#Joseph Quinn smut

[lovebugism]

✶ ┄ HOLY GRAIL !

part one | part two

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was known to everyone in Rome except its Emperors.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Death is death.

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

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

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

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

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

Marcus nods wordlessly in response.

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

“Well… What is it?”

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

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

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

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

The ground sways beneath Geta’s unsteady feet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geta mistakes your fear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just giving you your privacy, your majesty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geta grins wide. “Good answer, Acacius.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lokis-army-77]

Private Viewing

Camboy!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 6.8k

What happens when your favorite camboy is in your class? You should stop watching his content... or should you? What happens when you are eventually paired together for a project? Everything will be just fine, won't it?

Warning: 18 +. This is pure fucking filth. Spit, masturbation (m and f), use of vibrators and fleshlight, choking, multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (f reviving), fingering, voyeurism? Soft!dom Eddie, tell me if I'm missing anything.

Thank you @lesservillain for giving me this wonderful idea. 💗 and @munson-blurbs for figuring out if I should do this for Steve or Eddie and for helping give me a title💗.

Masterlist

Nothing but slick sounds filled your room, the occasional deep moan calling out from your laptop speakers accompanying your own sweet cries. The guy on the screen, Ed as he called himself, or DungeonMaster as he was known on Only Fans and Twitter, was fisting his cock in his heavily ringed hand. He was putting on a show for more than ten thousand viewers but the way he stared down the camera with those dark eyes made you think he was watching you, fucking his hand to the way you were pumping your fingers in and out of your soaking wet pussy. 

You had stumbled upon his Twitter three months ago and he immediately captured your eye. The way his tattoos wrapped around his pale skin, how he wasn’t all lean muscle like the other OF guys, his tummy by no means a six-pack but he still looked strong enough to sweep you off your feet with ease. His moans were heavenly and so was the deep timber of his force as he praised you through the thirty-second video clip. It was all enough to convert you from your usual consumption of smutty books to the infamous Only Fans sight. 

Since then, his streams and videos have become the one and only thing you get off to. And like then, tonight was no exception. 

You were so close to the edge, Ed’s moans spurring you on. Your fingers move at an almost inhuman pace in and out, in and out. 

“Rub that clit for me, baby. Need you to cum.” He groaned, head resting on his shoulder as he continued you pleasure himself. 

“Fuck!” You gasp as you rub your clit with your free hand. Your rhythm is horribly off but it doesn’t matter, you are so close to cumming. So so so close. “Please,” you beg out into your empty room. You aren’t too sure why or what you are pleading for. More friction? More fingers? More words of encouragement from him? Maybe you’re asking to cum? 

It’s like he had heard you through the screen as he moaned out, “That’s a good girl. Just like that. Doing so well for me. You gonna cum baby? Yeah? Me too. Want me to count for you?” He nods his head lazily. “I knew you would baby. Okay. Five.”

You want to cry.

“Four.” 

The strings tugging inside you are becoming taut.

“Three.”

You feel like you’re going to explode. He’s counting too slowly.

“Two.”

The tears are flowing now.

“One.”

You let out a strangled scream.

“Cum baby. Do it, now.”

Your walls clench around your fingers and your legs snap shut, trapping your fingers. Every muscle in your body is shuddering as those strings snap and your release comes out in a stream, wetting your hand and the bed. Your hearing has gone, there’s a ringing in your ears but you can faintly hear Ed cumming as well. 

With watery vision and slow movements, you turn to face your laptop screen just in time to see his tattoo-covered chest painted with milky white ropes of cum. 

When the ringing subsides you hear him say more clearly, “Thata girl. Always make me cum so much.” He takes a towel and wipes off his chest and stomach before adjusting the camera view to the shoulders up. “Get you some rest baby, I’ll see you on Thursday.” 

And then the live is over. 

Slowly, sluggishly, you remove your hands from between your legs and begin the now regular clean-up routine before going to bed. 

…

Three days later, Thursday rolls around, and thus begins the fall semester of your junior year of college. It’s a groggy morning, everyone is tired and very unenthusiastic about having an 8 a.m. advanced music composition class. 

You had struggled to get out of bed at six this morning just to get one of the dorm showers first before they were all taken up. Luckily two of the five were open and you were able to get to class a whole twenty minutes early, even having time to grab coffee at the on-campus Starbucks on the way.

The music building was old and the tables you and your fellow students sat at were even older. It all added to the sleepy ambiance. Your eyes drooped and you yawned every time someone else did, the black coffee you had chugged not doing anything for you. 

You’re only awoken when your professor, a stout old man with a very severe receding hairline, slams open the door to the classroom a little too hard and it hits the brick wall, creating a loud, startling bang. 

He apologizes before making his introduction.  He then gets out a clipboard with a sheet attached and hands it off to a girl in the front row, instructing everyone to fill in their name and school email for his role sheet.

It’s only once you’ve finished and passed the clipboard on, that you notice the guy two seats down from you looks vaguely familiar. You can’t quite put a finger on it and it bugs you. 

His hair is pulled back into a messy bun and his clothes make him look like the alternative guy of your dreams back in high school. He’s got rings on almost every finger and an aura that just screams confidence. 

It begins to become a problem, your inability to place this guy's face. You’ve only taken a handful of notes the entire first hour and thirty minutes into this two-hour class. Your eyes are constantly staring at him no matter how hard you try to make yourself pay attention. 

Then, he raises his hand to answer one of your professor's questions. That’s when it clicks. Your pen falls from your grasp and your mouth forms an O. 

“Oh my fucking god. No. It can’t be.” You think to yourself but just to be sure you take out your phone, turn the brightness and volume down, and hide it under the table. You open Twitter as fast as you can and you don’t even have to look for his user, he’s the first post on the screen. 

Ed @ DungeonMaster86 was boldly displayed above a picture of the guy sitting next to you with his massive dick in his hand. 

It’s a wonder you weren’t caught with how you practically choked on thin air and began furiously looking from your phone to the guy and then back to your phone. 

Your stomach drops. You can’t keep watching his videos, can you? That wouldn’t be right. That would be weird, watching the porn your classmate makes. 

When class is finally called to an end you pack up as quickly as you can and bolt out the door to your next class, hoping that by getting away from Ed, you'd be able to concentrate. Out of sight, out of mind.

That statement turns out to be false when he is in your next class and when you spot him in the student commons talking with another guy. It's like once you made the connection of who he was, he was everywhere.

…

Arriving back at your dorm, you throw your backpack on your desk, snatch your laptop out of it, and struggle to jump up onto your bed. Never had you been so thankful for the single dorm than this moment as your curser hovered over the bookmarked Only Fans page at the top of your screen. No roommate meant no one would see the moral dilemma you were currently losing with yourself. 

‘You know him, it’s wrong to keep watching his videos.”

‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him though. The only way he would know you are watching is if you tell him, you aren’t going to tell him, are you?’

‘No…’ 

‘Then it’s okay, it’ll just add an extra element of taboo to his streams. Plus, he’d miss you in the chat.’

You sigh as the devil on your shoulder wins out once again, talking you into something you know you shouldn’t be. But hey, it feels good to be bad. 

Steadily, you click on his bookmarked profile and the first thing to pop up is the live stream that is currently in session. And against your better judgment, you enter the stream.

He’s only just started, people are slowly filtering in. Ed is sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt off, and a singular, ringed hand teasing himself through his black jeans. 

You breathe a sigh as he looks into the camera, eyes half-lidded, luring you in. It does the job, because in an instant your fingers are typing out a message in chat. 

Princess23: hi Ed

His eyes flicker as he reads his messages, smiling as he replies to you. "Hi, Princess. How's my girl been?"

There's a bubble of excitement at the fact that he recognizes your username, even if you've been a regular in the chat for months.

Princess23: stressful… you've been distracting me.

The reply to his question is truer than he realizes. 

"Aww, princess, is that so? You've been thinking of me?" He leans back on his free elbow, still groping himself with the other hand.

Princess23: yes. been thinking about your cock, how much I want it in my mouth. 

It's one of the less bold comments you make but it makes you blush all the same, especially now.

"Yeah? You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth? Of yours?"

Princess23: yes please

"Mmm." He hums, fingers now fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans. 

You set your laptop to the side and start to situate yourself. Slowly taking your clothes off one by one. 

Ed replies to a few more comments before announcing that it's time to start.

He leaves the screen for just a moment before coming back with something in his hand. Smirking at the camera he shows it. A flashlight in the shape of a mouth.

"This one’s for you, Princess. Since you need my dick so bad," Ed explains. He sets it on his bed before making a show of taking his jeans and boxers off. 

As you watch, your hands roam your body. Fingers pinching and pulling at your sensitive nipples before trailing down. The light touch over your ribs makes you giggle. Then you rub and scratch at the inside of your thighs. 

Ed's moans are now coming through your speakers, you tilt your head to watch.

"Spit on my cock baby, get it nice and wet for me." He commands before spitting in his own hand and rubbing it on his thick length. 

"Your mouth looks so pretty like this, waiting, drooling for me. Need me to fill it so bad don't you, baby?" 

"Yes." You answer him breathlessly, fingers teasing around your mound. 

You watch and he sits back down on his bed, thighs spread, a hand cupping his balls and the other grabbing the fleshlight. He lets out a long, drawn-out moan when he inserts his cock into the fake mouth. 

"Fuck baby, your mouth feels so perfect." 

You can't help but whine. Allowing your fingers to finally circle your clit. 

The both of you go one like this for a bit. Him fucking the fleshlight and you massaging your clit. But then you need more, more than your hand can give you. So you reach to your bedside table, stretching at an uncomfortable angle to open the drawer and pull out the purple mini wand you kept there.

The vibrations start slow and constant as you press the toy to your clit. It pulls soft, quiet noises from you as you watch your computer screen. Your mind is blank, filled only with the pretty sounds Ed is making, the way his body looks, and the pleasure between your legs.

There are no thoughts. You follow his lead. When his hand speeds up, you kick up the vibrations, when he slows down, you turn the vibrator back to the first level. 

It's a rollercoaster, almost, taking your pleasure for a ride. The stream isn't even done yet when you feel that tight pull in your abdomen. The toy works you up fast. 

So you stop. Taking the toy away and changing positions. On your hands and knees, you hug a pillow to your chest and prop the toy up under you, keeping it standing as you push your clit down onto it. It's not even on and it's making your hips buck in sensitivity.

You turn it back on and immediately feel the slick seeping from your cunt and running down the toy. 

"Oh fuck," you cry.  Your eyes locked on the screen where Ed has also changed positions. 

He's got his own toy lying on the bed and he's laying over it. The way his leg and glute muscles contract as he thrusts into the toy has you memorized. 

He chants, "Baby, baby, baby." Over and over. What you would give to have him chanting your name instead. Like a prearranged falling from his lips, praising you, worshiping you.

The need for him grows and so does the tightness in your core. 

Reaching your hand down you turn the speed up. Your hips buck into the toy and you bury your face in the pillow. You're close.

He’s not far behind. Peering up from your pillow you can see his thrusts are sputtering. Sporadic as he draws close to his end. 

“God dammit, baby. Gonna cum in this perfect mouth of yours. Fuck. Can you swallow it like the good pet you are? Hum? The good pet I know you can be?”

“Yes.” You turn up the vibrator. “Fuck, wanna swallow all of you. Please.” 

The vibrations are becoming too much but you keep the toy pressed into you, hips shaking at the feeling of being overstimulated. 

Without warning, you cum with a guttural cry into your pillow. Body spasming, muscles twitching. You can still hear Ed moaning and the sloppy sounds of his cock fucking the fleshlight. 

With barely any energy you reach down between your heavy body and the bed and turn your toy off. You don’t even bother with your computer, too exhausted and fucked out to exit the stream. You fall asleep to the sounds of your new classmate's self-pleasure. 

…

It’s October now. The semester is halfway over and you’ve still been watching Ed, or Eddie. You learned his actual name in class when your professor called role on him by name the second week. 

Today you are being assigned a partner for the final project. You have your fingers crossed that Eddie won’t be chosen as your partner but as your professor calls out pairs, it seems luck is against you. 

You freeze when your name is called and directly after so is Eddie’s. You groan internally. How the hell are you supposed to do this? You already have trouble concentrating when he sits two seats away, what’s going to happen when he actually interacts with you?

There isn’t much time to think about that as he abruptly moves from his seat to the one directly next to you. 

“Hi.” He says, eyes bright and expectant. “I’m Eddie.” He holds out his hand for you to shake but you just stare at him. He looks at you curiously before waving his hand in front of your face. “Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

You snap out of your stupor and accept his hand, shaking it as you introduce yourself. “Sorry. I was a bit out of it.” You say, trying to play it off as you just staring off into space. 

“No problem.” He smiles. “Uh, do you want to exchange numbers so we can figure out when we can work on this together?” 

“Oh, yeah. Here,” You open your phone and push it to him with the messages app open. “You can text yourself.” 

He does just that, even going as far as putting in his contact name as Eddie with the skull and crossbones emoji beside it. 

“Great. I’ll text you when I’m free. I have work on Mondays and Thursdays, sometimes on Saturdays, but other than that I’m usually free.”

You nearly choke when you realize he’s given you his streaming schedule. “I- uh. Okay. Just text me when you can.”

"Sure thing sweetheart." He grins at you before standing, grabbing his things, and heading out of class along with the rest of the students. 

You sit there for a minute, thinking. God, what are you getting yourself into?

…

You both have finally come up with meeting times that work for both of you. Tuesday and Wednesday after seven. Giving you time to get to the school library after the closing shift at your on-campus job. 

It’s been two weeks of working together on this project and it’s been easier than you had originally thought to concentrate on the task at hand and keep your dirty thoughts at bay. 

Right now, you are both sitting in one of the private study rooms looking at Eddie’s computer as he explains why this particular cord progression would fit with the emotions you are trying to convey in your composition. 

You sigh, “Eddie, as much as I love that sound, I really don’t think it fits with the overall composition of the song. It isn’t as emotionally charged as I’d like it to be.”

“Well show me something similar to what you’re wanting.” He rakes his hand through his hair. It’s been a long night for each of you. It seems that every new section of the song you are creating for the project gives you a new challenge to work through together. 

You pull out your phone and Eddie leans over to watch as you begin to type. There is a particular song you are thinking of that has the weight and emotion you are trying to convey with your own music and as you type the first letter of the song, O, the first suggestion that pops up is onlyfans/DungeonMaster. 

Mortified, you slam your phone down on the table. Eddie looks at you with an eyebrow raised. 

“What was that?” He asks.

“What was what?” You answer. 

“Why did you slam your phone down?”

“Oh, I just forgot the title of the song.”

“Right…” He scratches under his chin and then stretches back in his chair. “Why don’t we call it quits for tonight? It’s getting late and we aren’t going to agree on anything if we’re both tired.”

A yawn suddenly comes up out of nowhere and you then realize how tired you actually are. “That sounds good to me.” You agree with Eddie and begin packing up your things. You don’t want to be with him longer than you need to be right now, even if he seemingly didn’t notice his OF user pop up on your phone screen. 

“Bye Eddie.” You wave to him on your way out the door.

Faintly you hear him call out to you, giving a goodbye of his own. "See ya, sweetheart."

… 

After your little slip, you began avoiding Eddie. At least in person, you still tuned into his streams. You bailed on the next three meetups you had planned, helping only through voice notes and text. Eddie said he understood when you said your boss was forcing you to stay late to deep clean. 

It was Thursday now and when you saw him in class he barely looked your way and you wondered if he had seen what you hoped he had not. 

You tried stopping him once your lecture was over, feeling an anxiousness creeping into your mind. Your conscience had been telling you to come clean. To explain your perversion. Let him know you watched him, that you paid to enjoy seeing him fuck into a toy or his hand. 

You called out his name and reached for his arm. "Eddie."

He turns to you. "Hum?"

You take a deep breath to ground yourself. "I wanted to say sorry for not being able to come help with the project."

"It's okay, you said you had work." He replies, unbothered. 

"No, Eddie, I didn't get held back at work. That was a lie."

He doesn't look all too surprised. 

"I've kinda been avoiding you because- well, because of what I think you might have seen on my phone that day."

Eddie stops you there. "Can this wait until later? I've really got some errands to run before work."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry to keep you Ed." You had meant it as a nickname but as it came pushing past your lips it was too late to take it back. You had never heard anyone call him that outside of his onlyfans. 

You watched as his eyes widened at the name and a spark went off behind them. "I'll see you later sweetheart." The smirk he gives you isn't the usual playful one you'd seen him throw before. No, this was sinister, like he knew.

Your heart fell into your stomach as you watched him walk away, leaving you alone.

Tonight as you logged into the stream, it wasn’t to get off. It was to see if he'd show any signs of knowing you might be lurking about among the thousands of viewers.

When the video loads, Eddie is sitting in his desk chair. He's talking to the chat like he always does. There's something different in the atmosphere around him, mischief if you've placed it correctly. 

He keeps replying to comments until the clock reaches 6:10. It's time for the show to begin. 

"Tonight I have a very special treat for you guys." Eddie starts as he reaches over just off camera to his desk. "I've got the wand out." 

The chat erupts. Eddie doesn't bring his vibrator out often, but when he does, you know it's going to be a good show for every party involved. 

"I would also like to say hello to a special quest in the stream tonight." Eddie’s smirk gets bigger and your heart pounds in your chest. "Hi, sweetheart. Hope you enjoy yourself." 

You feel like you've been shot. There's a ringing in your ears and your breathing has stopped. 

He knows. Fuck. He definitely knows. You've never heard him say that pet name on camera. It's always babe or baby when he refers to the collective whole watching the stream. Eddie has only ever used that name with you.

Eddie starts up the vibrator, tracing it over his covered cock. He hums at the feeling, loud and long. 

You clench your thighs together. You tell yourself you should stop watching but you can't bring yourself to. 

'He knows." You argue with yourself.

'But he wants you to watch. Why else would he say his pet name for you? Why else would he say he hopes you enjoy yourself? He knows and he likes it.'

The devil on your shoulder makes sense again and you curse it. 

So, you watch. Intently, you watch. Your eyes never leave the screen. 

Eddie whimpers once he has his cock out of his pants. The tip is a deep purple/red color, showing how worked up he's gotten already.

He lets his head fall back, resting on his chair as he moves the vibrator down to his balls. He presses it into himself before dragging it up his shaft and to the head. 

You feel a wetness seeping into the cotton of your panties and as his legs widen, yours press together more. 

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck, sweetheart." Eddie moans, mouth open slack and eyes squeezed shut. 

You can't believe he's saying your pet name and making those noises. You wonder what he's thinking about. How you'd look sucking on his cock? Maybe what it would be like to be pounding into you, watching your cunt suck him in and clench around him. 

Eddie grits his teeth when he turns the speed up. One hand is holding the vibrator just at the frenulum while the other is cupping and squeezing his balls. 

Your thoughts are running wild and your hips have started to rock in search of some kind of friction.

He moves his hand from his balls and begins to tug on his shaft. Deep guttural moans fill the air, and the sound of them turns you on even more. 

It's not long before Eddie is bucking his cock into his hand. You can see his muscles straining in his legs as he does. 

"Fuck fuck fuck- ah fuck sweetheart, you've got me so close. Fuck." His voice is pinched. You can see the exhaustion in the furrow of his eyebrows as he pressed the vibrator over his tip, the change in placement making his hips shudder. “God, I’m gonna cum. The thought of you is gonna make me cum, sweetheart.” 

Hearing his breathy, deep, timber of a voice say that the thought of you was going to do him in had you thinking you might just cum too. No touching required, just Eddie and his beautiful noises. 

In a matter of seconds, Eddie is choking on his words as his balls go taut. He lets out a drawn-out grunt and ropes of cum begin to spurt out over his chest, covering him like a painting. He doesn’t even bother to clean himself up before he looks into the camera and says good night, chuckling when he mentions your particular pet name again. Then, the screen goes dark. 

…

Fridays are slow in the used bookshop you work at. Especially after 4:30. No one had been inside in maybe an hour? Your boss left early, leaving you alone to close down at 6. For the past fifteen minutes, you’ve been putting misplaced books back where they belong, sweeping, and tidying up anything else you see. 

Because of the usual slowness, you have your headphones on. The music isn’t loud but it does drown out the sound of the bell chiming as someone enters the building. You are unaware of the person creeping up behind you until you are suddenly turned around and corralled against the bookshelf. 

You let out an alarmed screech only for your mouth to be covered by a big, warm hand. Your headphones fall to the floor beside you as they are accidentally knocked off your head. You hear his voice then, whispering in your ear. 

“Hi, Sweetheart.” 

“Eddie-” You heave, relieved it wasn’t someone coming to kill you in cold blood.

“Did you enjoy my show last night?” He leans back, caressing a strand of hair away from your face. 

You shake your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You deny. Even after you had told yourself you would come clean to him, granted that was before you knew he knew your secret. 

“You don’t know, do you? I think you do why else would my account have popped up on your search suggestions the other day?” 

Keeping your mouth shut, you refuse to answer. 

Eddie takes your chin between his fingers and moves your face to the side as he leans into you. His lips tickle the shell of your ear as he speaks again. “So… Which one of my subs are you? Hum?”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. 

Eddie tuts. “Don’t get all shy on me. Tell me. Now.” His tone is dominating. It’s one thing to hear it over a computer speaker, it's another when you hear it in person. His presence alone had your knees knocking. 

“I-I,” You can't help but stutter. “It’s Princess23.” You shamefully tell him your user, eyes looking anywhere but his.

He sucks in a breath. “Oh, Princess. That was you?”

He forces you to look at him and you nod your head. 

You hate that he’s making you look him in the eye, but you can see what’s swirling around deep within them. Desire, lust, dominance, but nothing mean. Nothing hurtful. 

As you watch him, you catch the minute changes in his expression. His jaw clenches and his eyes darken, a hunger taking over as he stares you down. 

“I can give you a private show if you want, baby.” He leans back in. “Right here,” He nipps at your ear lobe. “Right now.” 

“Eddie, we can’t… We’re at my work.” 

He looks around you, head swiveling to peer down both ends of the aisle. “It’s fine Sweetheart, no one’s here but us, right?”

“Yes, but-”

He cuts you off with a finger over your lips. 

“Then let me show you why the real thing is so much better than what you’ve seen online.” He doesn’t give you time to think before his lips are on yours. 

They are soft, almost pillow-like as they mold against yours. His tongue slithers its way into your mouth, tasting you, he moans when he does. 

To you, he tastes like menthol cigarettes and black coffee with the faintest hint of weed. It’s intoxicating, and addicting. You’ve only had one taste and now you won't be able to function without him.  

His hand cups your cheek and pulls you closer. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tugging at his hair. His body keeps you pinned to the shelves and he spreads your legs by inserting one of his own between them.

With him being so much taller than you, it only takes you barely bending your knees for you to make contact with his thigh. You are thankful when he doesn’t stop you from humping his leg. The friction of you rubbing yourself against him has the seam of your pants pressing against your clit. It’s a wonderful pressure that leaves your mind blank. 

When he pulls away, you follow, not wanting his mouth to leave yours. Eddie chuckles when you give a needy whine. 

"It's okay baby, I'll give you what you want." He coos. "But first, since you wanna get yourself off, you've got to make yourself cum on my leg."

You pout. "But Eddie…"

"Ah ah, don't complain sweet girl, you'll only make it take longer. Now get to work."

You do as he says, rolling your hips with purpose against him. He doesn't help you at all, he only provides support and kissed along your jaw every few seconds as he watches you work. 

