. “Shut up. My father is right in that room!”

“Acacius! General Acacius!” You pulled him with you behind the door and covered his mouth, your other hand on the front of his throat.

“Say another word and I will snap your neck.” You said into his hair. “I guess you are the emperor…but that means little to me. For if my father finds out what you did in that garden, he will have your head.”

“Ahg! I did nothing. It was you!”

“Ha! You stained my dress, tiny! Even so, you speak if he’d believe your word over mine.” It was true, he most likely would not believe the emperor. You had your way with words. You had your way with threats. “Now, what to do with you…” He bit your hand before dashing from the room. You chased him down the hall and stopped him in his tracks. He gulped, looking up at you. “And where are you going?”

“Y- you cannot intimidate me! Not in my own palace!” You leaned down and held him by his chin. “T- these guards! They will stop you!”

“You are mistaken. They do not work for you. They work for my father.” The man gulped before wiping sweat from his brow. “I can do whatever I want with you. We can keep playing chase, sure.” You step out of the way, and he ran down into the field of grass, surrounded by fruit trees and such. You laughed at him, chasing him into the field before cornering him and pinning him to the grass.

“This will not work on me! Very soon, your father will catch you!”

“Oh really?” Your knee pressed between his crotch, pushing on his balls.

“Y- yes.” A feathered moan left his lips. “I- I want you t- to let go! Let go, I say!” You let go of his hands, however, he does not move.

“It seems you like this.” Your finger found its way on the wet tip of his penis, coated in precum.

“I d- do, no, I-” He said rather softly. “A- n- you are a bully! A rude woman! No man will ever have you!” You continued to tease and rub his tip, making it hard for him to speak.

“Is that so?” He bit his lip and looked down at the mess he made on your fingertips. “Look in my eyes, you pervert.”

“I am not a pervert.”

“You are a pervert.” You lean down into his ear, gently kissing and suckling on the skin. “Only a pervert likes getting bullied by a woman in broad daylight. Only a pervert likes having his body exposed in an open field…under a woman.” Your hair dangled in his face; your bosom pressed on his chest as he hyperventilates.

His eyes opened wide, and he rose from under you. “I will not entertain you any longer.”

“Come here…Geta, was it?”

“I-“ He stepped away from you once more.

“Geta.” You say, inching closer. “You are too small; you will never escape me.” He held his crotch, trying to stop his throbbing shaft from its movement. The emperor fixed his toga, only for his crown to fall off his head. He groaned, growing flustered. “Do I make you nervous or something…?” You twirled his laurel crown around your finger. You looked heavenly from his view. He felt as if he had come face-to-face with Venus herself. “This crown means nothing, you know? Do you even feel like an emperor when you wear it?” He did not reply but you knew the answer. As you moved closer, your purple dress held onto your hips and swayed with every step. You placed his crown on your head, “Do I look pretty?” You knew he would agree. You are stunning, how could *anyone* deny that? And with that gold crown over your head? It was hard to believe the gods did not hand deliver you to your parents. “I know what you are feeling…why so shy?”

“Leave me be, woman!”

“Come here, little boy.” You tilt your head, offering your palm, “I will make you feel better.”

“I- I am…the emperor…”

“Sure.”

“I wear the crown.”

“Fine, take it.” You tossed it back to him. For some reason, it seemed to lose its meaning. It did not feel as heavy as before. It felt cheap, pointless, useless. Was it really a symbol of the gods if a goddess denies it?

“Acacius…he will not be happy.”

“My Father will not know.” You giggled, twirling his hair.

“See?! I knew it! You are a deceiver!” The emperor took off his shoes and ran back into the palace before turning into the room where General Acacius and his brother leaned over the table. He caught his breath. You stood behind the man and caressed his side. He jumped, and whined, “S- she’s-“

“Oh! Emperor Geta.” Your father bowed to the man, and you did the same, smiling at him. “Good morning.”

He looked between you and your father; the resemblances were undeniable. You squinted at him as if daring him to say something to your father. Geta moved away from you. “…proceed with the meeting.” You went back to your place by the pillar, watching him from afar. He felt uncomfortable, hot under his collar. The general spoke of invasion plans to the north of India. Although you should have cared, your attention was set on the nervous mess in front of you.