It's harder than you thought it would be. The layers of denim dulled the sensations yet added to the tension your clit felt as the fabric rubbed against it. 

"Mmm, fuck." You gasp, fingers gripping onto Eddie’s shoulders. "M'so close. Eddie, I'm so close."

He smiles at you and he gives your body gentle touches. "That's it, Princess. Let go. Being such a good girl for me."

You moan loudly at his praise. 

"That right sweet girl, use me to get yourself off. That's it, keep going."

His words are spurring you on, your hips, although losing their rhythm and steadiness, keep going strong. Then, you feel it. That tautness in your tummy and the ache in your bones. You are so close.

"Please, Eddie. Ah- so close. Need more." Your words are short and your hips move faster. 

"What is it, baby? What do you need?" Eddie asks, willing to give you just a little.

"Kiss me again," you beg. 

He obliges. Taking your face in his hands and practically devouring you. 

The canter of your hips stalls as your body shudders against him. A sticky wetness can now be felt,  uncomfortably, between your legs.

"So good for me." He praises.

You can feel how hard he is, his needy cock prominently pressing into your thigh.

"Wanna feel you. Eddie please, I need to feel you." You're practically begging him to fuck you now.

"Yeah, sweet girl? You need me to stretch that pretty pussy on my dick? Make you feel so good, baby." He trailed his kiss down to your neck, stopping only to suck and nip at the sensitive skin. 

You nod frantically. "Yes, yes Eddie. Need you inside me."

Hands rush to unbutton pants, fingers caress bare skin, breaths hitch. You tug at Eddie's pants impatiently as he pulls your own down. The sudden feeling of cold air hitting the pool of slick between your thighs. 

You are both a whirlwind of arms and clothes and a few books falling from their shelf. Eddie’s fingers make their way to your center, exploring between your folds. 

You throw your head back, cracking it on the shelf above. "Ow," You moan out in pain.

"Careful there, Sweetheart." He gives you another kiss and moves his unoccupied hand to cradle your head.

The pain is instantly forgotten when two of his thick fingers circle your clit before pushing into your entrance.

"Mmmm- god." He feels so good inside you, fingers curling into your walls. The wet slick of him moving fills the stagnant air of the bookstore.

"You're sucking me in, baby. Pussy squeezing me so tight." Eddie rests his forehead on yours, his breath mixing with your own. "Can't wait to feel you around my cock."

Gasping in response, you buck your hips up into his hand. "More-"

It doesn't take much convincing for Eddie to pull his hand from between your legs and position his hard length at your entrance. Slowly he slips inside, meeting no resistance with how wet you are. 

Eddie pushes into you, cock stretching you out farther than you think you've ever been before. His one hand rests on the back of your head while the other pushes your shaking hand out of his way as he goes to press it against your neck.

You grasp his arm, nails scratching his skin as he chokes you. 

"Oh- oh, Eddie. Fuck me." You cry, cunt fluttering around him. 

Your words are music to his ears. His pace begins steadily. In and out at a lazy, leisurely speed. Then he picks it up, hips bucking faster and faster. 

He's giving it all to you. Everything you've dreamed of since you saw him on your Twitter all those months ago.

The head of his cock is repeatedly hitting that one spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. You can’t keep yourself up. The feelings coursing through you have your knees buckling and Eddie does a good job at catching your weight. 

He stops his movements to try and situate you. “Come on, baby, gotta stand up.” 

You shake your head. “I can’t, s’too much.” Your heart is pounding in your chest, if you even tried to stand you would just fall again. “There's a couch.” You point to the back of the store. “It’s in the break room.” 

Eddie grunts as he hoists you up in his arms and follows your directions. 

The couch is old and made of leather. It is cold on your skin as Eddie lays you down and you shiver as he rips your pants and underwear from around your ankles. Never would you have ever imagined being naked from the waist down in your work break room. 

In contrast to the cool leather, Eddie’s hands are searing hot. He grips the back of your knees, picking your legs up and spreading you out. You’re almost folded in half. 

“Jesus fucking christ. You. Are. Beautiful.” He enunciated every word. The complement has you keening and clenching around nothing. “Fuck, look at that pretty cunt. She’s gaping for me.” Eddie smiles, eyes flickering to yours before looking back to your most intimate part. 

You let out a wonton gasp when he spits, a glob of it falling right atop your parted slit. Eddie takes a hand away and grabs his cock. He rubs the tip through your folds, giving your clit a heavy tap tap tap before entering you again and grabbing the back of your knee again. 

Eddie wastes no time in pistoning his hips into yours. The new angle gives him free range of movement to fuck you fast and deep. The skin of his thighs makes a sharp slapping sound when he connects with your ass, it sets the rhythm for the song of your shared moans. 

“Pull your shirt up.” He commands and you do as he says. Lifting your shirt up and over your breasts. Eddie lets out an irritated grunt at the sight of your bra. “That too.” He puffs out and you pull it up as far as it will allow. 

Your breasts bounce as Eddie fucks you mercilessly into the couch. His eyes are shamelessly trained on them. “Fucking hell, Princess. Gimmie our hands.” 

You reach out for him and he grabs your wrists, guiding you to hold your legs back like he had been doing. With the newfound freedom of his hands, he extends them out to play with your tits.  He pinches and tugs at your nipples, making you moan in pleasure as he continues his assault. His thrusts become faster, harder, more desperate. You know he's close and you can't take much more either. 

“Eddie… Ah- Eddie-” You babble out his name. You wiggle under his hold and the harsh prodding of his cock into your cervix. The strings of another orgasm are being pulled tight. 

He growls. “I know baby, I know. Fucking cum for me. Cum on my cock.” 

Tears well up in your eyes and begin to overflow. Your body writhes, back bowing, muscles straining. You’re on the precipice. 

Eddie sees how close you are and moves a hand down between your legs, circling his thumb over your slick-covered clit. 

“Oooh- Oh fuck!” You scream. “Shit shit shit shitshitshitshit…. Ah!” 

“Louder.” He moans. “Want the whole town to hear you sweet girl.” 

“Eddie! Oh, I’m there. I’m fucking there.” You cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you let go. A scream erupts from your throat. Even in your ecstasy, you can feel Eddie’s tempo shift. He’s losing speed. 

“Goddammit. I cumming too.” Eddie whimpers, sinking into you fully. His cum fills you up and you can fill you as it runs down your ass as he pulls out. 

Your body is twitching as he moves you to lay more fully on the couch. He doesn’t follow though. No. He sinks to his knees and before your foggy mind can even comprehend it, he attaches his mouth to your pussy.  

You are pliant under his touch, unable to resist. His tongue explores you and you moan in pleasure. He’s lapping up the mixture of his cum and your slick, humming at the taste the whole time. 

You choke back a sob when his tongue flicks repeatedly over your clit before he begins to suck on the already abused bud. “Eddie, please.” Reaching down you tug on his hair but he doesn’t move. “Ed-” He starts shaking his head, burying himself in your pussy. 

Another orgasm is quickly approaching. Your breathing quickens and you can feel your body trembling as he works you up, sending you higher and higher until you can’t take it anymore. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, and your body spasms in pleasure. He doesn't stop, continuing his ministrations until you finally come down from your high once more.

“Christ. You taste so good.” He says as he crawls up your spent body. Draping himself over you he places kiss after tender kiss all over your face. “Did so good for me. I’m so proud of you.” 

“Yeah?” You whisper. 

“Mhum. So proud.” He grins, the light of the room catching in the wetness covering him from nose to chin. 

Eddie cuddles into you more and your eyes close. He’s exhausted you. You both lay there in silence, content in each other's presence. Eddie eventually falls asleep, his breathing slow and steady. You don’t have the heart or the energy to wake him. You stay awake, just barely, still in awe of what happened. 

It feels like hours have gone by when you finally do shake Eddie, calling out to him softly. He stirs, grumbling as he looks up at you. 

“Eds, baby, I need to lock up.” 

He only rests his head back down between your breasts. You shake him again. 

“Eddie.” You say it a bit more sternly. “Get up and I’ll let you take me back to yours.” 

That gets his attention and he’s up and dressing himself in an instant. You on the other hand are slower, feeling the prominent ache between your legs. He has to help you pull your panties and jeans back on. 

He has to help you close the store as well, your legs weak and not trusted to hold up your body weight without crumbling to the ground. 

Never had you thought this was how this would end. Sitting in the passenger seat of your favorite camboy's car as he drives you to his apartment, grinning like the Cheshire cat as you both think of all the fun things you’ll get up to. Round two was bound to be wilder than the first. 

[darnell-la]

FRIENDS & CUFFS

summary: y/n has only been curious about Eddie’s handcuffs after they began dating. she wondered why he never used them on her, and at first, long told her she didn’t know anything about that life. she soon found out that Eddie had a lot to teach her.

warnings: quick friends to lovers storyline, making out, fem receiving oral from male, reader weakens after orgasm, slight innocent reader, drug dealer Eddie (not really mentioned), rough sex, bondage (Eddie’s handcuffs/chains), missionary, doggy, no protection, crying, whining, a lot of male noises, pet names, chocking, etc.

note: we haven’t done an Eddie Munson fan fiction in a while. we still love him, so, there will be more. more stranger things in general. you see what I did there? — nevermind.

———

Steve nearly asked Eddie every day since he graduated, when he was going to make a move on y/n. He hated watching the two drink and get close, yet never make a move.

When people would ask them if they were together, or assume, anyone could tell they the nervousness entered the room.

Not too long ago, y/n and Eddie finally made a move. It seemed so perfect how they both leaned in to feel each other’s lips.

“I think we should stop — You’re drunk, and it’s getting late,” Eddie whispered after y/n stopped fake fighting on top of him. “What if I won’t want to sleep just yet?” Y/n asked, a bit shy, but the alcohol in her body, helped her gain confidence.

“You’re drinks, princess, and I’m not. I don’t want you to regret this, and mess our friendship up,” Eddie said, really wanting to taste her, but she was afraid of showing what he’s been wanting to do with her.

“A kiss could never ruin our friendship, Eddie,” y/n said, slightly sounding desperate as her eyes could barely stay open. “Wanna do more than just kiss you, y/n,” Eddie admitted.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at what her best friend said. She thought she was the only one who wanted to experiment with him. She felt nasty, but now, she felt loose.

The two both crashed on each other’s lips, making g out rough but passionate. None of them have kissed like this before. They would’ve never mixed their saliva like this with anyone, but because it’s them, they wanted to do much more.

The night ended with y/n halfway passed out, and Eddie’s face resting on y/n’s thigh, dripping juice from y/n’s throbbing heat. “So good for me — I wanna get used to this,”

Now, the two are dating, happier than ever, but y/n has been curious lately. She didn’t pay much attention when they were just friends, but now that they’re dating, she thought about Eddie’s handcuffs.

Most partners would be jealous, but y/n? She was curious. She thought to herself plenty of times how he would use them on her, and why he hadn’t done it yet. They’ve only been sexual for a short time, but if he were kinky like that, why wouldn’t he mention it?

“You good, sweetheart?” Eddie asked after turning to his girlfriend who seemed to be daydreaming. “Yeah, I was just thinking,” y/n said, not knowing if she should bring this up as a conversation so soon her their relationship.

“What is it? What were you thinking about?” The metalhead asked as he leaned back on his bed, taking his eyes off the weed he was pre-rolling for his rich customers who couldn’t do it on their own.

“So, uh — I noticed the handcuffs, and I was curious,” y/n said as she stared at the cuffs that were basically chains, dangling from a hook in his wall. She knew that had to be for something sexual.

“Hey, y/n, look — I swear on my uncle, I’ve never used them in anyone, and never planned to. I just liked the thought of them near me. I’ve even thought about you in them,” Eddie spoke quietly, a bit embarrassed by his truth.

“Oh, wait, I wasn’t jealous or anything. I just was curious on why you didn’t use them on me yet,” y/n said, making Eddie's eyes widen. For the longest, he had thought y/n was innocent, and she was. She was just open-minded when it came to her boyfriend.

“You’re not ready for that, princess,” Eddie chuckled lightly. “Why not?” Y/n asked, a bit offended as she crossed her arms. “Being restrained means you can’t do anything. I don’t think that it’s a good idea to put you in something like that, knowing you’d wanna get out,”

“What do you mean, want to get out? I can take it,” y/n said, only making the man laugh. “You can’t even take me slow in doggy. What makes you think you can take me deep up front with your pretty hands cuffed?”

Eddie shifted in the bed to cup y/n’s chin, slightly teasing her because they both knew she wasn’t a taker. Especially with his length.

“I-I can take it — It’s not even that bad,” y/n said, making Eddie throw himself back onto his bed with a loud laugh, knowing his uncle wasn’t home to tell him to shut the hell up.

“What!? You’re mean as fuck, you know?” Y/n said as she kept her arms crossed. “Oh, really, baby? I’m sorry, it’s just — You’re a comedian,” Eddie kept laughing, only making y/n roll her eyes.

“C’mon, I’m just pullin’ your tit, baby,” Eddie leaned up to hug y/n, but she moved away. “Babe, don’t start this. I was just kidding,” Eddie tried hugging y/n again, but this time she pushed him away. Of course, not too hard. She was just being dramatic.

“And, that’s why we can’t do what you wanna do. You can’t even handle being picked on a little bit,” Eddie said as he pushed at y/n’s shoulder lightly, slightly feeling bad for what he did.

“Whatever, I’ll be fine,” y/n said, making y/n sigh as he rolled his eyes. “Fine — We can use em, but ion wanna hear none of that cryin', okay?” Eddie jumped off of the bed to get his handcuffs that had dust all over them.

“Really?” Y/n asked, a bit excited, but knowing she wouldn’t be too excited soon. “Ah huh, but only one rule,” Eddie said with a smirk as he untangled the chains. “Yeah?” Y/n innocently asked, not knowing how quick of a turn this would take.

“The only thing stopping me, is our safe word,” before y/n could agree with a smile, Eddie lunged at her, grabbing her quest roughly to cuff them as quick as possible.

“Hey,” y/n said with an eye roll, not knowing he’d get in the mood this fast. “Not a word from you, princess. Let’s see how good you think you can take it,” Eddie said as he placed the chains where they needed to be.

Seeing y/n in this sight, made him harder than he thought he could get. She was always beautiful, but seeing her innocent body slightly retrained, knowing she was actually ready for what was coming, made him want to burst then and there.

“Always thought about tying you up at school. I was a little perv-nerd when it came to you, princess. You always looked and smelled so good — Had to keep myself from throwing you in my van with your hands and legs tied,”

Eddie was in an emotion he couldn’t control. He was either not sure about putting his pretty girl through this, or he was getting too dark to the point he would black out and not remember anything he’d do to her tonight.

“Pretties thighs — Pretties body — Pretties fucking face,” Eddie slightly growled as he gripped y/n’s face. The younger girl whined with huge eyes, feeling her heat get wet.

“I know, baby — Hearts probably rising. Maybe a hint of fear, knowing you can’t get loose — Don’t worry. You know, I’ll take good care of you,”

Eddie quickly began tugging on y/n’s clothes until parts of her showed more than before. She had already had her night dress in, so exposing her bra-covered breast was easy.

“You sure you want this y/n because, fuck — I won’t be able to stop myself,” Eddie warned as he climbed on top of y/n, pulling her dress up as she slightly moved at his cold hands grazing her skin.

“U-Use me — Please,” y/n stuttered, not knowing if she should’ve said it. “What’s the safe word?” Eddie asked in a stern tone. “Red,” y/n said, feeling her heart raise. This was actually happening, and she only had to question him once.

“Good girl,” Eddie grunted as he reached into his jeans to pull himself out. “And, that’s the only thing I wanna hear from you tonight,” Eddie said as he pulled y/n’s panties to the side.

“I-I’ll try,” y/n spoke, making Eddie shake his head with a chuckle. “You’re always doing a terrible job. Just means I’ll have to start off rough,” before anything, Eddie doubly pushed through y/n’s walls, causing her to cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Yeah? You feel that? Feel how deep I am inside of you? I told you doggy would be the only position you could truly handle — This is next level,” Eddie couldn’t stop but grin down at the struggles woman.

“S-So much,” y/n whined low, only making Eddie shush her. “Nah uh, what did I say? Didn’t I say to keep that pretty mouth closed? Hm? — You’re the one who wanted this, so accept the journey,”

Eddie grabbed both sides of y/n’s waist before pushing down onto the mattress. Y/n knew he was positioning himself to fuck her rough. He’s never gone too rough, but she asked for it tonight.

“Hush it up, princess — You wanted it,” Eddie continued saying as he pounded down into y/n, going the deepest he could get at the start of his session. After being handcuffed, there would be no room for taking it slow.

“E-Eddie,” y/n cried out as she pulled one of her restraints. At times, she’d forget that she wouldn’t be able to get out. “Wanna break free? Keep trying, princess — Makes this so much hotter,” Eddie growled with a smile, looking down at the way y/n pulled on the chains.

“This is the tightest you’ve ever been — The way you’re soaking around me, only makes me closer,” Eddie felt himself twitch. He didn’t want to cum this quick, but it didn’t matter. He’s always been able to keep going.

“Eddie- Eddie, you — The condoms. You forgot the condoms,” y/n took forever to say what she was trying to say. “Oh, really? Guess that’s your luck, hm?” Eddie leaned in front of y/n’s face.

Deep down, Eddie felt bad for slipping into her without protection. He had completely forgotten, but he didn’t want to get out of character. He had to somehow make sure y/n was 100% with what was going on.

“Tell me you want me to stop. Tell me. Tell me!” Eddie slightly yelled as he snapped his hips, wanting to keep his work going. He could feel the way she fluttered around him. She was so close.

“Too much, Eds — I’m gonna cum,” y/n made the mistake of telling him how close she was. “And, you want me to stop? When you’re so close? C’mon,” Eddie leaned into y/n’s ear so she could hear his groans better.

The room was filled with wet slaps, whining, growling, and a bunch is cuss words from Eddie. He couldn’t keep himself together. This situation was too much for him. He was going to explode.

“E-Eddie, slow down — Please,” y/n tried begging the man, but he wouldn’t listen. Why would he? She hadn’t used the safe word yet. “Want me to slow down?” Eddie asked as he leaned up.

“Yes, yes,” y/n huffed, surprised he actually slowed down. She had thought he got soft, but little did she know, he was just getting a short break. “Want me to be nicer? Take it easy on you?” He asked as he softly placed his hands around her neck.

“Please-“ y/n was cut off by the grip of his hands. “Then you asked the wrong one to chain you up, sweetheart,” Eddie spat before he began slamming into her, making the young lady cry out instantly.

“E-Eds! C-Can’t anymore — I can’t!” Y/n kicked and arched her back, trying to control herself, but her cunt continued to squeeze around Eddie, only assuring him that he was doing exactly what she wanted. Using her.

“That’s it — Keep struggling — You’re going nowhere, and this isn’t even the beginning — I have so many loads I’ve been wanting to empty into you,” Eddie tightened his grip a bit more to hear her struggle for air.

For a second, Eddie thought he might have been going too far tonight. Quickly handcuffing her, saying mean things, pinning her down, and fucking get rougher than he’s ever done.

The only thing that helped him was her words. She never once came close to the word red. She would’ve said it by now, and she would never come to him later and say she was uncomfortable. Y/n wasn’t like that.

That’s how Eddie knew y/n probably enjoyed this more than him. She loved faking that she needed him to stop. He even saw a small pour from her when he slowed down a few minutes ago.

“C-Cumming — Cunming,” y/n’s body stiffened before she shook. “That’s it- That’s it — Fucking take it,” the older man growled as he pounded her, wanting her juice to splash anywhere it could.

“Ian stoppin’ either, baby — Told you to keep that fucking mouth shut, didn’t I?” Eddie asked, but y/n didn’t answer. Her eyes were landing everywhere but on him. She felt out of it already.

“Didn’t I!?” The man shouted as he shook y/n by her neck to catch her attention. “S-Sorry,” tears streamed from her eyes, upset at herself for not taking it like she swore she could.

Right as Eddie went to assure her that she was fine, she spoke, shocking him.

“I-I’ll be good, I promise. Please cum in me. D-Don’t pull out and punish me,” she cried. “I’ll do anything, Eds, just- Please, use me,”

“Jesus’s H. Christ,” Eddie huffed as he pulled out. He quickly turned his girlfriend around, knowing the chains were long enough for her to be comfortable. He took no time to push back in her, roughly, with a warning.

Y/n wanted to speak out loud to thank him, he she kept quiet. She wanted to be good like she promised.

“You’re just a slut, y/n — A dirty fucking slut, and I knew it from how you dressed at parties — You always got drunk before you sat on my lap, facing me- Dragging that pretty pussy across my clothes cock — Swore you even stained my jeans, once,”

Y/n whined, happy that he noticed his much she wanted him before they got together. Yeah, a bit of embarrassment was felt, but the thought of being caught was what made her close to another orgasm.

“You’re in for a ride with me, princess. Especially after I coat these walls,”

[pedgito]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐘 | Emperor Geta x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

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—naive 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?”

[asvtrials]

𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒

Emperor Geta x fem!reader, minors dni!

masterlist

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.

[keeryhours]

do you wanna come over? - eddie munson

Eddie Munson x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

You’re one of the most beautiful and popular girls in Hawkins, and you’ve set your sights on the Freak, Eddie Munson. Little do you know, he’s a virgin - and also pretty in love with you.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), protected p in v, unprotected p in v, oral (m and f receiving), cum eating sort of, restraints, virgin!eddie, perv!eddie, drug use, getting walked in on

Word Count: 9.7k

A/N:

This is set up for a part 2, so let me know if you’d like to see that soon! Thank you @punkrockmlchael for my banner and for reading, and thank you @the-witty-pen-name , @fizzing-imagines , @losingmygrasponreality, @lesservillain!

Eddie Munson was your weed dealer and nothing more.

Well, occasionally shrooms. Or Special K. Basically, he was your dealer with no strings attached.

You weren’t even sure if you liked the guy. You didn’t know him. He was very…vocal from what you saw of him in the cafeteria, but he always came along with his small group of nerdy friends. You never saw him with a girl. Not once.

There was no way Eddie Munson was a virgin, right? The dude had done his senior year 3 times now, he was like 20 years old. You figured the girls at school probably just weren’t his taste anymore.

Why Eddie was on your mind so much lately was honestly beyond you. You had never thought of him much before, unless you needed some drugs for the weekend. But now it was like he was always on your mind. You even brought it up to your best friend, Chrissy, after practice.

“There’s just no way he’s a virgin, right?” You asked her as you moved into a split, feeling the muscles in your thighs stretching.

Chrissy giggled as she did the same. “Why are you so interested in Eddie Munson’s sex life all of a sudden?”

“I’m not,” you said quickly. “It just…doesn’t make sense. Have you ever seen him with a girl?”

“Of course not,” Chrissy said. “But who knows what he gets up to outside of school.”

Her words stuck with you. Because you wanted to know what Eddie got up to outside of school.

You found yourself fantasizing about it, dreaming about it. When Eddie first started making his appearances in your dreams, it shocked you. You had never been attracted to him until that night. You dreamt of him shirtless, tattoos exposed on his lithe body. He rolled a joint with his dexterous fingers and lit it, taking a long drag before handing it to you.

“Your turn, princess,” he’d said in a lower, much more suave voice than you’d ever actually heard from him. You grabbed for the joint but he held it out of your reach, bringing it back to his own lips and breathing deeply before leaning in and breathing the smoke out into your mouth. You had moaned against his lips, feeling his smirk against your own mouth.