The meeting carried on faster than you would have expected. The two emperors walked you both to the entrance, exchanging pleasantries. You lean towards Caracalla, and he happily kisses both of your cheeks. Towards Geta, he resentfully kisses your right cheek, “…I will see you again very soon…” You whisper.

He froze in shock, “No. No, you will not.” You smirked and he groaned, kissing your left cheek. “Stay away from me…”

“It was delightful meeting you, emperor Geta.” You spoke so condescendingly, he felt so small, like a peasant when in comparison to you. When you pulled away from him, and climbed on your horse, Geta adjusted his garments, his cock stayed hard throughout the morning. He had to admit that you were some form of a goddess; maybe it was your figure, or your personality, but something within him felt as if this connection had to be holy, divine. His hips ached, and his tip was wet with lust. He would never admit it to you, that would only boost your ego.

This part was a request! (Originally, was a one shot.) Let me know if you all want a part 3!!

Part one on my Master list!

follow & like pls

[blythsholland]

Joseph Quinn Moodboard

The new pics of him are giving literature profesor, but also a PhD or masters student!

[jksprincess10]

Storm || Eric x reader

A/N: I fear I'm back in my Joe Quinn phase after watching a quiet place day one, don't look at me.

Summary: There's a thunderstorm and you can finally make noise.

CW: fluff, smut, eric is kinda shy and soft, reader has a bush, pre-established relationship implied, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, eric loves eating pussy, protected p in v, reader is a tad more dominant, minimal editing.

(1.3k words)

divider by @saradika-graphics

There is only one way to make love when any sound could lead to death: silently.

But when the outside is louder, when thunder tears the sky apart, when rain pitter-patters loudly against the asphalt, you can be as loud as you want.

In the darkness of your apartment, the first flash of thunder and the trickle of the rain provokes immediate joy. He knows too, his usually big, innocent eyes veiled by lust. Like Pavlov’s dog, Eric knows how to react when the outside sounds get louder and louder.

“Yes.” You immediately confirm what you want, and he gives in to you.

You wrap your hands around his neck as he brings you into a soaring kiss that makes you moan against his plush lips. You feel like you’re outside in the rain, drowning. Your fingers trail down his neck until you come across his first buttons, that you undo expertly, along with tossing aside his ridiculous tie. Despite everything, Eric still insisted on dressing like the lawyer student he once was.

Under the soft candlelight, you discover his pale skin, his soft body like it’s the first time. He takes care of your sweater, pulling it over your head.

“You’re beautiful.” You whisper, out of habit.

“Stop.” Eric reacts, his voice under the flow of his British accent. “You are.”

His arms are around your waist, pulling you close as he nuzzles your breasts that you hadn’t bothered covering up with a bra (who cares it’s the fucking end of the world, right?). The tip of his tongue shyly teases the tip of a hard nipple. Too used of being gentle, quiet.

“More, please.” You beg softly.

He sucks the flesh into his warm mouth, and your body arches against his chest, pushing your ass into his careful hands. Eric’s right hand come up to your other breast, caressing and squeezing the fat until you’re letting out pretty moans for him. 

Your hands come down to his leather belt, that you’re soon discarding on the floor with a loud metal clank. But you don’t care, as the thunder is already responding even louder. You’re both taking each other’s pants off embarrassingly fast, and he’s pushing you on your couch until you’re splayed out for him, a beautiful painting under a warm glow, occasional cold light revealing more. His nose traces your covered mound, inhaling the soft laundry scent of your floral panties.

The rain is still pouring, taping violently against your apartment windows as he pulls down your panties, freeing the dark curls and the wetness of your slit.

“You never told me if it bothered you –”

“What? This?” He’s asking as a finger curls around some of the untamed hair. His tone is almost mocking, and you feel your cheeks heating up.

“Yes.”

“I quite like it, actually. You look like a woman. And this is what I want. ” He punctuates his words with an index trailing over your slit, making you shudder. Your fingers tangle in his unruly, soft brown curls, pushing him closer to where you want him. You know he can never resist eating pussy, it’s probably his favorite meal. He spreads your lips with his fingers, keeping you open for him as his pink tongue lays flat against your slit, caressing and experimenting.