He looked like a sex god. Sometimes he would grab his guitar and play you a song. Sometimes he would undress you and eat your pussy all night, other times he would make you worship his cock until he was satisfied and cumming all over your face. You especially liked it when he held you down and fucked you like your body begged to be fucked.

Then you’d wake up in a cold sweat, clit throbbing between your legs in a way that had you desperate to go back to sleep and let him finish you off. You’d have to face him at school again, just the usual nerdy guy you remembered.

You figured you had to make a move.

You approached him during lunch, short little green and yellow cheer skirt swaying as you crossed the room towards him. You caught his attention about halfway across the room and he did a double take, wide eyes landing on you as his friends turned to see what had distracted him.

“Hey, Eddie,” you greeted, a small smile on your lips.

“Uh, h-hey,” he said, smoothing a hand through his wild hair. It didn’t do much to tame the curls. “What’s up?”

“I was hoping maybe we could meet up after school?” You asked, your voice obviously flirtatious. One of his friends - Gareth? - raised his eyebrows at him, looking between the two of you with a barely contained smirk.

“Oh! Yeah, for sure,” he said. “The usual? In the woods behind the school?”

“Sounds good,” you agreed. “See you later…Eddie.”

You made a point to sway your hips as you walked away, and you could feel Eddie’s and his friends’ eyes on you. Your ass, specifically. You knew what you had been blessed with, and you weren’t afraid to use it.

That day after school, you snuck off and headed down the familiar path through the wooded area. The leaves crunched beneath your white sneakers as you walked, the October chill making you pull your sweater tighter around your body. No one was at the meetup spot when you arrived, so you sat on top of the table, legs crossed as you waited.

It wasn’t long before the crunching of leaves gave away another presence. Eddie approached the table, eyes locked on your form. God, those legs in that little skirt. He thought about what it might be like to spread them, to breathe in your scent and bury his face between your thighs. He had frequent fantasies of stealing a pair of your panties during practice and bringing them home, bringing them up to his face and breathing deeply, wrapping them around his cock as he fisted it, spilling his cum all over the pretty material. He had no idea what your panties actually looked like, but surely they were as perfect as you.

He carried his metal lunchbox, stocked with weed. His gait was slow as he got closer to you, taking his sweet time to drink in your appearance until he’d had his fill. When he reached the table, he sat the lunch pail down on the wood with a bang.

“What can I get you today, m’lady?” He asked, a playful smile on his face as he performed an exaggerated bow. “A half for 20, perhaps?”

“I’ll take a half,” you said. “And..do you have any more of that Special K?

Eddie slowly looked up at you with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, back at the house. I’ll have to get it. I could bring it tomorrow.”

You shifted from your position, crossing the other leg, and Eddie just about combusted on the spot as he caught the slightest glimpse of your panties. Pink and lacy, exactly what he pictured you’d wear. It completely threw him off.

“Hello? Eddie?”

Your voice snapped Eddie back to reality. “Shit, sorry. What?”

“I said you could bring it tomorrow.” You smiled. “Or I could ride with you to get it then. I just can’t tonight because of practice…”

Eddie swallowed. You really wanted to ride with him back to his place? Alone? “Uh, okay, sure.”

You debated making your next move, wondering if it would be too far, but you went for it anyway. “So, Eddie…I was just wondering. Do you ever take any payment that’s not…money?”

Eddie furrowed his brows. “Like what? Sometimes my car guy does work for me in exchange for weed, but…” The look on your face told him that’s not what you’d been talking about. “Oh, jesus, no. You don’t have to do that. If you need me to spot you, I can-“

“But what if I want to?”

Eddie just stared at you. “You want to…?”

“Oh my god, Eddie.” You spread your legs, reaching for his waist and pulling him into you. Your hand dragged across his cock over his jeans, feeling him already hard and even bigger than you’d imagined. “Why don’t you just let me make you feel good?”

Eddie’s knees felt weak, his heart thundering in his chest as you pulled him close to you. This couldn’t be real, he had to be dreaming. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d had this exact dream before. His hands rested on your thighs to hold himself upright - god, your soft, bare thighs… He started to speak, stopping to clear his throat. “You really don’t have to do this-“

You squeezed his cock through the material, making him moan out loudly. “Does this show you how badly I want to do this?”

His voice cracked when he spoke. “I- yeah, I think I get the idea.” He looked around, like he was expecting someone to jump out from behind a tree and literally catch him with his pants down. “You’re- you’re fucking with me, right? This is all just a big joke?”

“Eddie, I would never do that,” you said earnestly. Your brows furrowed as you looked up at him. “Have you really never done this before?”

“I-“ Eddie backed up, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “No, I haven’t, okay? I’m not like that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with-“

“No, I know,” he said quickly. “I just…I haven’t.”

“Why not?” you asked again. “Are you into girls? Because it’s okay if you’re not-“

“Yes, I’m into girls!” Eddie rubbed a hand over his face, like he was frustrated. “I haven’t…done things like that before.”

“You haven’t done things like this, or you haven’t done things at all?”

Eddie was quiet. Then, finally- “At all.”

You reached for him, your hand grazing his. He startled at the touch, the electricity that shot through his body at the smallest feeling. “I don’t care if you’re a virgin, Eddie. I just want to make you feel good.”

He looked back at you, letting you pull him close again. “Why?”

“I’ve been…thinking about you,” you admitted.

“Thinking about me?”

“Stop being so coy,” you teased him. “Do you not know how hot you are?”

Eddie shook his head. “No one thinks that.”

“I do.” You said it easily, quickly. “I’ve been thinking about you nonstop. Thinking about all the things I want to do to you…all the things I want you to do to me…”

“Yeah?” He said, his voice low and breathless. “Like what?”

“Just thinkin’ about you, and what those long fingers can do,” you said, fingers trailing along his own. “About your mouth, your tongue.” You ran your hands down his chest. “About how big your cock is, how you’d use it…”

Eddie’s breath hitched in his throat. He could barely breathe when you talked like that. “You…you think those things about me?”

“Of course I do.” You brought his fingers up to your lips, gently pressing them there as you smirked up at him. Your tongue darted out and licked his fingertips and he groaned just under his breath. “I think about you all the time.”

“Why have you never, uh,” he cleared his throat again. “Never said anything before?”

You shrugged, continuing to tease the older boy. “Guess I just got the nerve up.”

Eddie scoffed. “You’re like the hottest girl in school. Why would you ever be afraid to ask someone out? Especially me?”

“You think I’m the hottest girl in school?” You smirked, placing his finger in your mouth and sucking on it. His knees buckled, his cock impossibly hard in his jeans at this point.

Your hands roamed down his chest until you reached his belt buckle. You looked up at him for permission, his heavy lidded gaze glued to yours. He nodded once, and you undid the belt, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the zipper down painstakingly slowly.

Eddie whimpered as you freed his cock, the massive, thick length catching you by surprise. Eddie reached for the table to hold himself up as you wrapped your fist around it, slowly stroking him.

“H-oh,” he breathed out, hips jerking forward into your touch. His tip leaked precum already, the head a deep red and cock achingly hard. He twitched in your hold, telling you he wanted, needed more.

“Why don’t you lean against the table?” You offered, sliding off and leaving the room for him to sit.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” he said, moving to take your spot. He leaned against the wood, his long legs stretching to the ground. You sunk to your knees in the dirt in front of him, stroking him as you stuck your tongue out to lick his tip. He groaned again, knuckles turning white where they gripped the edge of the table.

You wrapped your plush lips around his cock and began taking him deeper down your throat. He cried out at the feeling, one of his hands moving to hold onto the back of your head.

“Oh, shit,” he moaned, head tilting back but not wanting to miss any part of what you were doing. “Fuck. Yeah, that’s…that feels nice…”

You swirled your tongue around the vein on the underside of his cock, paying extra attention to the head when you’d come up. He was a moaning, writhing mess above you as he thrusted his hips into your mouth, and you were pretty sure they would hear him up at the school if he kept this up.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” he whined, his chest heaving. “Shit, that’s so good.”

You brought a hand up to stroke the seam of his balls, and his stomach muscles clenched, his cock twitching in your mouth. You massaged them in your hand, and Eddie fell apart above you, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna- gonna c-um, shit shit shit-“

That was all the warning you got before Eddie was shooting ropes of his cum into your mouth, down your throat, as he moaned loudly. It surprised you a little and you gagged at first, but swallowed every drop he gave you. You pulled off of him with a pop and he watched the spit trail connecting your lips to his cock.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed when you stood, dirt tracks on your neat white cheerleading socks and your bare knees. He awkwardly tucked himself back away as you brushed the dirt off your skin. “Um…thank you?”

You giggled. “No problem…Did you like it?”

“Did I-“ he huffed a laugh. “I mean, you made my dreams come true, baby. That was pretty fuckin’ awesome.”

“Yeah? Your dreams came true?” You teased as you leaned forward, rubbing his thighs over his jeans. His eyes shamelessly lingered on your body.

“Fuck yeah,” he breathed.

“I liked it, too,” you hummed. “Made me sooo wet.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Just from sucking me off?”

“Yeah,” you giggled. “It was hot.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What, wanna see?” Eddie just watched you so you stood, turning around and bending over while lifting your tiny skirt over your ass. The small wet spot on your panties was visible from behind you, confirmed by the low groan Eddie let out.

“Christ,” he muttered.

“I feel bad I didn’t get to make you feel good,” Eddie said when you stood and returned to the table, sliding onto it next to him.

“Next time,” you promised him.

“There’s gonna be a next time?” He raised his eyebrows, like he expected this to be a one and done thing between you.

“Well, yeah,” you gently nudged his shoulder. “I don’t really just suck dick in the forest and move on with my life.”

Eddie laughed lightly. “That’s good for me then, I guess.” He snapped his fingers as a memory came back to him. “Oh! You’re coming to my place tomorrow? For the K?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Why, you got something planned?”

He smirked but just shrugged. “Nah. Nothing planned.”

“I’ll take the half, though.”

“Oh, yeah.” He reached into his pail and pulled the baggie out. “I’d feel bad charging you for this now, but I also feel bad not charging you for it.”

You laughed - “I mean, I won’t complain if you don’t want to charge me this time.”

“Then it’s on the house,” he smiled at you. “Thanks again, by the way.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you chuckled. “I wanted to. Believe me.” You stood from the table, shoving the baggie of weed into your bag. “I’ve got to get going…practice.”

“Oh, yeah.” Eddie seemed bummed to see you go, like he wanted to ask you to stay longer or tag along to watch you at practice. “You got extra, uh…socks?”

You looked down, sheepish grin on your face at the sight of the dirt. “Yeah. I do.” You turned as you began walking back to the school. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ed!”

“Bye!” He called after you, feeling like a total idiot.

Back in the school, you shed your bag in your practice locker and changed into a clean pair of cheer socks. By the time you joined Chrissy in the gym, she was giving you a knowing smirk.

“And where were you?” She asked innocently. She definitely clocked the remaining dirt on your knees.

“Just…doing some shopping.”

“With Eddie?”

You blushed. “Maybe.”

“Oh my god,” she giggled. “…Was he a virgin?”

You gave her a look. “Not for long.”

Chrissy practically squealed with laughter, falling over backwards. As the coach came over and started practice, you focused, getting your mind centered on practice and not a certain big-dicked virgin metalhead. But as you performed your tricks, tumbling down the mat and flying as your teammates tossed you into the air, your mind was locked on big brown eyes only.

The next day, you had plans to meet Eddie after practice and go to his place. You headed into the gym in your uniform with your bag over your shoulder, ready to focus on your stunts, but you nearly tripped over your own feet when you saw Eddie sitting in the bleachers.

No one watched cheerleading practice besides a couple of the girls’ boyfriends, so it was a shock to see him there. And you knew he was there for you. He gave you a small wave as your eyes met his, and you couldn’t help laughing.

You went on with practice, performing your back handsprings and tosses as a flyer. Eddie watched the entire time, his attention fully on you. His eyes followed you everywhere you went, amazed by the stunts you were able to pull off. Every now and then he caught the slightest glimpse of your panties beneath your skirt, and that was enough for him.

After practice, you lingered until all your teammates were gone. Eddie watched you curiously, wondering what you were up to. Finally when the last of your cheer teammates had left, you nodded towards the locker room, and Eddie’s eyes widened, but he jumped up to follow you anyway.

Eddie trailed after you into the locker room, watching the sway of your hips and ass as you walked. It was deserted, all of your fellow cheerleaders having already showered and left. You stripped out of your uniform right in front of Eddie, pulling your top off and leaving yourself bare chested. Eddie’s eyes practically bugged out of his head, your bare tits on full display for his eyes. You took off your skirt and panties next, throwing them on the bench.

“Let me go take a shower, then we can go.”

Eddie watched as you turned and left towards the shower. His gaze dropped to the pile of clothes on the bench - particularly the pink panties beneath your skirt. He thought about it - really thought about it, because he’s not that much of a creep - but he snatched them, stuffing them into his jeans pocket.

A few minutes later you came back wrapped in a towel with one wrapped around your hair as well. He watched you, amazed, as you grabbed some clean clothes from your locker. You dropped the towel right in front of him and his eyes took in every inch of your body as you pulled on your underwear then a pair of jeans and a shirt.

“Ready to go?” You asked. Eddie had to shake himself out of his lustful stupor to answer your question.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

You followed him out to the parking lot, duffel bag over your shoulder. He led you to his van, opening the passenger door with a bow. “Ladies first.”

You climbed in with a giggle, buckling your seatbelt as Eddie shut the door for you. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the van. You watched out the window and listened to Eddie’s heavy music as he drove to his trailer in Forest Hills.

“Welcome to my castle,” he said as he opened the front door of the trailer for you. You gave him a smile as you walked in, seeing the living room decorated with baseball caps, the kitchen littered with trash and dirty dishes. “Sorry, the maid took the week off,” Eddie said as he quickly cleaned up as much as he could. You didn’t mind.

“You can come back, if you want,” he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the bedroom at the end of the hall. “It’s a mess, but…”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” you assured him.

You followed him into his room, taking a seat on his bed. He went searching through his stuff, finally surfacing with a baggie of powder clutched between his fingers. “Special K. Peaceful bliss, just moments away.”

You took it from him, passing him the money. You opened the baggie and collected some on your finger, bringing it to your nose to snort the powder. You held some out to Eddie, who snorted it off your finger as well.

A comfortable peace washed over your body quickly. You were feeling good as you laid back on the bed, the euphoria washing over you. Eddie laid on the bed next to you.

“This is some good shit,” you laughed. Eddie laughed, too, turning to you.

“You’re so hot, you know that?” He said, voice lowering as he looked over your body in his bed. “You are so fucking hot.”

You giggled. “You’re hot, too.”

“That’s not true,” he said, suddenly shy. “No one thinks that.”

“I do,” you said, your hand resting on the side of his face. “I think you’re so hot. And kind, and handsome, and funny and interesting.”

Eddie leaned closer to you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, and he was so close now his nose was brushing yours.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he told you as his lips moved closer and closer to yours. “My little slut. You liked sucking my cock out in the woods behind the school, didn’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed against him, his lips now grazing yours, pressing together in a needy kiss. “Loved sucking your cock. So fucking big, so sexy.”

Eddie moaned as he kissed you, his hand roaming your body, up your shirt and over your breasts. “Can I taste you, princess?”

“Hmm?” You hummed the question, mind hazy from his kisses.

“Can I taste you?” He asked again, lips moving down to nip at your neck. “Wanna taste that pussy, princess. I know it’s so good, so fucking sweet and wet. Please let me have a taste.”

“Okay,” you agreed as his kisses trailed lower, his lips moving down over your breasts and stomach, to your thighs. He settled himself between your legs, kissing all over your thighs and over your core through your light purple panties. He could see the wet spot on them, it made his mouth water with his desire to taste you.

He slid your panties down your legs, your pussy finally revealed to him. It was everything he imagined, so fucking hot, and bare all for him. He dove in, tongue sliding through your folds to taste you. You moaned, hand gripping into his wild hair as he devoured you.

Eddie didn’t exactly know what he was doing, but he was eager and excited and that made it even better. He teased your clit with his tongue, wrapping his lips around it and sucking lightly. Then he moved lower, tongue teasing your hole as his nose brushed against your clit.

You moaned, hips bucking up against Eddie’s mouth. “Feels so good,” you moaned, hands trailing over your nipples as Eddie ate your pussy like a man starved.

He started grinding his hips against the bed as he ate you, searching for friction against his hard cock. He rutted frantically against the bed, tongue buried in you as his cock throbbed in his pants, moaning into you as he neared release himself. All from the thought of what he was doing to you, the reality of having his face buried in your cunt, his rock hard dick rubbing against the comforter.

“Eddie, I’m g’na cum,” you moaned desperately as Eddie worked his tongue over your core even more, fingers pulling at his brown locks.

“Cum for me baby, please,” he begged, fully losing himself between your legs, tongue working against your pussy somehow expertly as your release neared.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Eddie! Oh god, Eddie!” You cried out as you came, hips bucking against his mouth as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue. He kept thrusting against the bed, but hearing you moan his name as you pulled his hair and grinded against his mouth set him off and then he was moaning, cumming in his jeans as you came down beneath his tongue.

He let you ride out your orgasm and then he pulled back, cheeks bright red and a wet spot on his jeans from where he came.

“Did you…?” You asked, looking down at his lap.

“Uh…yeah,” he said shyly, knowing there was no getting out of this with a lie.

You giggled, but there was no judgement behind it. “That’s pretty hot, honestly,”

“It is?” He asked, still blushing furiously. “I didn’t mean to, I just-“

“Couldn’t help yourself?” You trailed a finger down his shoulder, over his chest. He shuddered.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I just…can’t help myself when I’m around you.”

It was flattering. You loved that he was so weak for you. It made you feel powerful. “You’re so sexy, Eddie.”

He trembled beneath your touch.

That night, when Eddie was alone, he pulled your panties from his pocket. He wasn’t sure if you hadn’t noticed him take them, or if you just hadn’t cared. But he had them, and now he was bringing them up to his nose, breathing in your scent with a groan. He unbuttoned his pants and took his cock out, wrapping the panties around his shaft.

He thought of you. He thought about you wearing these panties during cheerleading practice, the way you’d do your jumps and spread your legs for anyone to see. The way you looked him in the eye just before you did your splits, like you wanted him watching specifically.

He began stroking his cock with the panties wrapped around his length, thinking of you. He thought about eating your pussy, the way you had come undone beneath his tongue. The way you had tasted.

He moaned your name, imagining you were in the room with him now. Imagining you were here riding his cock, tits bouncing as you bounced on him, taking every inch of his dick. Eddie stroked his cock faster, his release approaching faster and faster.

He came to the thought of his cock disappearing into your tight little pussy, the thought of finally fucking you. The way you’d be so desperate for it, legs spread wide as he sunk into your cunt, tits bouncing when he snapped his hips into you. It was enough to send ropes of cum shooting over his fist and all over the panties and his thighs and stomach.

Eddie was down bad for you.

It was a couple of days later when you approached Eddie at school again. His face lit up when he saw you, frantically making room at the lunch table and pushing Gareth out of the way.

“What the fuck?” Gareth asked as Eddie shoved him to the side, but his eyes went wide in understanding when he saw you approaching.

“Hey, Eds,” you greeted him, hand sliding around his shoulders in a way that gave him goosebumps. He looked up at you adoringly, big brown eyes full of something like love.

“Hey,” he greeted you back. “What’s up?”

You leaned over so you were closer to him, leaning over the table with your cleavage in your uniform top right in front of his face. “Do you have any shrooms?”

“S-shrooms?” Eddie asked like he’d never heard the word, too distracted by what was in front of him. “Oh, yeah. I do. At the house.”

“Could I ride with you after school to get them…?”

Eddie swallowed, completely lost in a trance, forgetting about his friends at the table watching this whole interaction. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Cool,” you smiled. “I’ll see you after school then?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie’s gaze was locked on you as you walked away, that little cheer skirt so short he could just barely catch a glimpse of-

“Munson!”

Eddie snapped out of his you trance to rejoin reality and his friends trying to catch his attention. “What?”

“What the hell is that all about?” Gareth asked. “She’s been talking to you a lot lately.”

Eddie blushed, looking down at his tray of food. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? It doesn’t seem like nothing,” Jeff said. “Cheerleaders don’t just talk to us.”

“She just wants to buy some stuff. That’s all.”

The guys exchanged a look. “Soooo,” Gareth drew out the word, “are you gonna tell us who gave you all those hickies?”

Eddie froze, suddenly self conscious. He didn’t even realize they’d been noticeable. He pulled his leather jacket higher around his neck.

“Oh, come on, you can’t pretend we didn’t already see them,” Grant laughed. “Just tell us!”

Eddie looked around. “Okay, yes, it was her. But shut up! Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

The guys all buzzed with excitement, talking over each other as they leaned in closer to Eddie. “How the hell did that happen? What did you guys do? Tell us everything.”

Eddie shook his head. “Uh uh. No way. I’m not going to kiss and tell.”

“When I kissed Carla, you made me tell you everything!” Gareth protested. “Don’t be lame.”

“You kissed Carla Peters for 30 seconds in 7th grade,” Eddie reminded him. “I think we’re dealing with a difference in maturity level here.”

Gareth rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered. “I would tell you if I lost my virginity. It’s a momentous occasion.”

“I didn’t lose my virginity,” Eddie whispered. “…Yet.”

After school, Eddie watched your cheer practice again. The other girls took notice this time, giving you strange looks. You heard them whispering - “What is that Freak doing here? What a creep.” You felt kind of bad for subjecting him to the gossip of your teammates, but they all shut up when you left with your arm linked in his.

He led you to his van, opening the door for you once again. This time on the ride to his house you chatted, giggling at the jokes Eddie would make. He tried to give you a crash course on D&D, but it was all going over your head.

At the house he held the door open for you, and you slipped inside, taking a seat on his couch. “Um…I know I have those shrooms somewhere…give me a sec.”

You looked all around the living room as Eddie took off to his bedroom, searching through drawers and cabinets. You examined the wall of hats, all the different places they came from and things they represented. By the time Eddie came back with the baggie in his hand, you had just looked at the last one.

“Got ‘em,” Eddie said, handing you the bag. You slipped it into your purse. “Uh…do you want to stay and hang out?”

“Of course,” you smiled at him, watching as he sat down on the couch. You slowly walked over next to him, his eyes on the way your legs moved beneath your skirt. He sure was weak for the uniform, you noticed.

You stood in front of him, looking down at his nervous form. He looked up at you with wide eyes, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands as you stood over him.

You trailed your hands down his arms, reaching his hands and placing them on your hips. He gulped, like he was in shock. But his grip tightened on your hips, feeling the material of your cheer skirt under his hands, wanting to push it up and-

You climbed onto his lap, straddling him. Eddie accidentally let out a low groan, betraying just how far gone he was for you already. You could feel how hard he was, the bulge through his jeans pressing up against your core. You wanted him, so wet your panties were soaked. You needed him.

“Eddie,” you whined, moving your hips against him. He groaned again, grip tightening even more.

“You look so fucking hot,” Eddie said through a clenched jaw, like he was trying to hold himself together. “You’re…a fucking dream, Jesus Christ-“

You leaned in to kiss at his neck, biting gently and making Eddie groan again. His hands were holding onto you as tight as possible, like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“You can touch me,” you said, wanting him to. You wanted to feel his hands all over, wanted to feel him. Every part of him.

He let go of his death grip on your hips and slowly roamed down your thighs as you continued kissing his neck, feeling the bare skin of your legs. He remembered what it was like to taste you, and the thought only made him harder in his jeans. He wanted to do it again and again.

Next his hands moved up, slowly feeling your sides until he reached your tits. They filled his hands perfectly, making him moan as he massaged them. He was desperate to get his mouth on them, to wrap his lips around your nipples, to suck on them.

He reached down and pulled your cheer top up until he was dropping it on his living room floor. He fumbled with your bra clasp for a while before he was able to remove that, too. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of your naked tits, mouth watering. He dove in, wrapping his lips around your nipple and making you gasp.

“Eddie,” you moaned, pleasantly surprised at his boldness. He was learning fast.

“So fucking sexy,” he moaned as his tongue swirled around your nipple, the sensation sending chills through your body. “Can’t believe you’re on my lap right now. Pretty little princess has a thing for the Freak, huh?”

You giggled lightly, eyes closed as you enjoyed the feeling of Eddie’s mouth. “When the Freak is this hot…”

Eddie chuckled. His hands gripped your ass as he switched to the other breast. He guided your hips to grind against him, as if it was possible for him to get any harder than he already was. He’d never been this hard in his life.

You tugged on his shirt and he got the hint, leaning forward to pull it off. Your hands roamed his tattooed chest, feeling the muscles of his chest, the soft skin of his stomach.

“Do you want to take me to your room?” you asked him, your voice a mere whisper against his lips.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Eddie said, then you were squealing as he stood, lifting you up. He stumbled a little and you laughed, but he made his way down the hall to his bedroom, leaving the discarded clothes on the living room floor.

He carefully dropped you down onto his messy bed, landing with a giggle. He kicked his shoes off and quickly undid his belt. You watched as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, shoving them down his legs. You could really see the size of his erection with nothing but his boxers on, and it was just as impressive as you remembered.

Next he slid your shoes off, leaving the white cheer socks in place. He slowly climbed up your body, pulling your skirt and panties down your legs. With you now fully naked, he looked at you wide eyed. “God, I can’t believe I’m about to fuck you.”

“Can’t believe you’re about to fuck me, or can’t believe you’re about to lose your virginity?” you teased with a laugh.

“Both,” Eddie smiled. He placed kisses all over your skin, his tongue darting out to taste every now and then. You were like a drug - he was utterly addicted to you already.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked him as he reached your lips again, kissing along your jaw and cheek before pressing his lips to yours.

“Uh, I do, actually,” he said sheepishly. “Gareth bought them for me as a joke. Now I guess joke’s on him, because they’re getting used well before he gets to touch a girl.”

You laughed at that - “Well, works out for us, I guess.”

Eddie reached over into the drawer of his bedside table, pulling the unopened box out. He felt a sense of pride as he opened it, pulling out one of the foil packets. This was really happening. He had a pretty girl naked in his bed. Finally.

You pushed his boxers down as he ripped the condom wrapper open with his teeth, sliding the rubber onto his cock just like he’d learned in health class. He was grateful Gareth got the biggest size as part of the joke - but it fit perfectly. Ha.

Eddie leaned over you with one arm by your head and the other between your bodies, pumping his cock a couple times as he lined it up at your entrance. He took a deep breath he hoped you didn’t notice, then he started pushing inside. You gasped at the intrusion, fingers gripping his bedsheets.

“Jesus, Ed,” you breathed, his cock nearly taking your breath away already.

“What?” he asked, stopping his movements. “Are you okay? Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, no,” you assured him. “You’re just fucking huge. But keep going, please.”

His ego properly stroked, he began sinking further into you. He was barely holding it together, a whimper involuntarily escaping from his lips. You were so unbelievably tight, hot, and wet…it felt better than his fist had on his best nights, and watching your face contorting in pleasure every inch he sunk into you was unreal. He had to shut his eyes to keep from cumming right that second.

He bottomed out, and you had never felt so full in your life. None of the guys you’d been with had been this big. Eddie reached down and spread your legs wide, holding them open as he pulled his hips back and snapped them back into you. He fucked into you quickly, filling you completely with every thrust.

“God, you- you’re so flexible, fuck-“

His pleasure-drunk rambling would have made you laugh if he wasn’t currently splitting you wide open with his cock, and looking unbelievably sexy while doing it. He threw his head back, long hair flying backwards. You raked your nails down his chest, making him moan loudly.

“Feels so good, Eddie, fuck, even better than my dreams-“

“You dream about me?” Eddie huffed a breathless laugh. “Fuck, princess, I dream about you too.”

You smiled and opened your mouth to speak just before a particularly hard thrust hit your bundle of nerves perfectly, making your back arch off his bed and the words on your tongue turn into a loud, high moan.

Fuck, the noises you were making were better than any porn he’d ever seen. He didn’t know how he was still going, he’d felt right on the edge since he got inside of you.

“Your pussy is fucking incredible, holy shit-“

Eddie’s hips stuttered into you, his rhythm faltering. He adjusted you into a mating press, fucking you wildly as the most pathetic yet sexy moans left his lips.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie,” you moaned, gripping onto his arms tightly. They were firmer and bigger than you expected, and you could feel his muscles contracting as he put all his effort into fucking you.

“I’m getting real close, baby,” he said, his voice strained. His arms were starting to tremble, his thrusts more frantic and needy. “But I need you to come first.”

You reached down between your sweaty bodies and rubbed circles on your clit, your body writhing beneath him. Eddie let out another pathetic moan at the sight, his rhythm faltering once again, his thrusts getting harder yet slower, hips snapping into you aggressively.

“Ohmygod, Eddie, Eddie, fuck! Yes yes yes, keep fucking me just like that-“

Your orgasm washed over you in a wave, hips grinding up against Eddie’s thrusts as you continued rubbing your clit. Your other hand pinched at your nipples, and the show sent Eddie reeling.

“I’m cumming, oh fuck, I’m…I-I love you! Shit-” Eddie cried out as he came, his eyes squeezing shut as his cum shot into you, filling you up with his spend. He held onto you tightly as he came, it felt endless, like he could cum forever. His body was trembling, hands shaking from their grip on your legs.

Your mouth dropped open in shock at his words, but Eddie didn’t process it until he came down from his high, breathing heavily on top of you.

“Oh, shit-“ Eddie said, sitting up and looking at you with a horrified expression. “I did not mean to say that, I don’t-“

You just stared at him, and then you burst out laughing. Eddie blushed a deep red as you laughed, but eventually he joined in. The two of you giggled together, you leaning your head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Eds. I’m not upset.” You held his hand, intertwining your fingers. “It’s a little early for that, but I like the sentiment.”

Eddie laughed. “I don’t know why I said that. It just came out.”

“The sex was that good?” you teased.

“Oh yeah.”

The next day at school, you stuck close by Eddie. You had decided to try dating, and you were unbelievably happy. You walked hand in hand, drawing the attention of absolutely every Hawkins High student. Chrissy’s jaw dropped when she saw the two of you, but then she gave you a bright smile - you knew she’d be in your corner no matter what.

You couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You had never felt so obsessed with a guy before, but you were head over heels for Eddie, and you didn’t care who knew or what anyone thought.

At lunch, you got your food and headed for the Hellfire table. You took a seat right next to Eddie, sharing the end of the table. Eddie beamed, putting his arm around you and pulling you into a kiss that was far too heated for the school cafeteria. His tongue slipped into your mouth, pressing against yours as he kissed you passionately.

The guys stared. Gareth looked at the others - “What the fuck?” he mouthed. Jeff just looked at him wide eyed, while Grant looked impressed. Mike and Dustin looked at each other, shocked.

When you finally pulled apart, you realized you had an audience. “Hi! I’m so sorry.”

Eddie didn’t look sorry at all. He looked happier than the guys had ever seen him. “Guys, this is my girlfriend,” he said with pride, introducing you by name.

The guys thought this had to be a joke. There’s no way you and Eddie had really hooked up, and there was no way you were together now. It made no sense. Yet here you were, all over each other like no one was watching.

You and Eddie shared your lunches with each other as you ate, the sickeningly sweet display holding the attention of every guy at the table.

No one said anything for a while, and you and Eddie were so caught up in your own little world, neither of you noticed. Finally, you got up to go get some napkins, and Gareth took his chance. He cleared his throat, and Eddie looked over at his best friend with a confused expression.

“Care to explain?” Gareth asked, the rest of the table watching on with interest.

“Explain what…?” Eddie asked, genuinely lost.

Gareth did a dramatic gesture towards you. “That.”

“What’s there to explain?” Eddie played with a piece of his food before popping it into his mouth. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Since when?” Gareth asked. “What the fuck has been going on?”

Eddie looked at your figure from across the cafeteria before turning back to his friends. “Since last night. She came over and we…had a nice night, and I asked her to be my girlfriend.”

“Did you lose your virginity?” Grant asked, the only one of the group who seemed excited for his friend.

Eddie glanced at Mike and Dustin, who were lost in their own conversation now. He nodded, and Grant held out a hand for a high five, which Eddie sheepishly accepted.

“Did she buy from you?” Gareth asked.

“Yeah…why?”

Gareth looked around again before he spoke. “I just…you don’t think she’s only messing around with you for the drugs, right? Cheerleaders don’t talk to us, they definitely don’t sleep with us.”

His words set a fire in Eddie, making him absolutely furious. “What did you just say about her?”

Gareth had never seen Eddie so angry, like flames flickering behind his deep brown eyes. ”Nothing, man. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You came back to the table then, all smiles and totally oblivious to the tension at the table. “I got you some too, baby,” you said softly to Eddie, handing him a couple of napkins. Eddie gave Gareth another harsh look, but moved on.

When you’d finished eating, Eddie kissed you again, before leaning his forehead against yours. “Wanna get out of here, baby?”

You giggled. “Where to?”

“My van?” he proposed, voice low and seductive yet still fully audible to the rest of the table. Gareth pretended to gag.

“Sounds good,” you agreed with a mischievous smile, standing along with Eddie. He grabbed your hand as the two of you rushed from the building, leaving Eddie’s friends dumbfounded. Chrissy gave you a smile as you left, but her boyfriend, Jason, scowled and whispered something to his friends.

In the parking lot, Eddie opened his van, letting you climb inside before he joined you. In the back you immediately met in a heated kiss, pulling at each other’s clothes and touching each other everywhere.

You pushed Eddie’s jacket off before tugging at his shirt, smirking when he quickly pulled it over his head. He pulled your panties off, leaving your cheer skirt on. He quickly undid his belt and jeans and pushed them down just enough to free his cock.

“Turn over for me, baby,” he said, pumping his cock in his fist. “Want that cute little ass in the air, ready for me.”

You did as Eddie said, moving onto your hands and knees before lowering your upper half to the floor of the van. Eddie groaned at the sight, hands rubbing over the skin of your ass beneath your skirt. He hiked the skirt up around your hips, leaving you exposed to him.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked him.

Eddie froze. “Shit. No, I didn’t bring one.”

You thought for a moment. “It’s okay. I want you anyway.”

Eddie’s grip on your hips tightened. “Are you sure, princess?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice assured. “I want it, Eds. I don’t care if you don’t have one, I need you in me.”

Eddie groaned, pressing his hard cock against you. He thrusted his hips lightly, grinding himself against your ass. “God, you’re going to be the death of me, princess. You’re fucking unreal.”

You felt him press against your pussy, sliding between your folds and collecting your wetness on his cock. The feeling was like heaven for him, the memories of being inside you came rushing back, making his dick throb. He had to have you again. And this time he’d get to feel you raw? The thought alone had his knees weak.

He pushed the head of his cock inside you, the stretch already too good. You both moaned as he filled you, inch by thick inch. When he bottomed out he wasted no time thrusting into you again and again, a quick pace rocking the van right there in the school parking lot for anyone who came outside to see.

The old van squeaked as it rocked back and forth with the power of Eddie’s frantic thrusting, the windows fogged up from the heat you two created together. He used his grip on your hips to pull your body back into him every time he thrusted into you, making them all the more intense.

He reached forward and pulled on your ponytail, jerking your head back and making you moan. “Eddie!”

“Oh fuck, you like that, baby? You want me to be a little rough?”

“Yes, fuck,” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut as he thoroughly pounded you from the back. When he suddenly pulled out you whimpered at the loss, but he quickly flipped you over.

Eddie sat up on his knees, throwing his shirt off before he pulled the handcuffs off his belt. Your eyes widened as he looped them through the bottom of the driver’s seat and attached them to your wrists, pinning them above your head.

The way your body stretched with your arms up like that was a sight to behold. It put your tits on full display, his hands grabbing for them the second he started fucking into you again. The angle he had your hips with him up on his knees was intoxicating, his cock hitting your bundle of nerves with every thrust.

“Please, Eddie, harder,” you begged, your voice a whiney moan. Eddie obliged immediately, the slapping noise of your skin meeting filling the space.

“Fuck, look so pretty like this, princess,” he huffed, out of breath from his vigorous movements and the heat you were creating in the stuffy van. “Never thought you’d be tied up in the back of the freak’s van, taking his cock and begging for more, huh?”

No, you didn’t. You were just as surprised as anyone at your current situation.

“You’re so good, too,” Eddie moaned. “Your pussy is so perfect. Fits my cock just right. I’m so deep in you, baby, fuck!”

Eddie was struggling to hold it together, the feeling of you wrapped around him without the barrier of the condom was almost too much to bear. He spread your legs wide and leaned over you, burying his face in your neck.

He whimpered into your neck as he fucked you, his shallow thrusts quick and desperate. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly to his sweaty body. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him even closer. It was so intimate, and Eddie was losing it.

He cried out as his orgasm hit him unexpectedly, hips rutting against you as he pumped all his cum inside, balls tightening, giving you everything he had. He moaned your name again and again, shuddering on top of you.

As he came down and pulled out of you, freeing you from the handcuffs, he realized you didn’t get to finish. “Oh, shit, baby. I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you-“

“Eddie, it’s really okay,” you giggled, not upset at all. “I still enjoyed myself. I don’t have to- oh!”

Eddie cut you off by diving between your legs, his tongue licking between your folds. He could taste himself where his cum leaked out of you, but he didn’t mind. You had never experienced anything like this before.

You moaned, writhing beneath his tongue, pulling on his long, soft hair. He devoured you, tongue moving up to flick over your clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking. His tongue was so long and so talented, he’d never done anything with a girl before you and you knew this, but you would never have guessed by the way he ate pussy.

Eddie moaned against you, slipping two of his fingers inside as his mouth focused on your clit. He pumped them in and out of you much like he’d fucked you, and it wasn’t long before you were clenching around his fingers, moaning little “Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!”s as you got closer and closer.

You came on his tongue, pulling hard on his curls and nearly screaming his name. If anyone was out in the parking lot, they’d know exactly what you were doing and who was doing it to you.

Eddie kept his movements up until you were pushing him away, overstimulated. He moved back up your body and kissed you hard, both of you smiling against each others’ lips.

Eddie tucked his spent cock away back in his jeans and collapsed against the wall of the van, still shirtless. You pulled your panties back on, straightening your uniform. “Do you wanna smoke?”

“Sure,” Eddie agreed easily, reaching into the front and pulling out an already rolled joint. He sparked it up with his lighter and took a drag, passing it to you.

As you smoked together, laughing and talking, Eddie felt like he was completely in love. But in the back of his head, Gareth’s words stuck with him, nagging. He didn’t really think you were only with him for the drugs, he was pretty sure you felt the same way about him as he did about you. Yet something about it wouldn’t leave him alone.

After practice and dressed comfortably in a t-shirt and soft short shorts, you walked to Eddie’s van with his arm around you. Your teammates gave you strange looks, but you didn’t care. You were happy.

“Hey!” You heard Chrissy’s voice calling your name as you were just leaving the building. You and Eddie both turned.

“Hey,” you greeted her with a smile. “What’s up?”

Chrissy looked awkward, uncomfortable. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure.” You looked up at Eddie and he smiled at you, bending down and placing a kiss to your lips. “Be right back.”

You followed Chrissy back into the locker room, which was deserted. Chrissy sighed, pacing back and forth.

“What’s up, Chris?” you asked, worried.

“It’s just…” She fiddled with her fingers. her nerves obvious. Like she was doing something she didn’t want to be doing. “Jason doesn’t like that you’re seeing Eddie.”

You blinked at her. Then, a laugh. “Chris, I love you to death, but I don’t really give a fuck what your boyfriend thinks.”

She winced, like she knew that was exactly what you were going to say. “Yeah, but…” She sighed again. “Jason thinks that it ruins the image of the cheer team. He thinks as long as you’re dating Eddie, you shouldn’t cheer. And he got the coach to agree.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your heart beat loud in your ears, your hands starting to shake. “What?”

Chrissy looked pained. ���I know. I tried to talk to him-“

“Why does Jason Carver have any say over who’s on the cheerleading team?” you asked, getting worked up. “This is bullshit. I’m team captain! And what’s wrong with Eddie? Besides that he’s a little different?” You scoffed. “You guys are so close minded it’s sickening.”

Chrissy looked as if you’d struck her. “It’s not me, I promise. I tried. But everyone else agreed.”

You felt sick to your stomach. You hadn’t felt as happy as you do with Eddie in…well, ever. You couldn’t choose between two things you loved.

Loved?

“I’ve got to go,” you said, shaking your head. “Maybe try to talk to your boyfriend again. Because mine hasn’t done anything wrong.”

You turned and left, catching up with Eddie. He wrapped his arm around you again with a smile, but he could tell something was wrong. “What happened, baby?”

“Nothing,” you said. You didn’t want to talk about it or make Eddie feel bad. And you were sure it wouldn’t really happen - right?

At Eddie’s trailer, it looked like he had cleaned up for you. He seemed nervous, even as you fell to the couch with lips locked together in a passionate make out session. His hand was under your shirt, grasping at your tits.

“Need you again,” he mumbled hurriedly as he pulled your shirt over your head. “Need to be inside you.”

“You sure no one will be home?” you asked, giggling as he leaned forward and kissed at your tits.

“Yeah. My uncle’s at work, we’re fine.”

He pulled your shorts and panties down before shoving his own jeans and boxers down. He spread your legs wide, neither of you caring about a condom this time. He sunk into you, snapping his hips into you wildly. He was desperate for you, no matter how many times he had you.

He groaned loudly, face in your neck again while he pounded into you. Your nails scratched down his shoulders, eyes rolling back at the bliss he was providing with nothing but his cock.

You were so caught up in each other that neither of you heard the key in the front door, or the door opening. However you did hear the shocked gasp that had Eddie pulling out of you in a hurry, covering your body with a throw pillow and yanking his jeans up.

“Jesus, Ed!” the older man exclaimed, covering his eyes. “On the couch??”

“Sorry, shit, sorry! What are you doing here?” Eddie buckled his jeans back up as you hurriedly redressed yourself. “I thought you’d be gone all night!”

“Forgot my lunch,” the man said, his voice gruff. “‘n just because I work nights doesn’t mean you can…do that in the living room, for god’s sake, Ed.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said again, his cheeks bright red. “You can uncover your eyes, we’re okay.”

The man cautiously lowered his hand, looking at the two of you. “I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend.”

Eddie chuckled. “It’s new. Baby, this is my Uncle Wayne. Wayne, this is my girlfriend.” He introduced you by name, and Wayne gave you a friendly smile.

“Well, strange way to meet one another, but glad to meet you,” Wayne said.

“You too,” was all you could offer.

When Wayne grabbed his lunch and left again, you slapped Eddie on the arm. “You said you knew we’d be alone!”

Eddie laughed, dodging you. “How was I supposed to know he’d forget his lunch and come back?”

You supposed he had a point. You couldn’t stay mad at him - not that you really were to begin with. You cared deeply about Eddie, and you wanted to be with him. You just hoped that wouldn’t keep you from being on the cheer team.

part 2?

[songbirdmunson]

18+ only please & thank you (warning: talk of choking)

Give me Eddie that only cums the hardest when you’re bouncing on his dick slowly, absolutely tortuously grinding yourself down against him. His chest is red, his face flushed as he looks up at you, he swears you’re an angel sent straight from heaven to kill him, before he knows it his mouth is saying words that his brain can’t keep up with. “Choke me please.” And you’re so happy to oblige him. Your smaller hand wraps itself around his throat and squeezes until his eyes are rolling back into his head and he’s cumming so deep inside you- it’ll be leaking out of you for days.

[electrosuite]

okay. al. i need something put into words. idk if you've seen it but in "we live in time" andrew and florence didn't hear cut when filming a sex scene. so i was wondering. could you do something where eddie has taken up acting. it's an experimental movie, so y'all are actually fucking. it's unsimulated sex. y'all don't hear cut, but you're so into it that neither of you stop. you don't notice until he cums, then you both remember the cameras.

warnings: swearing, fingering oral sex, descriptive sex, sex on camera

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i saw we live in time opening week and absolutely loved it. put andrew garfield's bare ass in more movies!!!

masterlist

One of the best decisions you'd made was moving to Hollywood to pursue acting. You loved it, and you were a natural. You could make yourself cry on command, you often lost yourself in scenes, and you weren't afraid to get nude on camera. That was something that was pretty common for the 80s, specifically female nudity.

You'd filmed many sex scenes in your career, but they were all simulated. Prosthetics, body doubles, cushions between bodies. But when you were approached to do an experimental film, one with completely unsimulated sex, your curiosity was piqued.

You were told you wouldn't meet the other actor until the day of, which turned out to be the first day on set. You were told that some studios, this one included, preferred to get sex scenes out of the way first and film the rest after. Your first impression of this guy would be when you had sex with him.

So when you were sitting on set in your tight black dress — which would be removed in the scene — and he walked in, your eyes widened. He was very handsome, just your type. He had long curly black hair, he was covered in tattoos, and immediately started joking around with the crew. He was wearing a suit, one which fit his body nicely.

When he spotted you, he walked right over and sat next to you.

"You my co-star?" he asked in a hopeful tone.

"That would be me."

"Eddie." He stuck his hand out and you shook it.

"Y/N."

"You look familiar. I feel like I've seen you in something else before."

"Maybe. Sorry, but I don't recognize you."

"I haven't been in anything big, just a couple of low-budget movies." He noticed your nervous energy. "You okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Sorry, just... I've never done anything... real. It's always been fake sex."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Well, it's a first for both of us, then. It's a first-first for me, I've never done anything like this."

"Really?"

"Yep. Never even taken my shirt off on camera."

"And you're just jumping right in, huh?"

"Why not? If I'm gonna do it, I might as well go all in."

"Well, are you at least experienced?" you joked.

"Oh, I'm experienced. Yeah." You chuckled. "Also, I was told to tell you that they had me go ahead and put a condom on so it wouldn't disrupt the flow or anything. They said you were pretty adamant about it."

"Thank god. I really don't want to leave here today pregnant."

This made both of you laugh, but it was true. That was the most important thing to you when agreeing to do this movie.

"Alright, actors in positions," announced the director, who settled into his chair next to the camera.

Before you could get up, Eddie looked back at you. "Hey, I know we'll be recording, but don't let that stop you from telling me if I'm crossing any boundaries, alright?"

"Okay."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Thank you."

"Of course."

The scene immediately started with the two of you standing at the edge of a bed, inches away from each other. So that's where you went, your calves touching the mattress.

You'd read over the script for this scene numerous times. There was a camera a few feet from the bed, and one strapped onto the ceiling above where you would be laying. Neither of you would speak, just moan.

You were getting more nervous by the second, the lack of space between you two making your heart pound.

"Hey," he whispered, making eye contact with you. "You still good?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I'm good." You got yourself into the acting mindset as they finalized the cameras. "Ready."

"Quiet on set," yelled the director. Everyone hushed, the silence making you realize how many eyes were on you. "Action!"