As the thunder growls, you remember you can show him your appreciation freely. Your mouth hangs open, and as his plush lips latch around your clit, you moan his name. And it’s the most beautiful song he has ever heard.

“You’re always so good to me, Eric.” You praise him softly, the tips of his ears reddening when you compliment him.

Eric sucks even harder before letting go to caress all of you with the flat of his tongue. Your ass lifts off the couch without really wanting too, pushing more of you into his mouth. He licks and sucks messily, wet sounds filling the air. You like him like this, free and disheveled. One of his fingers breach your hole, stretching you slowly. You want to tell him you won’t break, but you don’t know how, your mind blurry with pleasure.

A strangled “more” is all you can let out, and he listens, pushing another finger in. He thrusts them almost all the way out, then in, curling them at the right angle as his numb tongue keeps sucking. You fall apart just in time for the next thunder crack, a cry coming out of your throat as you gush around Eric’s fingers. His lips are wet with your juices as he comes up for air, climbing on the couch to kiss you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him on top of you as you lay down.

“Make love to me.” You whisper against his lips, your hands trailing down his body to take off his boxer briefs. Your hand circles the base, teasing his cock with a slow movement of up-and-down, momentarily distracting you from your wish.

“Don’t you want me to make love to you?” He whispers in your hair in an amused tone.

“Yes. But I like this. I like touching you.”

Eric chuckles and pushes your hand away. “Stop. I want you.”

 He gets up momentarily to get a condom and covers his cock with it, pumping himself as he gazes down at the perfection that you are, laid peacefully on the couch. You rarely look as relaxed, and he cherishes those moments when you’re not fearing for your life.

You beckon him closer with a movement of your fingers, and he lays on top of you. He’s always so careful with you.

“Hold me.” You wrap your legs around his middle and push him closer. His arms wrap around your neck as he fills you up, slowly, inch by inch. Your eyes flutter closed; you can barely see the violent lightning anymore; you can only hear it. But you try to concentrate on Eric’s heavy breathing in your ear. He stops when his hips are flush with yours, just holding you peacefully.

“I love you.”

You don’t know if you’ll live to see another day, but you love him and it’s the only certainty.

“I love you, too.” He kisses your brow, your nose, and your lips. You keep him there, your tongue tangling with his as he starts moving gently.  Your moans die in his mouth, and you realize how much you crave him, harder, faster. You push him off you and he looks at you with concern until climb on top of him.

“You won’t break me. Fuck me like you mean it. Fuck me like it’s our last day alive.”

You align him with your pussy, and you sink down. His reprieve is short, as you’re already bouncing on top of him. He moans obscenities, covered by the sound of the rain. His hands wrap tightly around your hips and his thrusts meet yours in a chaotic, unsynchronized dance that you both make work. The two of you are letting out cries freely, and it’s somehow liberating.

“Come for me, Eric.” You let out between strangled moans.

He slows down, thrusting harder and deeper.

“Not before you, love. Touch yourself.”

You anchor yourself to the couch with a hand on the leather underneath your bodies, your free hand coming down to play with your clit. You try not to fall as he keeps fucking up into you, in a slow but rough pace.

“That’s it baby. God, you’re so hot.” He says it like it’s physically hurting him.

With another one of his deep thrusts, your walls tighten around him and you come with a final moan. You then let him use you, until he’s also done. Your body falls on top of his, and you caress his sweaty curls as he whispers sweet nothings to you.

You love storms.

[harringtons-cupid]

could you write about joseph getting surprised on set by his partner? like he goes to his trailer to decompress (and maybe rub one out to the thought of you) between filming, but to his shock, you’re already there, sprawled out on the bed in a burgundy lingerie set he choose out for you. he has no choice but to scoop you up and fuck you against the wall, ripping your panties and moaning about how good you feel ehehehehehehe 🫣

Thank you so much for this ask, so I kind of changed it a little! But I hope you still like it!

Smut: 18+ : Cunnilingus, trailer sex, female masturbation, dirty talk. Fingering, clit spanking. Bent over knee. Creampies, finger sucking. Cum eating.