You reached up and slowly undid Eddie's tie, his eyes never leaving your face. Once it was on the floor, he pulled you in for a kiss. It was gentle yet deep, both of you taking in a deep breath. His hands gripped your sides, your palms flat against his chest.

He reached around you and unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor. He then effortlessly unhooked your bra and you pulled it off of yourself. So far this was exactly like some of the other scenes you'd filmed. It was always a little bit nerve-wracking to expose yourself on camera — how could it not be?

He pushed you down onto the bed, his knees on the edge between yours.

He wasn't supposed to kiss you as long as he did. It was only supposed to be a couple before he moved on, but he was going off script a bit. His hand cupped the breast visible to the camera, which was now a bit closer.

He began kissing down to your neck a bit, then trailing along your body. He wrapped his lips around your nipple, his tongue circling it. You couldn't help but tangle your fingers in his hair, knowing it would help the scene.

As he kissed down your body, he maintained eye contact with you, watching to make sure you were still comfortable with this. Once he was to your thighs, he knelt down next to the bed and pulled you by the legs closer to him.

He slowly pulled your underwear off, dropping them on top of your dress. He continued to leave kisses on your thighs, making a genuine and impatient whine escape your mouth.

The feeling of his tongue on your clit made you gasp, your hands immediately finding their way back to his hair. This was weird with cameras, and at first it made it hard for you to really get in the mood.

But he was good with his tongue. You were so used to fake moaning that the real ones that came out of you felt foreign. His hands on your thighs, keeping them spread, were also keeping your hips still.

Usually when you filmed cunnilingus scenes, they kept their mouth closed and just positioned their face between your legs. So it was a foreign feeling to actually be eaten out on camera.

He couldn't stop staring at you, you looked so beautiful. Your head thrown back, back arched, tits out and nipples hard, fingers pulling his hair.

He wasn't supposed to make you cum, the script didn't call for it. He was supposed to do this for about thirty seconds and move on to the actual sex. But he was told that if the scene lasted too long, they could just edit it down. So he decided before even meeting you that he would make sure you had at least one orgasm today.

And it didn't take you long to get there. The camera had moved now so that it was behind him and to the side, getting a shot of his back and your face simultaneously.

"Fuck," you whispered to yourself as you felt your orgasm approaching, and fast. You were worried about how you would look, actually cumming and being recorded. You were trying to remain as calm as you possibly could, but you'd never been eaten out like this.

You were much louder than you anticipated when you finally came, and Eddie had to hold you down to keep you in the shot. When he finally stopped, he was immediately back to kissing you. He was still fully clothed, so you pushed his jacket off of his shoulders.

Instead of unbuttoning his shirt, he just pulled it over his head. He had a beautiful body, and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. You reached down and helped remove his belt, but he took over a moment later.

Within a minute, he was completely nude, and you got a good view of what he was packing. You were told before the shoot that you'd be having unprotected sex, and as you were already on birth control, it wasn't that big of a deal to you. Or at least, it wasn't until you were finally here. Now it was sinking in that you were about to be creampied by a guy you just met less than five minutes ago.

He was already rock hard, the sounds that escaped your mouth having gotten him bricked up immediately. He loved giving oral. It was one of his favorite things in the world. If it was up to him, he would've kept going, gotten you completely out of your mind before fucking your brains out.

He positioned himself back at eye level with you, reaching down and lining himself up with your entrance.

"That okay?" he whispered into your neck as he pressed kisses to your skin. He wasn't supposed to say that, the script calling for no dialogue aside from the natural swears that would occur. But he'd already gone against it, and asking for consent was something he insisted on.

"Mm," you moaned simply, nodding as minimally as possible.

With zero hesitation, he pushed into you, and the gasp that filled the room was almost comical. It was such a perfect porno moan that you couldn't believe it was genuine, even though it came from you.

He stretched you out so much, so perfectly, you weren't sure you could handle much of this. It was almost too much, too good.

He engulfed your mouth into his, kissing you deeply as he immediately picked up his pace. The bed was already squeaking, and your chest was already red.

The camera was above your head now, recording from an angle that showed the top of your thighs and your head thrown back as Eddie began sucking hickeys onto the skin of your neck.

That was when the scene was supposed to end. It was the shortest one in the script, which was another reason they wanted to get it over with first. But when the director shouted "Cut!", neither of you could hear him over the animalistic moans you both were letting out.

In fact, he called it about three times. But you two were so immersed, and your moans were so loud in each other's ears that it was useless. After a moment and after all the equipment was put down, the entire crew left the room and just allowed you to finish.

Out of all the times you'd had sex before, you didn't expect the best to be a completely scripted one. Eddie wasn't lying when he said he was experienced, he knew how to hit every nook in cranny in you like it was the millionth time.

When he felt himself getting close, he reached down and began circling your clit with his thumb. In the movies he'd seen, they always came at the same time. That didn't happen much in real life, but he wanted to make it look cinematic because, to his knowledge, they were still filming.

You gasped at the sudden contact, not expecting it. Thirty seconds later, you were cumming in sync, moaning into each other's mouths. He kept it going as long as he could but eventually he had to stop. Both his and your legs were trembling, sweat beading on your upper lip.

He kissed you for a moment, thinking in his head how great that would look on camera.

But when you both looked over at where the crew was, they were gone. You were confused, wondering why they didn't film as much as possible.

"Oh my god," you said, looking back up at Eddie. "Did they yell cut?"

His eyes widened. "Did they?"

"Did you hear them at all?"

"No, I didn't. Did you?"

"No."

You couldn't help but giggle at the situation. "Holy fucking shit."

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck."

"That's kind of hilarious."

He pulled out of you, pulling the condom off before grabbing one of the robes from the crates behind the camera, tossing another one to you. He opened the door to the rest of the set and the crew's heads shot up to look at him.

"Did... you yell cut?" he asked the director.

"Yep. Three times. You guys were so into it we figured we'd just let you finish."

That was when you laughed even harder, your head fuzzy and body tired.

After everything was cleaned up and you were heading back to your trailers, you caught up with Eddie outside his.

"Sorry we didn't hear cut earlier," you apologized.

"I'm not." He smirked slyly, and you felt butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"Do you think you'd do something like this again? Real sex on a set?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. With the right person."

"Well, if I get another opportunity like this, you're the first person I'm recommending."

"God, please do." His voice was raspy now, seductive, sultry. Normally you didn't pay any mind to men who flirted with you. But something about actually fucking Eddie seemed to form some kind of bond, maybe just in your head.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a napkin, which had your phone number written on it. You leaned in close, wanting this to stay between the two of you.

"Well, if you ever want to do something without cameras, call me." You turned around to walk to your trailer, his eyes glued to your ass the whole time.

He swore he could get rock hard again right now if he wanted to. Something was different about you. You were one of the best fucks he'd ever had, and he intended on using that phone number sometime soon.

[ml080504]

"bestie we are having you put down" I say as i look in the mirror and realize i spent 5 hours reading smut

[strawbbzombwie]

Treasure.

Warnings: This is definitely not historically accurate but I’ll try my best😭 18+ so MDNI!! Emperor geta x fem!reader, Geta is possessive asf, P in v smut, loss of virginity, fingering, breeding kink, creampie, Geta and reader are newly married.

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: This is my first proper time writing a fanfic so I hope it’s alright and you enjoy it!!🫶🫶

~

“You seem nervous.” Geta spoke, snapping you out of your thoughts. You set eyes on your new husband, his back facing you as he set down the chalice of wine he held in his hand.

Your eyes scanned the chambers now belonging to you and him, dimly lit with candles casting a shadow over Geta. The nervous pit in your stomach grew more and more unbearable as time went on. Finally, his eyes met yours.

“Should I be nervous?” You muttered. He smirked at you, his dark eyes gazing into yours and scanning the rest of your body, practically undressing you with his eyes. You wore a white tunic adorned with a golden belt tied around your waist, your wrist covered with a golden bracelet and now a golden ring on your finger.

To Geta, you were an angel sent from the heavens themselves. He felt proud to call you his wife, proud he got to call you his before any other man could. To him, you were his treasure, his most prized possession and his empress.

“Of course not. I won’t hurt you.” He smiled at you, running his hand across your soft skin. You felt his calloused fingers run down your face, his cold rings making you shiver. You looked up at him, smiling back at him. His thumb grazed across your bottom lip. You could feel your face growing warm, the nervous feeling in your stomach disappearing and being replaced with arousal.

He cupped your face in his hand and interlocked his lips with yours, sharing a passionate kiss. His lips felt soft against your own, the sweet but bitter taste of wine now invading your mouth. It felt intoxicating, sharing an intimate moment with your new husband felt comforting to you but the slight ache between your legs grew more agonising the more time he spent kissing you.

His hand left your face, moving to your shoulder and slipping the fabric down and then down to your belt, untying the knot and letting it fall down onto the floor, your tunic pooling around you shortly afterwards.

You felt vulnerable. There you were, completely exposed and at his mercy. You felt his soft lips leave yours and watched as he took a step back to look at you. He looked you up and down, the smile on his face clear as day.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe you’re all mine.” He said, lust dripping from his voice. Those last two words made your knees weak.

“All mine.”

He was right, you were all his. You were his empress, his wife, the mother to his future children. You were his and belonged to no one else. You were his to fuck. To claim. To breed. If anyone else were so much as to look in your direction, he would kill them with his own hands.

“I’m all yours..” you mutter, arousal pooling between your thighs. He grinned, leading you to the bed now belonging to you and him.

“Lay down.” He commanded, beginning to take off his own garments. You obeyed, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him undress. You began to feel nervous again. There was no denying that Geta has had sex before. You on the other hand, were still a virgin. Geta could see the panic on your face and speaks up.

“Don’t worry. We’ll start slow so it wont hurt. I wouldn’t dream of hurting a pretty girl like you.” He reassured you, the praise causing you to hold back a moan. He finally finished untying his belt, also letting his robes fall to the floor. Your eyes immediately went down to his cock. Now you understood why he carried himself with confidence.

He was thick, not too big but big enough to make you feel nervous and he was fully hard, the tip red and angry resting against his stomach leaking precum.

Your eyes widened, brows furrowing in worry as you now realised that this was truly happening, you were about to lose your virginity. Geta walked up to you and sat down next to you, pressing soft kisses on your jawline and down your neck, causing a moan to slip out of your mouth.

“Relax and let me make you feel good” he groaned, his hand caressing your body, resting on your stomach, his rings making you jump.

“Soon enough you will be carrying our heir. The future emperor of Rome.” He whispers in your ear, his warm breath causing you to shiver. He leans down, pressing a kiss onto your stomach and kissing up your body, your tits and eventually back to your neck.

His hand wandered further down until it was between your legs, lightly grazing his fingers across your cunt, causing you to moan out. It was music to his ears. He wanted to make you a moaning mess only for his ears to hear, only for him. It made him proud, knowing he would be the one making you moan and whine in pleasure, knowing he would be the one making you cum around his cock as he continued to fuck you through your orgasms.

His index finger pressed against your clit, beginning to rub it in slow circular motions. Your head fell back and moans of pleasure began to fall out of your mouth. You felt your body grow weak.

“You’re doing to well for me.” He said, a smirk growing on his face as he took his finger off your clit and pressed it against your entrance, feeling your slick coat his fingers. He slowly pushed his finger inside of you, causing you to yelp out. It hurt but the pain was quickly replaced by pleasure as he began moving his finger in and out of you, quickly finding that spot within you that made you grip onto his arm.

You could feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter as he inserted another finger, his palm bumping against your clit. His eyes were dark with lust as his gaze met yours, lips interlocking with one another’s as you came undone with his fingers.

He moved away from you, removing his fingers from you and bringing them up to his mouth, tasting the slick coating them. You whined at the empty feeling but could not take your eyes off the sight in front of you.

“You taste divine.” He says, removing his fingers from his mouth and moving so he’s situated between your thighs, gazing down at his lovely wife. He gathered your arousal on his fingers and coated it on his cock, adjusting himself so he is pressed against your entrance.

“You’ll feel great I promise.” He whispers, slowly pushing himself inside of you, causing you to whimper in pain while he bottomed out. He took his time, letting you adjust to him inside of you before slowly thrusting in and out.

Moans began falling out of your mouth as your hands gripped the bedsheets, your tits bouncing with every thrust. Your legs wrapped around his hips, wanting him to be closer to you.

Geta was watching you unravel right in front of him, watching how your tits bounced every time he thrusted into you, watching how your eyes rolled back in pleasure. It made him proud, knowing he was finally claiming you as his own. He could feel his own orgasm building up as he moved his hand to rub fast circles on your clit as he quickened his pace.

The knot in your stomach became unbearable as your sounds of ecstasy grew louder, your hands gripping to Geta’s arms.

“Go on. Cum for me.” He moans out, causing the knot to snap and for you to come undone around his cock, twitching in pleasure. Geta’s thrusts began to grow sloppy as he unravels in front of you, spilling his seed inside your pussy.

A few moments pass and you are both a sweaty, panting mess. He pulls out of you and watches the cum leak out from you, scooping it up and pushing it back inside you with his fingers. You quietly moaned at the sensation.

“Can’t have any go to waste can we?” He smiled. You slowly shook your head, eyes growing tired as your body begins to feel heavy. Geta lies down next to you, wrapping his arms around you as he kisses your cheek.

“You did so well for me.” He mumbled into your ear, his hot breath feeling comforting as you both begin feeling tired. His hand finds its way to your stomach again, rubbing small and slow circles around it. You feel your eyes begin to close as you hear your husband say something before you drift off to sleep.

“My perfect treasure.”

~

I really hope you enjoyed reading this I loved making it and hopefully I will write more soon!!This is my first fic so it may not be as good as ones I write in the future but I’m super proud of it!!💖💖

[lovebugism]

✶ ┄ HOUNDS OF LOVE !

part one | part two

summary: you and marcus live lightyears apart within the city walls when emperor geta takes a greater liking to you than expected. you start to find a strange sense of understanding within the crazed emperor, while general acacius plots your escape. (11k)

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

contents: established relationships, angst, hurt/comfort, cw for mentions of war, mentions of sex work, brief mentions of emotional abuse (geta has anger issues he's working on), swearing, smut 18+ (dubcon, unprotected sex, exhibitionism & voyeurism) (this is another dark fic!! please heed the warnings!!)

“Meet me in the garden,” you pant against the General’s mouth as you kiss him with a desperate sort of fervor. It’s all wet and hungry and unforgiving, like biting into an apple. “At sunset, on the morrow. Say you’ll meet me there.”

Despite your delicate touch, you cradle Marcus in a most violent hold. You keep him impossibly close with one hand wrapped around his neck, tanned and taut with the strain of war. Your other twists in his hair, dancing through the greying curls of fine silk. You embrace the General within the candlelit crypt where, before now, only death seemed to roam.

Marcus stands as still as the statues of ghosts surrounding you. You lick into his mouth like you plan to breathe life back into his lungs, even while he withers into nothingness at your feet. A thin layer of your spit coats the scruff of his chin. He balls his calloused hands into fists at his sides and pretends a part of you isn’t glittering upon him. He holds onto plausible deniability like a shield.

“It is not safe,” Marcus murmurs in a gruff whisper when you pull back to take a breath. His lidded eyes dart over your kissed face — gaze heavied, lips swollen. Beautiful devil, fallen angel. “You know this.”

Not anymore, he wants to say. Not while you belong to Them.

“Why not?” you challenge, always so girlishly gentle in your stubbornness. “Everyone will be at the feast, Marcus— No one will see us, I’m sure of it.”

Your eyes flit between his kissed mouth and dark-eyed gaze. Universes shine in your irises despite the shadows of the labyrinthine tomb. Marcus feels a white-hot knife twisting in his chest as he resists the urge to hold you.

“It’s the world we live in now, petal. There is little use in questioning it.”

“But why?” you question, anyway. “Why must we live in this world, hm? The war is over— We could make our own, somewhere far away from the city. Somewhere no one could ever find us—”

You create heavens with your naivety.

Marcus burns them down with words.

“The Emperors would not stand for losing their general. For them, the war is never finished,” the General interjects in a sorrowful deadpan, aching when your face twists with grief. “And if they misplaced you? They… They would burn cities to the ground in their hunt… They would set the world aflame before they stopped searching for you.”

Marcus knows this because he knows himself — every star in the sky would burn out before he stopped looking for you. He knows this, too, because he knows the Emperors. Perhaps better than anyone else in the entire world. 

Geta and Caracalla were born with the belief that they possessed ownership over everything they touched. Anyone stealing from their Empire would meet a swift and tortuous demise. They were merciless gods who dangled life and death on their fingertips. Only those who kissed the ring would make it out of their rule alive.

And you knew it, too. 

That was the worst part of it all: you knew it.

Tomorrow comes and passes like rolling summer clouds, slow and heavy and suffocating. You watch from the royal garden as the sky turns from a glittering sapphire to milky shades of peach and lavender. Another day gone by that you’ve spent grieving on your own. 

Though time marches mercilessly on, threatening to untie unbreakable bonds, it changes little of how much you and Marcus have grown together. Like cherry trees kissed with the promise of spring, with your roots tangled gracelessly together. It’s a knot that cannot be undone, not even by the promise of death. 

And for that, you figure you must be grateful.

Because as you sit on the stone steps of an artificial lake, twirling your fingers in the warm water of the koi pond, you wonder how dreadful it must be for the multi-colored carp. To swim in circles your whole life, to think the world is only as big as the bricks holding you hostage. 

At least you know what it means to grow up in the rolling green of an infinite countryside. At least now you have gardens to roam in the greatest city in the world. At least now you get to live.

A breeze sweeps suddenly through the garden, rippling the crystalline water and rustling the bright green leaves over your head. It carries the soft sound of footsteps scraping the stone trail. Your ears perk, your heart stops, and your head whips over your shoulder. You hope to see Marcus standing at the steps below you.

Your chest tightens and deflates all at once at the sight of Emperor Geta.

He’s adorned in his white-gold cloak, with his laurels sat atop his strawberry-blonde curls, and carrying a jeweled ring on each finger. The sunlight paints the man in flaxen rays of light. The rainbow-colored flowers seem to bloom with every one of his steps. All you can think is how beautiful he is — much too pretty to be so cruel.

“I did not mean to frighten you,” the Emperor concedes, eyes wide and palms splayed in surrender. His sandals scuff the cobbles with each hesitant stride.

“No, of course not,” you blurt with a rapid shake of your head, a quickness sure to give away your choked-back terror. “I just… I only thought you’d be at the dining hall with the rest of the court.”

“I was. Until the handmaidens notified me of your absence.”

You meet his wide-eyed expression with a narrowed gaze, lips curling into an unsure smile. “How can I be absent from a place I do not belong, Your Majesty?” you quip, though your voice threatens to shake.

Geta’s brows furrow. His ringed fingers twitch at his sides. “Belong?” he echoes.

“The feast is for nobility, and I grew up in a brothel,” you answer, giggling quietly under your breath. “I am certainly the farthest thing from royalty.”

You flash him a gentle smile and playful gaze, but the Emperor only frowns. 

He can hardly stomach the thought of it — of his most precious thing living in the countryside, surrounded by filth, touched by unworthy hands. He’s glad you’re now, where only he can touch you. Where he can make you clean.

“There is a place for you there, nonetheless,” Geta tells you and takes another step closer. He stands at the bottom of the stone steps and tilts his chin to his chest. His chocolate eyes harden as he presses more firmly, “And I will see that you attend.”

His sudden glacial disposition makes your stomach wrench. You’ve grown so used to him now, learned all the ways to keep him satisfied, that you’ve forgotten how quickly angered he can be. You don’t want to remember his wrath. 

You nod at the invitation with a wavering smile, knowing you aren’t at liberty to turn him down, and rise from your spot by the pool.

You hold your gown in both hands as you descend the stairs, flinching slightly when Geta rushes to help you. Sometimes, you think he can sense your worry, or that he regrets snapping at you the way he does. Either way, his efforts to pivot the situation are apparent to you — like he never learned how to apologize, so he’s forced to improvise in the matter.

His warm, petaled hand engulfs you to ease you down the tricky cobbles. 

“I only mean that… it is strange. Being without there… Or anywhere, really,” he admits, talking slowly like each word is foreign to him. His gaze darts from yours to the vacant path ahead. “I find that I am looking for you in places I knew you could not be. It’s foolish, I know.”

His gentleness is perhaps more striking than his rage.

“It isn’t foolish, Your Majesty,” you insist as you reach the bottom of the staircase. You peer at him through your lashes and fake another smile. “I just didn’t know you were such a poet.”

Geta doesn’t understand your meaning. Where was the poetry in his words? How did such burdensome feelings of tenderness make him a poet? 

“Neither did I,” he muses, guiding you out of the garden with his hand in yours.

Though still riddled with feelings of uncertainty, Geta is strangely moved by how you’re looking at him now — with the sun sparkling in your softened gaze, more gentle than anyone deserves to be looked at. So he figures he can be a poet for you, if he must.

You bathe again in the rosehip oil Geta always insists you wear, and dress yourself in the fine silk gown you know he prefers. The pale blue fabric drapes off your shoulders and flows to your ankles, cinched at the waist with a jewel-encrusted belt of gold. Your skin and body are adorned, in this moment alone, with perhaps more money than you’ve ever seen in your life. 

The thought makes your head swim as you amble to the dining hall. 

The silent guards at your side make no effort to rush you for fear of the Emperors’ wrath. Still, though, the notion that they are commissioned to ensure your attendance is not lost on you. Any attempt to flee will surely be met with force — if not from the knights, then from Geta himself.

The feasting is long done by the time you arrive. Mingling bodies flit around the crowded manor in a blur. Live music swells distantly as rose petals fall from thin air to decorate the marble floor. You wring your hands nervously together as you weave through the bustling court, gravitating to the large open window at the back of the hall — where you know the Emperors rest on their plush, velvet chaises.

Caracalla notices you first.

The boy rises from his lounged position — laurels crooked on his blonde head and robe shifting up his pale thighs — and smiles at you with all his crooked teeth. His lone golden tooth glints in the sunlight. 

“You showed,” he announces to no one in particular, just before his wild head swivels to his brother on the other side of the couch. “See, brother? I told you there was naught to worry about. Did I not?”

Geta does not appear happy to see you. His features remain in an emotionless scowl while his smokey eyes rake over your form. “You did,” he responds distantly, if only to appease his younger brother.

Caracalla doesn’t seem to notice the tension caging him on both sides as he flashes you another toothy grin. “He threatened to send the Praetorians after you,” he lilts like it’s some kind of silly secret. 

The Emperors’ bodyguards line the wall behind them, as well as all the entrances and nearly every window. They were like your Marcus — military veterans, strong and sharp and ruthless — though you imagine the only soft side you’ll ever see of them is a fist. They are certainly not the kind of people you want sent after you.

“Well, you were right, Your Majesty,” you grin. “There was naught to worry about. I was simply making myself presentable for the court.”

Caracalla holds his ringed hand out for you as you near him. You bend at the waist to kiss the emerald on his ring finger. The motion is muscle memory to you now. “You look beautiful,” he slurs like a child. “Like a fairy, almost.” 

“You flatter me, Your Majesty,” you nod politely and rise to full height again. 

You feel his ocean eyes on your body as you pass him by, glassy and sparkling with a boyish sort of wonder. A stark contrast to the way his brother glares daggers at you. 

“You certainly took your time,” Geta monotones in place of a greeting.