Other: Possessive Joe

Joe had been filming intensely all week, every time you saw him he would smile weakly and blink through those sleepy eyes. Collapsing asleep onto the bed before you even had a chance to speak to him.

The process repeated itself until you woke up one morning with a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, your thighs squeezed together to ignore the throbbing.

Shuddering as you clambered out of bed, biting your lip as your clit rubbed against your thighs as you walked. Bending down with a gasp to open your underwear drawer, after searching for a few minutes.

You finally found it, the lingerie set that Joe had bought you. Never having a chance to wear it, you stripped and changed with a whimper.

Lying on the bed admiring yourself in the burgundy set, you moved your legs together to create a tiny bit of friction to burn some of the heat that was erupting.

Continuing to masturbate until you couldn't take it anymore and desired more than your own thighs.

Pulling an outfit out of the wardrobe and shoving it into your nearest bag, you slung a long black cloak around your body with a shiver and headed out of the door.

Your clit throbbed as you drove yourself towards the set, dazzling a smile at the security from your passenger window and continuing in the direction of his work trailer.

Checking your surroundings before knocking softly on the door, with no answer you pushed the door open.

It was warmer than your car and the outdoors, instantly dropping the cloak once behind closed doors. You meandered in the direction of his bedroom, it smelt of him.

Your bag tucked neatly under the bed, you positioned yourself in the centre and opened your legs.

After waiting for what seemed like an age, the door to the trailer finally crept open, and quiet mumblings filled the kitchen and living area until his footsteps vibrated across the floor towards you.

★ ★ ★

Joe had been pulled and prodded all morning in the makeup and costume chairs, he was positioned and directed until tiredness crept up. He took a twenty-minute break before he was told that he would be performing a sex scene.

His mind shifted to you as he shoved a sock over his cock, trying to think of anything but sexual images of you as he was directed into the scene.

Once it was over and his lips were dry, guilt seeped through his veins as he wandered back to the trailer.

Images of you found their way back into his mind, ones he had suppressed earlier and he waddled towards the trailer with a raging hard-on. In need of release.

Mumbling to himself as he noticed the car outside the trailer but told himself that he was dreaming and he was only horny for you.

There was no way you would come to see him at work, you had only been on set once or twice and you hated it.

Everyone oggled you and jealously overcame him, warning you to only come back if he asked you.

You were his and only his.

Still mumbled as he made his way towards the bedroom, his cock now chafing against his boxers and jeans. Needing to be freed more than anything. He pushed the door open slightly, unprepared for the sight in front of him.

He stumbled on words as his mouth opened and closed in surprise, smirking at you as he noticed you staring at his obvious bulge.

Toying with his belt buckle, slowly letting his jeans fall to the ground. Not moving any closer to you as you widened your legs and pleaded with your eyes.

Biting your lip as your hand played with your constrained breast, your eyes never leaving his as you waited patiently for him to claim you.

As you waited for as long as you could, your hand had snaked down towards your thighs and your hips bucked against your palm. You began to whine.

''Please Joe, come fuck me'' Gasping as your hand palmed through the fabric of your panties.

Watching as he sighed with arousal heavily before dropping his boxers onto the floor, his cock was leaking with precum.

Edging closer to the bed where you lay, he bent down until his nose grazed your stomach and his teeth curled around the frilly part of your panties.

In one swift motion, he pulled them off you. Letting them drop to your ankles, with a shuddering gasp he dipped his head closer to your aching clit.

His eyes stared into you as his tongue moved in circular movements, your legs snapped tightly around his neck as your hips jerked with him.

The sounds of your moans and odd creaking filled the small trailer bedroom, his eyes were full of greed as he coached you closer to your orgasm.

Your legs shook heavily, as they slipped from around his neck. Your moans turned into whines, and he continued to suck and lick your clit until you were a quivering mess underneath him.

Not saying else for a few moments as he allowed you to catch your breath before breaking the heated silence.

''Stand up and face that wall'' his voice was steady and collected, towering over you.

He watched as you shakily did as you were told, struggling to hold yourself up as you used the wall for support. Eagerly watching him stride across the tiny area towards you with a smirk.