You stand obediently at his side and twist your clammy hands into knots. “I was only getting dressed, Your Majesty. I wanted to look pretty for you—”

“Nonsense,” the Emperor spits and turns away. You’re always pretty, he’d say if he could get the words out. Instead, he softens his suddenly hardened edges and flashes you a gentler glance. “I thought you’d defied me,” he confesses, as though in lieu of an apology for his fleeting hysterics.

“I couldn’t,” you murmur with a quiet smile.

Not wouldn’t, he notices. Not shouldn’t.

But couldn’t. Like your body was fated to listen to his command.

A funny feeling sparkles like gold in his chest. It makes him fidget uncomfortably on the couch. “Sit down,” he instructs with a wave of his ringed hand before slouching back in his seat, pale arms splayed along the edge of it. His brows pinch when you descend onto the empty spot beside him. “Not there.”

You freeze in place. Your eyes widen and dart to his thighs, spread out and hidden beneath the skirt of his robe. You look to Geta once more and cower beneath his expectant look. You sink hesitantly onto his lap, feeling like your heart’s in your throat as you lean into his chest. 

Your unsure hands curl around his shoulders. His curls brush your cheek. He smells overwhelmingly of musk and wine and cinnamon. Something about it makes you dizzy.

You survey the room from your position in Geta’s lap. Most people aren’t looking, you find, too busy talking and flirting and dancing together. A few noblemen across the way leer incredulously at you, though, like they’re trying to gauge if they know you from somewhere. You presume you likely slept with one or more of their sons during the war, most of which are likely dead now.

A few women crowd behind the chaise — all dressed in muted shades of silk, all dripped in jewels and gold. They’re pretty, effortlessly so, as they talk into their goblets full of wine. Some looked relieved to have the Emperors’ attention off of them. Others sneer at you for it, having no idea you’d switch places with them in a heartbeat if you could.

Your eyes dart across the dining hall, almost instinctually so. They lock immediately with Marcus the moment he enters the room. 

The General wears his black-gold armor and a faraway look in his eye as he leads a group of foreign gladiators into the manor. A hush lulls over the crowd, which parts for him without thinking. Marcus navigates through it with an absentminded sternness, like every step is muscle memory. 

He softens only when his gaze meets yours. 

His puffed-out chest deflates with a wavering exhale at the sight of you, a lamb on the lap of a man who holds a knife to your throat. He blames himself for it most of all, knowing he’s the one that brought you to slaughter. 

“Finally!” Caracalla shouts into the silence, voice ringing through the hushed court. “Where have you all been— In the showers together?” 

A bout of laughter rolls over the crowd as the blonde boy leans over to you. You try not to grimace at the bitter smell of wine on his breath. “Who nearly missed the games, little dove,” he croons too close to your ear. 

The nickname makes you tense. You muster a smile, anyway, and remind yourself to breathe. “What a shame that would’ve been,” you lilt in response.

“The armor is tricky, Your Majesty,” Acacius confesses, voice deep like a cathedral organ. “Especially for those who have not donned it before. Such as yourself.”

There is a bite to his words despite their monotoned delivery. Caracalla pays it no mind as he lounges back on the couch, wine sloshing in the chalice he holds in a limp hand. “Get it out with it, then,” he slurs.

Each gladiator faces the other. One is tall and sturdy, like an oak tree. The other is shorter and lankier, much too young and far too pretty to fight in such gruesome battles. As Marcus’ voice booms throughout the quiet dining hall to introduce them — The Barbarian versus The Might Vincenzo — Geta presses his mouth to your ear. 

“Which one shall we bet on, little dove?” he whispers to you as his hand curls tighter around your waist. His other idles over your skirt, pale and jeweled and warm, though his long fingers threaten to dip between your thighs.

You blink hard to keep your head from swimming. “Hm?”

“Which one of these imbeciles do you think will win?” Geta repeats.

“Oh, um, I— I don’t know, Your Majesty,” you stammer in response. It’s hard to think about anything other than how close Marcus is to you now. How pretty and wartorn he looks. How desperately you wish to hold him.

“Just guess,” the Emperor presses, squeezing softly at your hip. “It’s only for entertainment, anyway.”

How could certain death possibly entertain you? your mind races as your mouth blurts, “The little one, then.”

“Really?” Geta hums in amusement. His dark eyes, smudged with brown liner, squint softly at your glossy profile. They flit across your features like he’s seeing you for the very first time, though you aren’t looking back at him to notice. “Hm. I would’ve picked the oaf.”

“Well, it is the most obvious choice, Your Majesty. Though, I find it’s often the smaller ones that surprise you—” 

You turn your head to look at him. Your breath catches audibly in your throat when you find the Emperor much closer than expected. He’s so close your eyes nearly cross to meet his gaze. So close, that the tip of his large nose threatens to brush the bridge of yours. So close, you get drunk on the alcohol tainting his breath.

Geta’s wine-stained mouth curls upwards in a cynical smile. “They do, indeed,” he croons quietly, raspberry breath fanning warm over your jaw. 

Chills pebble along your skin accordingly. It takes great strength from you to break his magnetic chocolate gaze. You turn away from the Emperor and focus instead on the gladiators circling one another. Vincenzo moves in seemingly practiced motions, unfazed by the brutality of such duels. The nameless Barbarian houses a great sadness in his young eyes — a hardened look of regret, perhaps, for what he knows he must do. 

“Let’s not entertain them for our amusement, brother,” the Barbarian mutters lowly to his opponent, blade hanging limp at his side.

The larger man charges like a rhino. A deep roar sounds in his throat as he thrusts his knife towards the younger boy’s neck. The Barbarian dodges the swing with ease, possessing all the swiftness of a snake as he ducks past his opponent and slices his muscular bicep with one fell swoop.

The crowd gasps in a mixture of horror and amusement as Vincenzo’s blood drips onto the floor like deep red wine. It stains the marble in fat droplets, blending with the rose petals littered at the gladiators’ feet.

You flinch at the sight. Your breath hitches as you turn away — eyes squeezed shut, brows tightly furrowed. Geta chuckles with merriment. You feel it rumbling in his chest as he murmurs, “Don’t be frightened, little dove. It’s only a game.”

Something in you aches when the Emperor reaches for the jeweled goblet at his side. Your fearful eyes remain fixed on his face while the hall erupts in a symphony of violence — of battle cries and laughter, of dropped blades and dull smacks. 

“Here,” Geta offers with the wine in hand. “Drink. It will calm your nerves.”

He presses the rim of the chalice to your mouth. His gaze never waves from your lips as they part to welcome the bittersweet raspberry. The wine pools like blood on your tongue. It tastes like guilt going down.

Dusk falls over the city like a wounded swan. The velvet darkness outside your window makes shadows of everything it touches, only partially diminished by blinking stars and waning silver moonlight. The crescent shape of the bright white orb would fit just perfectly beneath Marcus’ jaw, you think to yourself. 

The thought alone sends a warm, melancholic feeling down your spine — with such an intensity only the tenderness of twilight could elicit.

You slide from the crimson satin of your mattress with a tight chest. You migrate towards the entrance — bare feet padding faintly along the floor, thin cotton nightgown trailing behind you. You stand before your bedroom door and rap your knuckles rhythmically against the wood. 

Twice, once, three times. 

And then you wait.

“It’s me,” you hear Marcus murmur from the other side.

Your heart swells like sunshine in your throat. You smile wide despite yourself, with no one else around to see it. “It’s been Romulus for nearly a fortnight,” you tell him, panting slightly from where you’d held your breath in anticipation. “I was starting to think you’d been banished from your post here forever.”

“You know the Emperor likes to torture me,” he quips, though his usual monotone never wavers. 

It might’ve been easier on you both, if Geta had shipped him off to lead another meaningless campaign. At least then Marcus could miss you from leagues away. Instead, he has to guard your bedroom door and miss you from the other side of it. Torture is an understatement.

“Well, I quite like it when you’re here,” you confess quietly, tracing shapes onto the doorframe with an absentminded hand. “Makes me feel safe.”

You wait patiently for a response.

“Good,” is all the General can think to reply.

Your face pinches with concern. Your chest does, too. “Are you angry with me?”

“Why should I be angry with you?”

“I don’t know… Our conversations together have grown so short— I worry you do not wish to speak with me at all.”

Though you cannot see him, Marcus flinches at your words. He stands like a statue outside your door, in the middle of the dim corridor, and glares over his shoulder into nothingness. “It isn’t true,”  he insists, voice low but honeyed still. “I wish to speak with you always.”

“Then why do you not?”

“Because it isn’t safe,” he repeats, though you never seem to hear him.

“Will it ever be?”

Marcus goes silent as he ponders for a moment. Quiet engulfs the bedroom all over again, filled only by crackling candles. “No,” he answers after a few long moments. “Not for a long while.”

You feel like he’s stabbed you with a freshly sharpened blade, right between your ribcage and into your bleeding heart. It would hurt less, anyway.  “Why?” you wonder aloud in a pained whimper, knowing the answer will do nothing more than twist the knife.

The answer sits ready on Marcus’ tongue, as though the question of why has plagued him long before you asked it.

“Because I… I ruined you. By bringing you here.”

“You saved me,” you correct.

“I destroyed you,” he retorts, voice heavy with choked-back emotion.

“I would be dead if it weren’t for you,” you remind him of the blatant reality, which threatens to consume you every time you see his face. You wish you were holding it now, cradling Marcus’ bearded cheeks in your supple palms, so that he might understand the weight of your words. “I would’ve lost everything if you hadn’t taken me with you. I would’ve been tortured, probably killed. But now I get to—”

The word gets caught in your throat. You swallow hard and fake a smile at nothingness. The pretending comes naturally to you now.

“Now I get to live. Both of us do.”

There is a brief moment of knowing silence. This isn’t what living is supposed to feel like — fleeting touches in dark crypts and whispered conversations through bedroom doors. Both of you know it, but it’s a truth too brutal to admit out loud.

“Marcus?”

“Yes?”

“You know… We aren’t unspectacular things, Marcus,” you speak slowly and with a strangled intention. “We’ve already come so far. We’ve survived so much— We can survive a little more, can’t we? Until it’s safe again?”

“I don’t presume we have any other choice.”

“We don’t,” you sigh. “Because I love you.”

“I know,”  Marcus nods, with an air of surrender in his words. “Because I love you, too.”

You fall into the heavy wooden door as though it were your lover’s body. You did not need to see him to feel held by him. He hadn’t touched you, and he didn’t need to. His presence alone affects you in such a way that it feels like he has been caressing you for a long, long time.

Marcus’ heavy armor clunks faintly on the other side of the door as he stands up straighter. Emperor Geta enters his line of sight, a shadow slinking down the candlelight corridor. He clears his throat. “Your Majesty—” the General announces, for you and you alone.

He hears your feet pad against the floor as you scurry from the entrance.

“Dog,”the Emperor greets in a cynical deadpan. 

His sandals scuff the cobbles when he stands before the taller man. The torches hanging on the walls bathe Geta’s face in flickering amber hues, highlighting his tired features where the makeup had worn throughout the day. He seems weighed down by a certain kind of grief. The kind that makes Acacius feel ten feet tall.

“Have you been guarding my Empress like a good little hound?”

Marcus nods politely, though the term of endearment catches him momentarily off guard. To be the Emperor’s whore was one thing, but it was entirely another to be referred to in such high regard. The General tries to contemplate what that must mean as he answers, “Of course, Your Majesty.”

Geta grins despite his visible fatigue. “Good boy.”

You’re already back in bed by the time the door swings open. You lounge along the expensive satin sheets and pretend you’ve done nothing but wait obediently for the Emperor, while simultaneously swallowing down any remaining feelings of longing and heartache.

Geta enters the room like a rolling storm cloud. He wears all the chaos of the day in his mussed blonde curls, smudged makeup, and wrinkled garb — a palpable sort of disarray. You scramble on the mattress to greet him, like you often do, until he dismisses you with a wave of his hand.

“No. Don’t,” he commands. “Stay there. Don’t get up.”

You obey, freezing partially upright, with your elbows holding most of your weight. Your face swirls with concern at his look of annoyance. Your heart drops to your stomach in fear.

“Are you alright?” you ask him, though the Emperor pays you little mind as he migrates to the table by the window. 

He pours himself a chalice of wine. The glugging flagon fills the heavy silence. You swallow hard and stare timidly at the back of him. “Are you angry with me?” you repeat once more — a question that seems to accompany womanhood, especially when bound by the innate violence of man.

“I couldn’t be,” Geta answers like it’s obvious, sparing you a fleeting glance over his shoulder. He turns away to down the full goblet in three lengthy gulps, then wipes his stained mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s only my brother,” he confesses through labored breaths. 

Your worry lessens, but only slightly.

“Is he alright?”

“He’s acting like a child,” Geta spits, angered all over again, as he pours himself another cup. “More so than usual.”

“Has something happened?” 

“Nothing that should concern you.”

“Well, it’s certainly bothering you, Your Majesty,” you coo in slow and calculated measures as you rise from the many cushioned pillows. “So, forgive me, but it cannot help but concern me as well.”

Geta is unaccustomed to such tenderness. He tenses beneath it, glances hesitantly over his shoulder like he plans to find a ghost sitting in your place — as though he’d only heard the words in the wind and not from your mouth. A foreign feeling swirls again in his hollow chest, like a blizzard of snow or a flurry of rose petals.

“He’s jealous of me. Just as he always has been,” the Emperor tells you as he stalks toward the bed. He gestures mindlessly with his hands, and the wine sloshes over the rim of the gold chalice until it hits the stone floor. He raises it to his mouth, tips his head back, and down the bittersweet pomegranate.

His neck is long and milky white. His protruding adam’s apple bobs with each languid swallow. A drop of deep red trails from his mouth and down his chin once he’s finished. He rubs it away with a fist. You forget to stop staring.

“Lay down,” he commands, chest heaving. 

Your body obeys without a second thought. You lie back on the velvet cushions, docile and willing, in a way that comes naturally to you now. You’ve been Geta’s thing for so long that a part of you has grown used to it. Needy for it. 

The mattress dips beneath the Emperor’s wait as he kneels beside you. Your mind starts to reel. 

Your brain seemingly anticipates an inevitable pleasure, which comes to you like clockwork most nights. It makes your mouth water like a drooling hound that knows when it’s feeding time. A funny feeling stirs in the pit of your belly and pools like honey in your undergarments. Your thighs clench together when a subtle throbbing begins to pound between them.

You should be grateful when Geta crawls beneath the sheets only to rest his head on your chest.

You’re shocked, most of all, by such a foreign act of tenderness.

Your breath catches when his cheek presses to your breast. He nods gently to rub his burning skin over the smooth cotton. A deep exhale fans from his nose as he rests his body weight against you. 

You cradle him with hesitant hands and remind yourself to breathe. Your fingers scratch lightly over his clothed shoulder while your others comb through his strawberry-blonde locks. It’s a warmth so foreign to the two of you that it threatens to bring you both to tears.

“He says he wants someone like you— my brother,” Geta admits after a few moments of long silence.

“A whore?”

“A paramour,” the Emperor corrects, face twisted in irritation at your use of the term. He focuses on the muffled sound of your heartbeat when anger threatens to consume him. A heavy sigh deflates his chest. His anxious fingers twist in your nightgown. “I told him he could have his pick— Between us, we have plenty of women to go around, but… He insists his mind is stuck on you.”

Your bated breaths come to you in trembling inhale-exhales. You hope he doesn’t sense how frightful his words have made you. 

Geta is cruel, yes, but he is at most times predictable. Though Caracalla may be kind, he is most of all volatile. And there is nothing more dangerous than an erratic, easily excitable ruler.

“And what did you tell him?” you wonder with a feigned sense of curiosity.

“That you were mine, of course,” Geta blurts like it’s obvious. “He offered to share, to which I told him that he should be grateful that I’m sharing the throne alone with him… And now he’s off with his monkey, crying like a child…”

You feel strangely comforted by his words. You breathe a sigh of relief through your nose and rake your fingers through his blonde-brunette curls. “Your brother is a fragile thing, Your Majesty,” you advise in gentle murmurs. “You must be gentle with him.”

“I don’t know how to be gentle with anything,” Geta confesses, half-muffled into your chest. “Least of all, with someone like him.”

“Shall I speak with him? Perhaps I can calm him— make him understand?”

“It’s my burden alone.”

“It is mine as well, Your Majesty. So that mustn’t be true.”

Geta turns slowly to face you, with all the hesitance of someone unused to such kindness. His chin rests on your clothed sternum and bobs with each word. “You shouldn’t have to carry it,” he whispers into the honeyed silence of the candlelit bedroom.

You muster a small smile. “I know. But I will, anyway,” you shrug. “When you care for someone, your brain has little say in the matter.”

Geta falters at your admission. A foreign emotion swims in his chocolate button eyes. He’d rather blame it on the flickering flames strewn around the room. “Is that what this is?” he mutters, almost to himself, when he finds the breath to say the words.

Your fingers in his hair slow to a stop. “What do you mean, Your Majesty?”

“This… This tenderness,”  the Emperor answers, spitting the word like it’s the first time he’s ever tasted it. His face scrunches distantly, as if it were sour on his tongue. “Sometimes it overwhelms to the point of tears. It’s a… a blinding radiance, like… a knife— lodged somewhere deep in the body…”

You cup Geta’s freshly shaven face between two, gentle hands. He swears he sees the sun.

“Why do you speak of love like it hurts you, Your Majesty?”

He swallows hard. “Because it does,” he confesses before rising from your body. 

You mourn his warmth as he swings his legs over the side of the mattress. He sits with his back facing you. His dove white robe hangs off one pale shoulder when he bows his head.

“I never believed in it as a child— the permanence of it all, of… love. And yet, I… I find myself longing for it anyway. Like a fool.”

You rise on one elbow and resist the urge to touch him. “Wanting to be understood by someone doesn’t make you a fool, Your Majesty.”

“I know that I… That I haven’t been the most gentle with you at times. But I am… I am sorry for it,” Geta tells you in near inaudible murmurs, flashing you a sheepish glance over his freckled shoulder. “I understand it must be difficult for you.”

“What, Your Majesty?”

“To be caught between all that was. And all that must be.”

Your stomach wrenches at his words. Your chest tightens beneath the weight of them until you have to fight for every wavering breath. You take a trembling inhale and rise so you’re sitting at his side, taking careful calculation in the following words you speak.

“We cannot… We cannot choose who we love, Your Majesty. We can fight ceaselessly against it, perhaps, but it doesn’t change fate.” 

You reach out for him with one tremoring hand. You rake a rogue curl behind his ear and hope he doesn’t know Marcus’ face is the one stained permanently behind your eyelids. 

“We love who we love, Your Majesty. And the rest stay ghosts.”

Geta’s eyes glitter with an emotion you’ve not seen from him before. His dark eyes flit between both of yours, as though searching for something in your gaze — sincerity, perhaps, or maybe an equal sense of longing. 

You blink, and his mouth is on yours. Geta kisses you back onto the velvet-satin and settles over you once more. It’s wet. Hungry. Unforgiving.

You kiss him back with a similar intensity, clutching his robe in both hands, desperate to understand him.

Marcus remains on the other side of your door — an invisible ghost, an unwilling witness. He hears all of it, as clearly as he would if he were seeing it with his own eyes. A hollow feeling of yearning and hunger gnaws at the pit of his stomach as he tries to imagine your pleasured form. The painting behind his eyelids is blurred and distorted with time.

He wishes he could see you now, even with Emperor Geta fucking you into the mattress.  He could pretend that he was the one fucking you, at least, and let the image alone bring his withered form back to life. 

You’re together in his head, entwined still, with your mouths bruised in a relentless kiss.

Marcus hopes you’re still together in yours, too.

General Acacius spends most of his nights in the crypt, which he feels is rather fitting for a half-dead thing like him. When he is not surveilling your bedroom door, or being otherwise taunted by Emperor Geta, he finds a strange sanctuary in the dreary tombs. It is perhaps the only place where he is left alone. 

Caracalla is petrified by thoughts of ghosts, and Geta detests history, so neither is likely to show their face in such an ancient mausoleum. Which is ideal for someone plotting an insurrection.

You find him there in the wee small hours of the late, late night. He wears a deep red cloak over his white robe, perhaps to conceal himself, as he shuffles around the room to snuff out flickering candles. You wonder who he lit them for because you know he does not need them. He’s grown too used to navigating in the shadows.

Your sandals scuff suddenly against the damp cobbles. Marcus does not seem startled by the intrusion. He knew you were there by the sweet scent of your perfumed body alone. There is nothing about you he would not immediately notice.

“What are you doing here?” he wonders with his back facing you, voice low with a timbre that bounces off the tomb walls.

“I wanted to see you,” you answer sheepishly.

Marcus says nothing in response.

You wring your hands into knots and shift your weight on your feet. He extinguishes the torch on the far wall, and shadows engulf the windowless crypt — save for one lone candle flickering atop Emperor Commodus’ cracking tomb. Your eyes flit from the flame to Marcus’ silhouette, gaze swimming with uncertainty.

“May I ask you a question?”

“I don’t see why not,” he monotones and flits across the room like a ghost.

“What do you do down here?” you ask. When your voice inevitably trembles with distant alarm, you quip, “I only mean it mustn’t be healthy— Spending so much time in the dark.”

“It’s none of your concern,” Marcus insists with a venom that makes you flinch. He hooks his pointer finger around the hook of the candle holder, and the dancing flame paints his statuesque features in shades of amber. He softens immediately at the sight of you.

“I just do not wish to incriminate you,” the wartorn man confesses.

Your chest aches with an immediate concern. “What does that mean? Please do not tell me that you’re doing something perilous—”

“No,” Marcus interjects firmly, then amends. “Not yet, at least.”

“Explain it to me, then. Help me understand.”

“It’s best you do not know, petal. It’s safer that way.”

The word alone makes you cross. You wish he’d stop using it.

“But I will tell you when the time is right, I swear,” he assures you, though his voice threatens to tremble with wavering strength. His dark eyes flit between both of yours, heavy with an emotion you cannot place. “I will keep you safe no matter what, you know that—”

“It’s not me I’m worried about, Acacius,” you murmur with a stern glint in your eye, clutching the downy fabric of his robe in your fists.

“There is naught to worry about, petal. I assure you.”

Marcus takes a step closer to you despite the voice of reason in his head telling him otherwise. He lifts his free hand and swipes a callused palm over your cheek, soft and warm with sleep. You lean into his touch like a cat. A funny feeling blossoms in his chest.

“I’ve been thinking… About what you said some days ago… Making a new world for ourselves…” He talks slowly and deeply and nearly to himself. You nod against his palm to egg him onward. “You were right. We deserve better than this— Why should we have to live like dogs?”

Marcus swipes his thumb over your jaw and takes another daring step closer. You feel the heat from the candle he holds in his free hand, though your eyes remain on his face. You couldn’t look away from him if you tried. A part of you is hesitant to blink even, for fear that you might miss him for a millisecond too long.

He angles your gently head upward with his weathered palm. You can smell the musk on his tanned skin from here, as well as the ale and mint leaves on his breath. It’s dizzying. The ground seems to sway under your feet at the dwindling proximity between you.

“We love each other, don’t we?” he murmurs in a honeyed voice.

You nod without a second thought. Your mouth waters with the hopes of tasting him.

He nods with you. “So fuck the war.”

Marcus ducks down to press his mouth to yours. His lips swallow your own in a kiss, lingering and languid and deep enough to drown in. 

You melt into his touch with a heavy sigh exhaled through your nose. The warm breath fans across his unshaven cupid’s bow while your hands migrate to his hair. You twist the greying tendrils in your fingers, keeping him impossibly close against you. 

When Marcus goes to grip the fabric of your nightgown in both his hands, the candle holder tumbles to the ground. The gold clatters audibly across the cobbles. The wax light falls on his side, and the flame begins to dwindle on the murky stone floor. 

You wonder, briefly, if it will take fire — if the smoke will give you away, or if the tomb and all its history will burst into flames, or if the inferno will take you and Marcus with it.

Though it snuffs quickly out, bathing the two of you in a navy blue darkness, you figure you wouldn’t care if it did burn you to ash. Not as long as Marcus was there to kiss you into embers.

Marcus’ face consumes your dreams. 

The details are blurred with the haze of sleep, but he was there — touching your face, asking to try again. You merged into one another like ghosts. Like drops of melted honey. Like lovers of Pompeii turned to ash. Every day, you tell yourself that it is unsafe to love him more than you do now. And yet he haunts your dreams, and yet you find more love in you for him.

And yet…

A violent hand pulls you from your gentle slumber. It jerks mercilessly at your arm, snatching you from your peaceful dreams and waking you into a nightmare.

“Wake up!” a strident and familiar voice bellows into the quiet bedroom, lit only by the faint blue of an early morning. The words are punctuated by another rough tug at your wrist. You awake to the sharp aching in your fingers.

“Wha—” you slur, trying to blink away the bleary mist as you lift your heavy head from the pillows. “What’s going on? What’s happened?”

“Up!”

You’re urged from the mattress by the unforgiving fingers digging bruises on your arm. You squint through the sleep and ebbing darkness to find Geta looming over you — blonde curls mussed on his head, swollen eyes wide and wild, velvet robe askew on his shoulder to reveal his pale chest. His skin there is flushed red with anger. You don’t know what you did to deserve his wrath.

“Geta?” you gasp through a faint whimper in your throat, trying to pull your wrist from his grip. He only holds you tighter. “What are you doing— You’re hurting me.”

“Liar!” is all he shouts in response, like he doesn’t even hear you.

The crazed Emperor drags you out of bed just to drop you to the cobbles. The thin sleeves of your nightgown slip off your shoulder; the skirt of it bunches at your thighs. You make yourself as small as possible as you shrink away from the man towering above you. 

“I don’t understand,” you squeak through the heart in your throat.

“Liar!” he shouts again.

His voice rings through the shadowed bedroom. You cower in response. He sobers at the fear twisting your features, but only slightly. His heart pounds hard against his ribcage, beating red-hot rage through his veins. He can hardly hear you through the rushing in his ears.

“What have I done?” you whisper, voice trembling.

“You have made…” Geta trails off, swallowing the emotion threatening to strangle him. He blinks away burning tears and spits, “A mockery of me.”

Fear ebbs into confusion. “I have not—”

“You lie!”

“I do not!” The volume of your voice startles even you. You blink up at him with wide, pleading eyes, searching for any ounce of mercy within him. 

You find none. 

Just a man made of towering orange flames, threatening to set you ablaze. 

“I have given up everything to be here,” you whimper. “To be at your side. To understand you—” 

“Make no mistake… Your lies no longer have an effect on me, little dove,” Geta interjects through a bout of cynical laughter. He shakes his head and grins despite the tears glittering in his eyes. “You think you are so clever. That you were brought here, to my Empire, to be cherished...”

The Emperor takes slow, daunting steps towards you. You shrink away from him and choke back a sob bubbling in your throat. Tears fall from your lashes in fat droplets down your burning cheeks. 

Geta grins like it pleases him.

“Let me be clear, so there is no longer any misunderstanding…” he tells you, speaking in slow, deep murmurs as he crouches before you. You can see the flecks of gold glimmering in his deep brown eyes from here. You can see the fire swimming within them, too, as he assures you, “You were created merely for me to destroy you.”

The throne room is absent of its usual bright red roses and ornate gold decoration. The chandelier overhead has not yet been lit. Instead, the spacious room is illuminated by an ever-rising sun — which basks everything it touches in shades of melancholy blue. 

The servants light torches along the wall while you and Marcus stand together before the scowling Emperor. Something about it strikes a feeling of nostalgia in your chest, though these circumstances are much different than the ones you were brought here under. Geta no longer looks at you with lust in his dark eyes. He looks at you, instead, with betrayal.

“Thanks to the civic virtue of some good men…” the eldest Emperor quavers into the silent room. “…Your insurrection has been revealed.” 

Your stomach twists at his words. Your mouth falls softly agape with shock. Of any explanation you could’ve been given upon your sudden imprisonment, you couldn’t have expected this one. You thought, perhaps, that he had somehow found out about your meetings in the crypt with Marcus. You would’ve been able to stomach that, at least. Your love for Acacius is something you’d be willing to die by.

But not this.

Not something you were completely unconscious of.

Geta continues tearily. “The honor… The dignitas that Rome has bestowed upon you— All this, you have forfeited by your treachery.”

“Emperor Geta, please,” Marcus sighs. His deep voice echoes through the empty throne room like a heavenly, sorrowful instrument. He bows his head and swallows hard, knowing now that he must beg for mercy. Not for himself. But for you. 

“Torture me, if you wish, but let her go. She had no part in this—”

“Forgive me,” Geta spits emotionlessly. “But I have no cause to believe you, General.”

Marcus turns to you then, tired eyes wide and pleading. “Tell him. Go on, it’s alright,” he urges gently, though your silence makes his chest ache. “Petal, tell him— Tell him you were unaware.”

You say nothing.

“Tell him!”he repeats in a shout that rings through the quiet throne room. His trained apathy splinters for the first time in front of Geta. He is perhaps more fearful now than he has ever been before. No war was nearly as frightening as the thought of losing you.

“What does it matter?” you mutter in response, voice fragile like glass. “He made up his mind the moment he found out.”

“Then take me if that’s what you want,” Marcus says, pleads to the merciless Emperor. His sandals scuff the stone floor as he takes a step closer in surrender.  “Put me in the Colosseum— Crucify me on the royal steps, if you must— But please, do not make her suffer for something I brought upon her. Do not punish her for my sins.”

“You are the Great General Acacius…” Geta croons bitterly. “What could one more splash of blood possibly mean to you?”

“Everything,” Marcus answers without a second thought, voice heavy with a predestined grief. “It would mean everything.”

Something in Geta shifts. You see it flickering in his dark, teary eyes. A surge of power, almost, like a stroke of bright white lightning. The corner of his pink mouth twitches as he tilts his chin upward. “Step back ten paces,” he commands suddenly.

Marcus’ brows pinch first in confusion, then relax a moment later when he inevitably obeys. His feet sound along the cobbles as he takes ten slow steps backward. He mourns the distance it puts between the two of you.

“Turn around,” Geta’s voice echoes through the vacant throne room.

You hear Marcus take a wavering breath in. He spins on the heel of his leather sandal until his back is facing you. His heavy eyes flutter shut as his chin falls to his chest. He searches for an ounce of hope within himself, knowing he’d lost all of it some time ago now.

The Emperor smirks. “Good dog.”

Acacius seethes.

Geta’s dark eyes, rimmed red with emotion, flit back to you. Something heavy settles in the pit of your stomach — dread, perhaps, or maybe acceptance for what’s surely to come. 

“Was it a lie?” 

“What?” you ask with bated breath.

Geta shrugs, then readjusts his robe when it falls from his shoulder. “Any of it.”

“No.”

“Tell the truth.”

“I am.”

Geta snarls at your subdued emotion. “I am the Emperor of Rome. I could have my pick of whores— You being here is a privilege. Do you understand?”

You nod once. “Yes.”

“You came from filth— to the greatest city in the world,” Geta spits the words like so many drops of venom. He waves his hands up and down your form, pale fingers now void of their usual gold rings. “You were just… some whore without a face before I made you better. I did this!” 

He gestures wildly around the darkened manor, voice breaking at the volume of his shouting. His robe falls askew to reveal more of his bare chest as spit coats his bitten lips. You remain in place while the Emperor inches closer. The fear has left you, as well as any instinct to cry — your grief is too violent for that now.

“I brought you here,” Geta convinces himself. His saliva splatters on your cheek in faint droplets. Tears glitter on his cheeks like stained glass windows. A fire flickers in the deep brown of his eyes. 

“I willed this— I cared for you with every bit of conscience as I was born with.” He takes a deep breath and steps back, shaking his head in disgust. “And yet…”

He turns away. 

You’re able to take in a deep breath for the first time in several minutes when he parts from you. The leadened weight on your chest remains.

“If you do not wish to be here, I certainly will not make you,” Geta rambles in teary blubbers. “One whore is as good as any other— Perhaps I can find one who is capable of pretending she cares.”

You step towards his retreating form. “Geta—”

“Go!” he shouts, looking back at you with a crazed look in his sleep-worn eyes. He wipes spit from his chin and quietens, strangled by an unavoidable emotion. “Now. Walk through those doors, and I promise no harm will come to you. Just do not stand before me and patronize me in this way, I will not stand for it.”

His promise makes your chest swell with hope. You remain frozen even still, stuck at an unnavigable crossroads. Such assurances of safety mean little to you when Marcus

has a sword to his throat. 

You look at the man over your shoulder. He has not moved from his spot some feet behind you. His back still faces you, though you notice his hands are balled into trembling fists.

Even if it were true — even if Geta really planned to let you go without a knight slitting your throat — it would mean little without Marcus. You would not know where to go without him. You would not be able to live with yourself if you left him here, not knowing what Geta planned for him. You would be away from the city, yes, but it would not be freedom.

Your instinctual will for survival is replaced by the primal need to keep Marcus alive.

To do that, you must reach for the bloodied hand of death.

You turn away from your lover — away from the opened cage door and the promise of freedom — and rush to the heartbroken Emperor. You clutch his cotton robe in your fists and tug at the gold trim to pull him closer. You meet him in the middle, entwining your mouth with his.

You kiss him. Hard. With enough ardor to snatch the breath from his lungs. His pink lips part for yours, almost instinctually so, and you swipe your tongue over the rough pad of his own. He tastes of sleep and honey and very distantly of wine. He gets heavy against you as he falls into your kiss. His hands cling to the skirt of your nightgown until his fists start to shake.

You pull away only when he’s melted for you all over again, when the red-hot anger has ebbed from his milky white body. A thin string of saliva keeps you connected until it splits against your chins.

“I know… I know you are hurt, Your Majesty,” you speak in slow murmurs, and through uneven breaths. Your fearful eyes dart over his face and find him utterly kissbitten — mouth swollen, eyes heavy, cheeks flushed. “And I know that it is difficult to forget pain. But I’ve found it’s harder to remember happiness. Glory.”

Each word from your mouth is stamped with intention. 

You speak of glory only with the hopes that he might remember his many useless wars, all of which Marcus has won for him without complaint. There would be no Empire to rule without the Great General Acacius, who dares not to sneak a glance at the two of you over his shoulder. He, instead, keeps his heavied gaze on the torch hanging by the door. The flame sears his vision until he can see you dancing within it.

“We have no scar to show from sweetness, do we?” you quaver with a forced smile, cupping Geta’s burning cheeks between both your hands. You swipe your thumb over a fat tear clinging to his cheekbone. “How can we allow ourselves to be blinded by anger when there is still so much love?” 

Geta snivels and rests his forehead against yours. His long lashes flutter against his glowing cheeks.

“I wept for you,” the Emperor confesses quietly, words weighed down by tears. “I had come to believe that… If I wanted something badly enough, the sheer strength of my desire would make it mine. I see now that it was foolish—”

“Perhaps it is true,” you whisper to him, breaths entwining and kissing both your cheeks. If he notices your voice shaking, you hope he confuses it with desire and not with fear. “Perhaps that is why I’m standing here now. Because I am yours…”

A moment of silence lulls over the blue hour. The quiet feels deafening in the large throne room, quelled only by the sound of heavy breathing. Yours hitches in your throat when Geta parts wordlessly from you. He sniffles once, then exhales hard through his mouth. 

Your gaze remains fixed on his face in an unwavering stare as you try to gauge his reaction. His features are emotionless, but his heavy-lidded eyes flit back and forth between yours — as though he, too, were trying to measure your sincerity. 

Your fate, in that split second, teeters on a knife’s edge. You hold your breath and wait for him to raise his hand. Not to hit you, maybe, but to sic his guards upon you like dogs — either to drag you into a cell or to be kind enough to kill you on the spot.

Geta lifts his palms only to cradle your jaw between them. His long fingers wrap around your neck like he intends to choke you there. He drags your mouth back to his instead. Your noses smush together with the intensity of his touch. It’s all teeth and tongue and spit. Desire and anger and grief. A billion things he licks into your mouth.

The weight of his hunger smothers you. Consumes you. He could kill you this way, if he wanted. There is little difference, you’ve found, between a bite and a kiss. It only matters how deep he buries his teeth into you.

Your chin shines with his spit when he parts from you. Geta’s chest heaves with labored breaths, flushed and swelling with proud. He hasn’t yet let go of your neck. You wonder if he can feel your thrumming pulse against his fingers.

“Show me, then,” he pants. “That you’re mine… Prove it to me.”

The Emperor goes to step back from you. Your hands dart for his wrists, holding him there when he threatens to pull them away. Geta’s eyes widen in shock.

“Don’t make him watch,” you plead in a delicate whisper.

His wide, chocolate eyes flit over your shoulder. He seems to forget about Marcus’ presence until that very moment. He looks back to you, at the plea swimming in your eyes, and nods once in response. 

“Take him,” he calls to the knights lurking in the darkness.

Their heavy armor clinks together as they comply without complaint. They lead Marcus to the door with their hands on the hilts of their swords. You watch him leave from over your shoulder, in the very corner of your eye. You hope he understands, but you wouldn’t blame him if you didn’t. You find it hard to forgive yourself even now.

Marcus always said that people find out who they truly are during times of war. Maybe this is who you are. Maybe you cannot kiss the devil without taking some of his sin.

The door closes with a heavy thud across the room. 

The weight of being alone with the Emperor washes heavily over you. Like drops of ice-cold rain. Like warm, melted honey.

Geta peers at you with a similar uncertainty. Head bowed slightly, wide eyes glittering from beneath his lashes. You do what you have always done — take care of this man the way he’s asked you to, placate his anger with your body. Giving yourself away is as natural as breathing most days.

“Sit down, Your Majesty,” you urge in a gentle whisper.

The Emperor listens as obediently as his knights. 

The sound of his sandals padding along the cobbles fills the suffocating quiet. He descends upon his throne like he was made for it, spreading his legs before him and propping his arms along the golden rests. He looks like a painting upon his seat of power, bathed in the deep blue of an early morning. An angel dragged to hell.

Geta watches you with an unwavering stare as you take slow steps toward him. His brown-eyed gaze goes glassy at the sight of you, an angelic thing all dressed in white. His thighs part to welcome you between them. He tenses under your palms when they smooth over his milky white chest, past the sparse chestnut hair littered there and down to the tie of his robe.

His stomach rises and falls in heavy, uneven pants under your touch. You unknot the string with bated breath, then brush the golden trimming to his sides. He’s bare underneath it, likely from where he’d been brutally roused from his slumber. His cock is on immediate display — resting on his fuzzy thighs, half-hard and glowing red at the tip.

You descend to your knees to take care of him on instinct. His hands dart to your shoulders to stop you. “Ride me,” he commands, though it sounds more like a plea as it spills his swollen mouth.

Wordlessly, you straddle his thighs. The cotton fabric of your nightgown bunches at your hips. You spit into your palm and reach between your bodies for his cock in a single practiced motion. He feels like velvet in your fist. 

Geta’s nostrils flare with a heavy exhale when your hand drags up the length of his cock. His head tips back onto his throne when your fist falls back down again. Your lips find the expanse of his long, white neck like a deep-seated compulsion. You kiss his pulse as though it were his mouth. He cradles the crown of your head and brings his lips to your ear.

“You love me,” he sighs within a moan when your thumb brushes the head of his drooling cock.

You can’t tell if it’s a command to repeat the words back to him, or an affirmation he repeats only for himself. Either way, you nod in response and line his stiff cock at your entrance. Geta’s mouth parts in a silent moan at the feeling of your silky cunt. 

“I do,” you whisper just before you mount him. 

There is a dull ache in your belly when he pierces you, though you’ve grown accustomed to his length with time. Your satin folds split to welcome every inch of him accordingly. Your hips rock back and forth over his supple thighs and your velvety walls pulse around him, swallowing him further inside.

Your breathy moans entwine and fill the air. You keep a white-knuckled grip on the back of the golden throne as you ride him, without break and without mercy — in spite of the burning sensation in your thighs. You tell yourself it’s to finish him quickly, though a primal part of you chases after your own pleasure.

Geta’s breaths leave his parted mouth in huffed exhales as you bounce on top of him. He mourns the sight of him disappearing in and out of your glistening pussy but fights to keep his eyes open to watch the rest of you. Your fucked-out face swirls in a mixture of concentration and pleasure as Geta lifts his hand for the collar of your gown.

He unties the dainty knot at your sternum and tugs the fabric down your chest, baring your breasts for him. His mouth waters at sight of your plush skin, moving in time with your rhythmic grinds over his lap. 

A strangled moan sounds in your throat when he takes your left nipple in his mouth. You caress the back of his head, twisting your fingers in his honey hair in an effort to keep him close. He runs the rough pad of his tongue over your sensitive tit and smiles when he hears you whimpering. 

“You love this,” he mutters against your chest. “You love when I fuck you. ”

You nod until the words catch up with you. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“God—” he grunts through gritted teeth, tipping his head back when one particular grind makes him twitch inside you. His hands grip your thighs over your skirt. His fingers threaten to sear bruises onto your skin. “Your pussy was made for my cock, wasn’t it?”

You nod again.

His right hand parts from you only to come down a moment later. The dull smack of his palm against your clothed hip echoes through the throne room. “I don’t think I heard you.”

“Yes,” you squeak with your face scrunched, trembling when your clit drags across the thatch of pubic hair at the base of Geta’s cock.

“Who’s cunt is this?”

“Yours—”

His hand lifts again. You hear the impact of his palm against your ass before you feel it, a subtle stinging you find a strange comfort in. Geta laughs in maniacal, breathy chuckles when you keen for him. 

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yours!” you exclaim in a feeble gasp, clutching the Emperor to your chest. You shudder on top of him when an orgasm rakes suddenly through your body. It flows quickly and without mercy, but never quite ebbs. You’re left a whimpering, weeping mess while the aftershocks of your pleasure consume you. 

“It’s yours,” you squeak in nearly inaudible blubbers, pressing your kissed mouth to the shell of Geta’s ear, repeating the phrase like it’s the only one you remember. “’S your pussy… It’s yours…”

The words alone are enough to make Geta burst inside of you. 

He tenses all over. His dull nails press crescent shapes into the skin of your thighs. His rosy mouth parts to exhale a guttural moan. You feel his cock jerk with your drooling confines right before he spits several loads of cum inside you. Your cunt pulses around him, instinctually milking him for every drop of liquid pleasure, and a whimper sounds in Geta’s throat.

You feel it bloom in the pit of your belly like a flower — something soft and warm and seeping. As the two of you relax against one another with wavering exhales, you feel his cum leaking out of you like drops of summer rain. It pools on his lap and drips down to the throne underneath him, tainting the gold with a mixture of your sin.

It proves a point. Marks a territory.

Geta swells with pride.

Your back slouches as you melt into his body. You hide your burning face in his neck as his feverish grip on you loosens. Geta twitches beneath you when your cunt pulsates around his softening cock. “Mm…” you hear him hum, mixed with a laugh you feel rumbling in his chest. His head tilts back as a lopsided smile tugs deliriously at his mouth.

He runs a gentle hand up and down your spine, a reminder of his being there despite your feeble efforts to dissociate your brain from your body. You can’t ignore the warmth of his touch on your tingling skin, or the way your hearts press together and beat to the same rhythm.

A distant feeling of acceptance pools in the pit of your belly along with the Emperor’s cum. Your grief is a much more discreet thing, however, and you miss Marcus like an unstitched wound that won’t stop bleeding. Like a knife lodged somewhere deep in the body.

“I think… I think I’ve found an adequate punishment for the General,” Geta pants, the crooked grin audible in his words. “Perhaps he will learn his lesson when I’ve fucked a child into you—”

You tense when the Emperor’s palm splays over your stomach.

“—Perhaps then he’ll understand that you’re mine.”

[ssweetleaf]

quiet.

eric (a quiet place) x fem!reader

summary: trying to keep quiet while eric fucks you.

includes: SMUT 18+, unprotected p in v

divider credit goes to @cafekitsune <3

A strong hand was clamped tightly over your mouth, fingertips pressing almost uncomfortably into the fat of your cheek whilst your chest heaved— the palm in question belonging to Eric, stern to keep you quiet, however the erratic rutting of his hips never faltered.

His pupils were blown out, his doe eyes seemingly black, nostrils flaring and teeth clenched to keep his own noises at bay— lashes occasionally fluttering to his cheeks when he squeezed his eyes shut.

You just felt too good. He wanted to scream, to groan into the stuffy, silent air and revel in your perfect cunt and how tightly it squeezed around him, milking him with your arousal, a thick ring of cream wrapped around the base of his cock, a clear indication of how good he fucked you.

Eric’s brows drew tightly together, furrowing at the constant clenching of your gummy walls, thanking Christ for the blanket he’d found to drape over the two of you, aiding in muffling the wet ‘schlicking’ of his cock with every inward thrust, and the sharp slapping of his balls against your ass.

“So good,” he mouthed, no hint of his voice in the air, keeping his promise of being quiet, just the subtle movement of his lips, teeth biting into the pudge of his bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood to the surface.

He squeezed at your cheeks momentarily, urging you to look at him, to watch his mouth, his lips, with his faux speech.

“Such a good girl.”

[radioactiveparker]

A Proposition To Make Amends - Steddie X Fem!Reader (Smut)

Summary - Your boyfriend Steve does whatever it takes for you to get along with his best friend.