His arms slipped beneath you, grasping on your skin as his hard cock brushed against your wet thigh. With your front pressed firmly against the wall, he positioned himself closer to your entrance.

Teasing you slightly before edging himself inside you with a gasp, your pussy spasmed around his cock as you adjusted yourself to being filled up.

Whimpering softly into his ear as his cock hit the top of your walls, he began to thrust deeply inside you. Hitting your chest against the wall, hissing at the slight pain.

Not seeing his face was disapointing but the position currently was causing your legs to quiver. It felt incredible.

Your legs were spread as far apart as they could get without hurting you too much.

Joe was groaning into your ear as his hands gripped your body, thrusting you hard into thin walls of the trailer as his cock got deeper.

“I have been thinking about you all day” he said between thrusts.

You could tell by how hard he was thrusting inside you, not caring. You needed this release.

“What have you been thinking about?” You urged him on further.

“Oh lots of things baby, fucking you raw like this. Bending you over my lap, making sure my cum is deep inside you” he groaned.

“Please do as you say, I need that from you” you whined, your clit was twitching.

Your panties had been ripped, pulled aside to make room for his fat cock.

You were getting close to cumming yourself but you held it in, Joe was the important one here.

Grinding your own hip against his cock, he whimpered at the feeling.

“God you feel so good baby, I’m so close” he panted heavily.

“Cum for me Joe, please” you begged him.

Increasing your movement with his, you watched as he shivered. Before exploding hard, his cum leaked inside you.

His body was twitching from his orgasm, his fingers gripping into your shoulder as he moaned loudly into your ear.

He didn’t stay inside you for long once his cum had been emptied inside you.

Bending you over his lap as his cum seeped out of you, he dove his fingers inside your filled pussy.

Fingering you deeper and every time his tried to escape, he shoved his fingers down your throat.

“Good girls take cum in every hole” he smirked at you.

You were a mess on his lap as he continued making you cum 3 times from his fingers.

When there was a knock at the door, he didn’t stop fingering you. Forcing you to change into your clothes, pulling you onto his lap and throwing a blanket between you.

“Come in” he smirked at you.

Trying to limit the movement between you both as his assistant scolded him for being later, she blushed at the mess and smell of sex in the air.

Leaving you both too it, the movement she left. He pulled the blanket off you, one hand fingering your pussy and the other spanking your clit.

“Are you going to behave if I go to rehearsal? He eyed you.

Sitting his hoodie, still on the edge of an orgasm. Needing to cum one last time.

He dropped to his knees, spreading your legs and licked your clit. You ground against his face, you were already close to your orgasm.

Cumming onto his face and into his beard, your moans were loud. Rocking the bed of the trailer as you came the hardest you came today.

“Bye baby, such a good pussy” he smirked.

Kissing all your cum onto your face and mouth, giving your clit one more spank before heading out the door.

[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

[icallhimjoey]

please bestie i want some soft love that's so second nature joe doesnt even have his attention with you whilst he gives it, please can you write something like that?

im not allowed to write right now because work and stress and boundaries and mental health etc etc so 🥰fuck you🥰 for this Wordcount: 1.8K

---

Cotton Soft Touches Gentle Voices Smooth

“What are you doing?”

You barely even heard Joe ask the question from across the room. You were so buried in whatever was happening on TV, focus completely zoomed in, mind somewhere else entirely. It took Joe another try for you to register the question directed at you.

“Hey. What are you doing?”

“Hmm?” you turned your head to Joe before your eyes followed and for a moment, you just slowly blinked at him. Something about his face combined with the fact that it really took you a minute to find yourself back in the room made you smile. You were so cosy.

“Watching TV.” you answered innocently, because you were, eyes back on the screen already.

You were warmly nestled into the sofa, curled up, knees pulled in, all comfortable in your white ribbed cotton pyjamas. The throwpillows and blankets on the sofa created the perfect nest for you to happily curl up into.

Snug.

Soft ambient light from several lamps placed in strategic corners lit up the room just enough. If you stood and opened the curtains a bit more, you could still catch the faint and fading oranges of the sunset.

You were shower fresh, limbs covered by white clean cotton, nose still a little cold from the difference in temperature after getting out of the hot stream, and wet hair cool where it touched your skin.

But you felt so warm.

So fucking cosy.

When you’d walked back into the living room post shower, skin glossy and wet hair brushed back, Joe had installed himself at the dinner table with his laptop and a notebook.

He’d cleared away the mess from dinner and had turned his spot into a desk.

“Just need to do these e-mails,” he said after you’d let your arms curl around him from behind, arms that he grabbed hold of for a second, and you kissed the top of his head.

“Will only be a minute.”

You’d left him to it then, not minding that Joe had some work to do, just happy that he was in the same room instead of hidden away in what he called the office and you called the guest bedroom.

The ‘only a minute’ easily turned into an hour plus. Joe kept busy on both his computer and his phone, and would sometimes scribble some things down onto paper. There was a phone call or two, just quick “Sorry to call so late, but have you seen the...” and, “Hey, yea, I'm just reading it now, can I call you back in a minute?” type things.

Joe became background noise to you the second you snuggled up, and similarly the low sounds coming from the TV were just a nice reminder that Joe wasn’t alone.

But then, halfway through typing a response to an e-mail, something in Joe’s peripheral vision caught his attention.

Something moving slowly.

A little rhythmically.

When he peeked over his laptop screen and saw his girlfriend looking just about the most comfortable she’d ever looked, he didn’t even think you were aware that you were doing it.

In your layers of soft cream fabrics, head slumped to the side, Joe saw how you let your fingers softly skim over the area below your ear. They danced in circles and lines by your jaw, onto your cheek just a little before trailing back to your neck and—

That was what Joe always did.

That’s where Joe let his fingers draw shapes.

He would brush some hair from your face and would then let his fingertips linger, and it always made you hum. Made you relax. Gave you tingles that made your hearing go funny for a second.

Joe watched you lazily self soothe, and after a moment he decided that he’d actually done enough work. He could finish this e-mail tomorrow.

“What are you doing?”

“Hmm? Watching TV.”

Your eyes were back on the screen before Joe could’ve even said anything about how you were touching yourself.

It was nothing sexual - not really. Not what he was witnessing right now anyway. He imagined it just felt nice.

He closed his laptop and got up from his seat, and without looking away from the TV, you moved to make space for Joe next to you, knowing he’d make his way over to press himself into your side.

Joe smiled as you moved blankets aside but kept that one hand near your ear, index finger mapping out your hairline towards the nape of your neck and back.

Instead of sitting down though, Joe pushed a knee into the sofa right next to your thigh and placed his fingers right were yours were, pushing them aside.

“I do this,” Joe said as he hovered over you, and you grinned as you let your head fall to the side more. “This is my job.”

Joe tickled his fingers along your soft skin, fresh and clean from the shower, and it only took a few seconds for you to sigh into his touch.

It was nicer when Joe did it.

“S’nice?” Joe murmured, still with just one knee on the sofa, and you hummed, eyes closed, nodding.

“Is nicer when you do it.”

“Yea?”

Joe leant forward to press a kiss to your cheek, getting you just under your eye, and then he moved to sit down next to you.

After a shuffle of throws, pillows, and limbs, you found yourself under Joe’s arm, curled up into his side.

You were comfortable before, but this would always be infinitely better.

“Hmm, you smell nice.” Joe commented after taking a moment to press his nose into your still damp hair.

“Yea? What do I smell like? Shampoo?” you whispered, voice not wanting to be any louder.

Joe easily bit, taking the invitation to get another real good whiff of you, his whole face now pressing into the crook of your neck.

You relished the attention, feeling fuzzy on the inside, heat blooming in your chest.

“Yea, sort of lemony… all fresh and clean.”

You blushed and were unable to hide your smile as you settled together for some TV watching, warm bodies pressed together, always fitting just right somehow.

Joe’s arm rested on the back of the sofa and bent around your head just right for his fingers to play. To touch the skin around your ear like you’d been doing before. To lightly trail and leave goosebumps down your whole body.

You could easily fall asleep like this, legs intertwined, head on his chest.

You lazily watched TV in silence for a while and if Joe was going to keep up the barely there shapes drawn down your neck you knew you actually would fall asleep.

It was becoming difficult to keep your eyes open, every blink a comfortable invitation to just keep them closed, but then the soft buzzing of Joe’s phone pulled you both from your haze.

Joe had your earlobe in between his fingers when he answered, and for a moment you were fully expecting him to get up. Move to where his laptop lay shut to open it once more to maybe finish something he hadn’t yet.

But when you tried to sit up a little for Joe to slip out of this cocoon you’d created, you felt his arm tense. He wasn’t letting go of the soft skin of your ear and to make sure you stayed put, he bent a leg to keep yours in place.

“It’s past ten, mate,” Joe answered and although you didn’t know who was calling him, just from his tone of voice you knew it wasn’t work related.

Joe gently rubbed your earlobe between his fingers and it felt so nice, it turned the world blurry as you unfocused your eyes.

When you relaxed back into him, sinking into the line of his body, Joe tilted his head down to look at you, barely catching your little smile but happy to see you were still enticed by whatever was happening on TV.

You weren’t though.

Not really.

Because as Joe spoke, he let his fingers continue what they’d been doing and if he thought you were able to try to follow his conversation as well as what you were watching whilst he made you melt with his touch, he was wrong.

You were bad at multitasking on a good day, and you knew Joe was too. The fact that he was somehow able to keep you lax and floating whilst simultaneously being mentally present for this phone call was impressive.

Joe laughed through casual conversation with a friend who had some questions about future plans they’d made. Their chat quickly turned into a hey-now-that-I’ve-got-you-on-the-phone catch up.

The low vibrations from his smooth voice were nice. You felt them where your face rested on his chest and relished in the tender love you were receiving that felt like a second nature sort of thing.

“No, I’m just at home. Watching TV.”

Not being mentioned suddenly made Joes fingers feel a little scandalous. Like the person on the phone wasn’t allowed to know you were there and how he was making you feel right now.

It got a little worse when you felt how Joe let his fingers trail down your neck to disappear into your pyjama top where they slowly caressed over your collarbone.

Your voice let a little noise escape when his hand snuck back up again, finding its way into your hair, and Joe chuckled lowly.

You let yourself balance on the borders of consciousness, half asleep with thoughts so far removed from where you were, yet half laser focused on Joe’s fingers and where they tickled your skin.

Unsure of when you’d drifted off, or when Joe had finished his phone call, the next thing you registered was a soft and low far away, “Have I done a plait?” that pulled you back into the room a little more.

With your eyes still closed you reached a heavy hand up to feel what was essentially just a twirled strand of hair, not a plait at all.

You couldn’t hide the little smile that spread at how adorable you thought it was that Joe’d just been playing with your hair and thought he’d actually done something.

He hadn’t.

He just made you feel loved, which was actually far better than a plait.

“Mhm,” you hummed approvingly, snuggling up into Joe more, understanding that it was likely much smarter to just get up and find your way into bed, but you’d quite literally never been more comfortable before.

“I’ve done a plait.” Joe whispered, gleefully proud of himself and making sure that you knew, that you’d heard him, give him some praise.

“Well done.” You lied, because he’d not done a plait, but that was okay.

You weren’t going to shoot yourself in the foot, because you were about to sink back into sleep and there was just one thing that’d make you feel even more comfortable.

That would send you right back off into sleep.

 “Do another.”

---

The Taglisted

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

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

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

@harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven

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

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

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

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

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

@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

[tippenstoepens]

Prettiest Girl in the Room

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

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

Wordcount: 1.8k

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

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

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

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

“Good morning, Mrs. Henderson.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Henderson.”

“Good to see you, Mrs. Henderson.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, come on. I want a real answer.”

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

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

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

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

“Next!” Jackson jeered.

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

Holly dramatically adjusted herself in her seat to face Joe.

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

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

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

Holly exhaggerated a pout to play off the embarrassment. 

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

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

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

…

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

“25D… 25, 25, 25…” Alex repeated.

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

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

Joe shushed all three of them. 

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

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

“Have you got your key?”

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

“Well, I guess-“ “I think you’re-“

“Oh, sorry.” 

“No, no,” you said. “I, um…”

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

“Good night,” he said softly.

“Good night,” you barely whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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