Warnings - Strong Language / Use of Y/N / Alcohol / Mentions of Drunk Driving / Threesome / Rough / Unprotected Sex / Spanking / Dry Humping / Riding / Daddy Kink / Praise Kink / Spitting / Choking / Oral (M & F Receiving) / Spit Roasting / Multiple Orgasms / Multiple Creampies / Cum Play / Cum Eating / Subspace

Word Count - 5.6k

A/N - Inspired by that one audio I was never able to find again :'(

~~~~~

You hid your fatigue behind a big cheesy smile as you and Steve bid the last of your guests goodbye and good night, waving at them from the front door of your home as they drove off down the road. The second the door shut, you relaxed your sore cheeks with a liberated sigh. Steve chuckled, pulling you in for a much needed hug. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in as close as he could. You pressed your lips to his out of habit.

Despite the many years that you and Steve had been together, you still got butterflies every time you kissed. It was like there was a button on your lips that only Steve could activate that shot a rush of adrenaline through your body. It was only meant to be a quick peck on the lips, but you couldn't seem to pull away. Your lips melded together like fluffy marshmallows in a freshly brewed hot chocolate. His tongue was warm sugar, sweet and addicting, making your eyes roll back under closed lids. You moaned gently into his mouth, clasping your hands behind his neck and playing with his soft hair. It was his turn to moan when you gave it a gentle tug, feeling his half hard on beginning to grow against your hip.

"Am I interrupting something?"

The two of you pulled back abruptly. Eddie stood before you, trying to take another sip of his beer through a smirk. In all honesty, you thought that Eddie had left already, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking. You were ready to kick him out so that you and Steve could continue where you had left off.

"Yes, you are." You snapped bitterly.

"You leaving?" Steve asked, clasping his hand in Eddie's and giving him a side hug.

"Yeah, the boys want to get band practice in early tomorrow."

"Good luck with it, man." Steve patted him on the back and opened the door for him. He froze when he noticed Eddie's van in the driveway. "Wait, you're not driving, are you?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Dude, you've been drinking."

"Only like three beers." Eddie brushed him off, using a strong arm to push his empty beer bottle into Steve's hand. "I'll be fine it's like a ten minute drive."

"No way, man. I'm not having you driving under the influence. Why don't you just stay the night?"

You diverted your gaze from Eddie's arms, suddenly catching yourself staring at his muscles in his tank top. "Or he could just call a cab?" You chimed in. The last thing you wanted right now was Eddie here. Especially when Steve had got you all hot and bothered.

"He's got no chance of getting a cab this late. C'mon babe, it's just one night."

But it wasn't just one night. You couldn't seem to get rid of Eddie lately. He was always hanging out at your place or asking Steve to go down to the Hideout to watch his band play (which he would always drag you along to despite your protests) or calling him up to talk for hours. You knew they were best friends, but you didn't even see your girl-friends that much. If it was anyone else, you probably wouldn't have minded. But Eddie annoyed you to no end. He was always loud and such a slob, always talking about the girls he's hooked up with and the music that nobody but him liked. You honestly didn't know how Steve could stand the guy.

"But Steve..." You tried to tell him through your eyes the words you couldn't say out loud. Not with Eddie there.

I want you to dick me down until I can't walk.

"Please babe," he clearly didn't get the message, "for me?"

He could be so oblivious when he wanted to be.

You rolled your eyes with a reluctant sigh, not being able to resist his big brown puppy dog eyes. "Fine, but he's taking the couch."

He shut the door and grabbed your face to force you into an appreciative kiss that went straight to your core. You loved it when he got rough.

"No man, really, it's fine." Eddie tried to persuade. "I can drive."

The truth was, Eddie didn't like you either. He had been friends with Steve first, but then you came along and ruined what they had going. Suddenly Steve was too busy to go to Hellfire night, he couldn't watch his band practice. Heck, he couldn't even make the time to go get ice cream together. And you were far too clingy. Every time he invited just Steve to the hideout, you were always there with him to ruin Eddie's mood. And always wearing those skimpy little outfits that left nothing to the imagination.

Not that he was imagining you.

"No, Eddie, you heard the lady, you're staying." Steve guided Eddie back into the house.

He turned to you, trying not to smile at how cute you looked when you were annoyed and pressed a loving kiss to your lips in an attempt to subdue it. "Why don't you go get changed while me and Eddie clear this mess up."

You agreed, only if it meant that you got another kiss from him. He chuckled against your lips before giving your ass a playful smack when you turned and headed for the bedroom.

"Is that why you wanted me to stay? So I could help you clean up?" Eddie teased walking through your open plan living room and into the kitchen to grab a garbage bag.

Steve held his hands up in defence. "You got me, man."

They shared a laugh before beginning to clean. You and Steve had planned a little get-together for all of your friends. You found it so hard nowadays to all be together like you used to, so everyone managed to free up a weekend and spend it together. Even the kids had managed to come down from college to see you. It was one of the best nights you had had in a while, catching up, eating pizza, drinking beer, and watching movies. It had felt like nothing had changed.

You managed to reminisce about the night as you swapped your party clothes for your pyjamas. With the summer heat easing its way in, it was difficult to wear anything more than a pair of shorts and a tank top. You even had to ditch the bra because the heat was making you itch.

You grabbed your used clothes and made your way downstairs to put them in the laundry room, deciding to do the washing tomorrow. With an overheated sigh, you headed for the kitchen to find some way to cool off. You passed the boys on the way as they carefully deconstructed the beer bottle tower Dustin and Lucas had so proudly made.

Eddie watched you from the living room as you made your way to the fridge wearing the sluttiest pyjamas he had ever seen. The shorts barely covered your backside and the top was so tight that he could see your nipples through it when you opened the fridge.

You visibly relaxed from the coolness emanating from it, practically moaning in relief.

"You alright over there, babe?" Steve laughed, putting the final beer bottle in the bag.

"Yeah, you boys want a drink to cool down?"

With a small chorus of agreements, you grabbed three bottles from the back of the fridge, pressing one of them against your forehead as you walked into the living room. You placed the other two on the coffee table in front of Eddie and Steve. They sat on opposite ends of the couch, Steve with his feet kicked up on the table and Eddie with his muscular arms spread over the headrest, giving you no choice but to sit between them. You did not want to sit near Eddie.

Reluctantly you took the single seat on the side closest to Steve, curling your feet up and twisting the cap off your drink.

"Do we smell bad or something? What are you doing all the way over there, babe?" Steve joked, patting the spot on the sofa beside him.

You kept your eyes on the TV, not being able to look him in the eye when you lied to him. "No, it's just too hot to all be crowed on one sofa."

"Now I know from experience that it's never to hot for a cuddle."

You wanted to curse yourself for making up that stupid rule. Whether it was because of the hot weather, or a steamy bath, you always cuddled Steve. You didn't care that you were sticky and sweating, you just loved the feeling of Steve's arms wrapped around you.

"I'm sure Eddie won't mind. Right, Eddie?"

"Actually I wouldn't mind if she stayed over there." Eddie disregarded, taking a long swig of his beer.

He watched as you did the same. A droplet from your bottle splashed onto the soft flesh of your collar bone. He couldn't help but stare as it rolled steadily and slipped in between the valley of your breasts.

Steve stood from his seat on the couch, switched the TV off and stood in front of it so that he was the centre of attention. "Alright, what is up with you guys?"

You and Eddie stared at him blankly as he looked between the two of you, waiting expectantly for an answer.

"What do you mean?" Eddie asked dumbly. You had to fight against rolling your eyes at how obvious his tone was.

"Why are you guys so tense around each other all the time? Don't think I don't see the way you roll your eyes at each other, or the petty little argument you're always having. Why do you guys hate each other so much, huh?"

You sighed, sitting up straight and placing your beer on the coffee table. "It's not that I hate him, It's just that... it's like he's always there. And he's annoying."

"I'm not annoying." Eddie frowned, clearly offended.

"Yes you are, and you're such a slob. Every time you come over here I'm cleaning up after you."

Eddie scoffed in perplexity. He had literally just helped clean the living room for you. "Well, if I'm a slob, you're a slut."

"Excuse me?"

"Whoa man, that's too far."

"I mean, just look at her Steve. She's practically naked. She's always wearing skimpy fucking clothes. She's just begging for attention"

"Dude, you can't just hate someone because of what they wear-- don't you start laughing, Y/N."

"He's got no real reason to hate me." You snickered. "At least I said something."

"Can we just act like adults please?"

Eddie pouted. "I will if she will, but I wouldn't hold you're breath."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Alright, guys stop!" Steve raised his voice. He had never spoken to you that way. You hated that it kind of turned you on. "What is it going to take for you to get over whatever rivalry you two have got going on, huh? A rage room? Therapy? Do you need to bang one out or something?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa."

"Absolutely not, besides he's one to talk. Calling me a slut? He's the one that's forever boasting about his hook ups."

"Hey, I don't boast, okay? And my sex life had nothing to do with you."

Steve began laughing in disbelief. "I can't believe that that is what this is about?"

"What what is about?"

"That you two need to just fuck already." Steve expressed like the brightest lightbulb was blazing over his head. "All this fighting because you two are attracted to each other."

"I am not attracted to him." You gasped. "Do you think I'm cheating on you?"

"What? No, babe I'm not accusing you of that. I'm just saying that I understand if you're attracted to him."

"Yeah, I'm not attracted to you're girlfriend, dude." Eddie flushed.

"I wouldn't blame you, man. I mean, look at her, she's hot." It was your turn to flush. "So how are we gonna do this then?"

"Do what?"

"Have you two get it out of your systems."

"Dude, I'm not fucking your girlfriend."

"At least we finally agree on something." You laughed. Never in your life did you think you would be saying that.

"Look, baby," Steve sat on the coffee table and took your hands in his, making you look him in the eye. "Eddie's my best friend, and you're my best girl. I don't want to see you fighting all the time. Please, just for me, just this once."

Those god damn puppy dog eyes. You couldn't believe that you were actually considering this. You shifted uncomfortably to ease the throbbing between your legs. It had been a while since You and Steve had had sex, especially with Eddie being around all the time. Your dry spell was making you feel like a bitch in heat, so desperate to feel something. Anything. You blamed your horniness for clouding your judgement.

You sighed in defeat. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"You have my blessing." His smile turned to a smirk, his tone lowered to the rasp he always used in the bedroom. "Besides, it could be kinda hot."

There it was again. That burning desire deep within your core. The feeling hadn't really gone away. You almost always had a smouldering passion for him, but he managed to reignite it with a snap of his fingers. Steve couldn't help but smile at the fucked out look on your face; eyelids heavy with desperation and lips parted, just begging for something to slip between them.

"You see that Eddie? She wants to fuck you."

Eddie couldn't stop the feeling stirring within him. The look on your face and the way your nipples perked through your shirt had him squeezing his legs together like a fucking teenager. Try as he may, he couldn't deny that you were hot.

"I swear to God Steve, If this is a fucking prank--"

"It's not." You assured him, standing from your seat and making yourself comfortable on his lap.

You straddled him, resting your hands on his shoulders before calling Steve to sit beside him. Eddie stared at you in confusion when you pulled Steve in for a kiss, suddenly feeling like a third wheel. He felt like a perv watching your tongues swirl along one another and the way you would suck on Steve's like it was a cock. Just when he was about to call it quits, you slowly began rolling your hips. Eddie couldn't help but groan at the sweet relief, resting his head on the back of the sofa and enjoying the view. You moaned as Eddie grew harder beneath you, giving you more friction on your aching clit. You pulled away from Steve, putting your full attention into grinding on Eddie.

"Fuck, that feels good."

"You wanna take your shirt off, baby? Show him those perfect tits?"

You nodded drunkenly, raising your arms above your head so Steve could pull your top off. Eddie groaned almost instantly at the sight of them. He cupped one tenderly, feeling the flesh burning beneath his touch. He sat forward pressing harsh kisses along your neck and traveling down until he reached your breast. He sucked your pebbled nipple into his mouth, lapping it up and teasing it with his teeth. You gasped at the feeling, even more so when Steve mirrored his actions, first painting hickeys along your neck until he popped your other nipple in his hot mouth. You cupped the back of both their heads, guiding them with your movements as you continued to rock your hips against Eddie's.

"Shit, I'm gonna need you to fuck me." Eddie strained with a bruising grip on your hips.

"You hear how desperate you've got him, baby?"

You moaned against Steve's lips again as he kissed you. Eddie paused your grinding so he could slip off his boxers and pants. His weeping cock sprang free, the tip crying in relief. You ogled at it's perfection. It was a similar size to Steve's (that's to say huge), but with much more girth. You worried for a moment that Eddie could ruin Steve for you, but your mouth was just filling with saliva staring at it. You needed it inside of you.

"Wow, look at that, baby." Steve cooed in your ear, standing behind you and kissing your neck. "Is that what you wanted, huh? You want Eddie's fat cock deep inside your sweet little pussy?"

"God, yes." You breathed.

"You gonna take those shorts off then? Show Eddie your pretty little cunt."

You expertly took your shorts and panties off while still remaining in Eddies lap, having had lots of practice with Steve. With your pussy free from it's confinements, it was free to drool all over Eddies cock. You swiped your folds along his shaft, spreading your juices so you were ready to take him.

You twisted your neck to look at Steve. "Will you help me, daddy?"

His eyes rolled into his skull at the name. "Of course I can, baby. Ready?"

You lined the tip of Eddie's cock to your entrance, letting Steve guide your hips with his hands. He manoeuvred your hips downward, letting Eddie's cock ease into you. You gasped at the intrusion, finding yourself falling forwards. You grasped the head rest of the sofa, your face falling within kissing distance of Eddie's. You moaned and grunted into each others mouths, lips barely brushing and sharing breath as Steve continued to assist you onto Eddie's length. It took you a moment to adjust to his ridiculous size, Steve giving you a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

"C'mon baby, you've still got a few more inches left. Be a good girl and show Eddie how well you can take him."

You were already creaming all over him, your juices dripping down his length and pearling along his balls. Steve watched as your pussy struggled to swallow him whole, his cock just about ready to burst out of his jeans at the sound of your moans. He unbuttoned them and shoved them down to the top of his thighs, just enough to release his own throbbing cock.

"There we go." He spurred you on with gentle kisses to your shoulder as he fisted his own cock. "That's my good girl."

You whimpered at the praise, struggling to even clench around the thickness of Eddie's length. You gripped desperately at Eddie's top, tugging it over his head and pressing your chest against his to feel his hot skin on yours. You sucked gently along his neck, blindly reaching behind you to yank on Steve's shirt for him to do the same. He practically ripped it off himself before pressing his body against yours, sandwiching you between them. You sighed at his familiar warmth and the feeling of his hard cock on your back. Goose bumps prickled your skin as he danced his fingers down your sides until he reached your hips and then cupped the cheeks of your ass in his hands. He gave them a delicious squeeze before using them to guide you along Eddie's cock. Your hips lifted until just his tip was left dribbling into your cunt. You whined at the loss, resting your head on Eddie's shoulder and lapping your tongue in the crook of his neck. He let out one of the hottest moans you had ever heard when Steve forced you downward, your pussy devouring his cock whole. You practically sobbed when his blunt tip jabbed that swollen spot deep inside you. You breathed and gasped against Eddie's neck, cooling the wet spots of saliva on his skin and making him groan at the sensation.

Steve continued to guide you up and down. His own length nestled between the cheeks of your ass, your sweat and his leaking precum acting as lube, sliding his cock along the soft flesh. He pressed into you more, wedging his cock between your ass and his stomach for more friction. You moaned at the feeling of him humping your body to get off. Your juices were practically flooding out of you, causing wet slapping noises with every roll of your hips.

You wanted more.

You propped yourself up, coming face to face with Eddie and placed your hands on his shoulders. You started driving your hips faster, angling them to get his cock as deep as possible. You had Eddie and Steve moaning in each ear.

"God, you feel so good wrapped around my cock."

You wanted to tease him for complimenting you, but you were so drunk on his cock that you couldn't say anything more that a sensual whimper.

"You gonna say something nice back, baby?" Steve cooed in your ear, nibbling at the lobe before giving your ass a harsh smack. "You're supposed to be bonding, remember?"

You opened your mouth to say something, but you could do nothing but moan, your head rolling back onto Steve's shoulder in pleasure.

"His cock feels that good you can't even talk, huh?"

"Fuck. It's so good, daddy." You managed breathlessly.

He kept a palm on your ass, and snaked the other one up to wrap around your throat. He gave it a taunting squeeze as he pressed gentle kisses on your cheek until he reached your lips, forcing his tongue inside. It was so fucking messy. The angle made it awkward to capture his lips properly and your mixed saliva ended up pooling out of your mouth. It dribbled down your chin, dripping into the valley of your breasts. Eddie couldn't help but reach up a hand, collecting it and smearing it over your tits, giving them a delicious shine. The open air cooled it on your skin, making your nipples impossibly hard. The feeling of Eddie's rough hands grazing over your skin was slowly pushing you to the edge.

"Fuck! Eddie, I'm so close." You moaned like you were the star of your own porno.

"That's it, sweetheart. Cum on my cock."

"You hear that, baby?" Steve teased. "You've got him calling you sweetheart."

You moaned wildly as you bounced, desperate to feel your release wash over you. Steve's strong hands had you slamming onto Eddie's cock so rapidly that your shaking legs were struggling to keep up. Your pussy throbbed with the pounding of your heart, hungry for euphoria. With a few more guided thrusts, your orgasm spread across your entire body with searing pleasure. Your walls squeezed harshly around Eddies cock causing him to groan. You fell onto his chest, panting and shaking pathetically.

"Good fucking girl." Eddie growled in your ear. "You think you can take more?"

You nodded aimlessly, completely intoxicated by your orgasm. You couldn't prevent the whimper from escaping your lips when he pulled out, leaving you feeling completely empty. Eddie moved you onto the couch with his muscular arms, resting your upper body on the arm rest so you were on all fours for him. Your back arched in anticipation, your ass glistening with sweat and Steve's precum. He gave it a smack, causing you to moan.

In one swift motion, Eddie forced his cock back into your abused cunt, punching the air from your lungs. He slammed his hips into yours frantically, ramming his cock deep inside you at a much faster pace than you had ridden him. You were practically screaming, eyes rolling into your skull and mouth hung open in complete bliss.

Suddenly, you felt a hand gripping on your jaw and guiding you forwards. Steve stood in front of you, grasping the base of his cock and awaiting your eager mouth. You opened wider, lolling out your tongue. He placed the tip of his cock on the soft muscle, letting you lap at in like a lollipop and suckling it into your warm mouth. At the feeling of the soft walls of your cheeks, he released his hand and harshly thrust his cock all the way to the back of your throat. He groaned, stroking the top of your head until a vein bulged in your forehead. He reluctantly pulled back to allow you some oxygen. You coughed and spluttered for air, taking in a few lung-fulls to prepare yourself before his cock intruded your mouth again. You had had plenty of practice deep throating him that you hardly ever gagged anymore. But Eddie's constant thrusting had your body edging forwards, taking Steve's cock deeper and deeper until your throat was constricting around him. He moaned again at the tightness before placing both hands on the back of your head and pounding his hips into your face. You were moaning and crying around his length, high in ecstasy at the feeling of being taken from both ends at the same time.

"You can go harder than that, man. You're not gonna break her." Steve critiqued. "And spank her too, she likes it rough."

"Yeah, I can see that." Eddie laughed breathlessly.

His hips pistoned into you at a ridiculous pace and a large hand struck your ass. You gagged around Steve's cock at the sting, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. He did it again, leaving his mark on your other cheek before rubbing the skin tenderly. Your sensitive cunt was screaming at you to stop, but you were getting so close again. You murmured around Steve's length, trying to warn him of your oncoming orgasm.

"What was that, baby?" Steve teased. "I couldn't hear you over my cock."

You tried to repeat yourself, but Steve wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing his cock through it so it was tight around his length. Your words were gargled and the vibrations shot along his shaft, making him grunt animalistically. You looked up at him through wet eyelashes, begging him to let you talk. He took pity on you, pulling his cock from the back of your throat and putting you out of your misery. You gasped for air.

"Fuck, I'm so close!" You're voice was hoarse. "Can I cum again, daddy?"

"I don't know, baby. You're gonna have to ask Eddie, he's the one who's gonna make you cum."

Never in your life did you think you would be begging Eddie for anything. You could practically hear him smirking behind you. Any other time you wouldn't dream of it, but right now you were desperate.

"Please can I cum, Eddie?"

"Fuck, you're so fucking hot." He slapped a hand on your ass again before reaching round to play with your clit. "Cum for me, sweetheart."

His callous fingers on your sensitive clit had you cumming almost instantly. You were glad that Eddie had his arm around your waist because you didn't think that you could hold yourself up on your shaking legs. Your entire body was humming in pleasure as Eddie continued the thrust into you. You moaned an 'ah, ah, ah' with every snap of his hips, your walls quivering around his length.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum, sweetheart. Where do you want it?"

"Inside. Cum inside me, Eddie. Fill me up."

His eyes squeezed tight and his hips began to lose their rhythm. Despite your overstimulated cunt, you threw your hips back to meet his thrust, sending him over the edge. His hands gripped your hips and impaled you on his cock, keeping you firmly in place. You pussy engulfed him completely until his balls were pressed against your clit. You could feel them tightening as he released his load deep inside you with a loud groan. He pressed a soft kiss to the centre of your back before slowly pulling out and falling back onto the couch. You followed suit, not being able to hold yourself up. You fell between his legs, resting your back on his heaving his chest.

"You think you got one more in you?" Steve's voice was soft as he climbed between your legs and pressed a persuasive kiss to your lips.

His cock stood tall, red and twitching, and dripping precum onto your stomach. Despite your reluctance, you could feel your mouth watering for him. Your body seemed to have a mind of its own. You nodded listlessly with heavy eyes and spread your legs wide for him.

Your cunt was swollen, dripping with Eddie's cum and eager to please. Steve's cock twitched in his hand as he scooped the still-warm cum onto his tip and shoved it all the way back into your pussy. You let out a quiet whimper at the sensation. Steve was definitely longer than Eddie. You could feel him much deeper, especially when he pressed a hand to your stomach, feeling himself inside of you with every thrust.

You were just completely lost in pleasure. Completely and utterly cock drunk.

Unexpectedly, feather light kisses trailed along your neck and calloused hands danced delicately over the soft skin of your arms until they met your tender breasts. You turned your head to look at Eddie. His eyelids hung low, chocolate irises staring longingly at your lips. You angled your neck upwards, meeting in the middle for your first kiss together. He delved in tongue first, massaging yours soothingly and humming at the softness of your lips. It was perfectly unrushed and gentle. The complete opposite of Steve's actions, who thrusted into you desperately trying to chase his high.

You were moaning into Eddie's mouth with every snap of Steve's hips as he shushed and cooed against your lips, telling you how good you were for them and goading you to cum again. The contrast in their actions was making your head spin. Your hands clasped over Eddie's that were continuing to knead your breasts. You guided his rough palms to squeeze gently and you nibbled his bottom lip at the feeling. You gasped loudly against Eddie's tongue at a particularly pleasurable thrust from Steve, his cock perfectly angled to plough deep inside you when he pressed your knees into your chest.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum, baby."

"Cum inside me, daddy. Give it to me, please."

He thrusted a few more times, his cock gliding effortlessly in a mix of your juices and Eddie's cum. The thought of that alone was enough to push him over the edge and he shot his load inside of you. You whined into Eddie, feeling utterly filled to the brim after being stuffed full twice. The second his softening cock slipped from inside of you, he ducked between your legs, gathering his spend and spreading it all over your swollen folds with his tongue. You hands immediately weaved themselves into his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue delved into your bullied hole. Eddie dragged his fingers along your spoilt clit, rubbing harsh circles until your legs started quivering around Steve's head. Your back peeled from Eddie's front as it arched. You struggled to catch your breath between your crescendoing moans. Your toes curled as you released a pleasurable cry to your final orgasm. Eddie stroked your hair and whispered praises in your ear as Steve continued to slurp at your pussy until you pushed him away.

He collected the mix of all your juices on his tongue before pressing his lips to yours, forcing the liquids between your lips and licking into your mouth to swirl the flavours onto your tongue. You moaned at the mix of sweet and salty. Resisting the urge to swallow, you pulled yourself from Steve before passing the mixture to Eddie. He took it from you eagerly, shoving his tongue as deep into your mouth as he could to savour every drop.

"That was so fucking hot." Eddie commended, finally relaxing properly into the sofa.

"Hey, good job, man." Steve complimented, throwing a friendly punch to his arm.

You could hardly hear any of it. Your ears were still ringing from your orgasm and your eyes were threatening to close, feeling completely absent from reality. Three sharp snaps of Steve's fingers had your bleary eyes opening.

"Are you still with us, baby?"

"Yes, daddy." Your voice was just above a whisper and laced with sleep.

"It's not daddy anymore, baby. It's Steve."

"Steve?"

"Yeah, that's it baby." He praised, gently stroking your cheek to ease you back into the real world. "Keep your eyes open, baby. I'm gonna get you a glass of water, okay?"

You nodded drowsily, your head lolling back onto Eddie's chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head when Steve was out of sight.

"You good, sweetheart? You have a good time?"

You nodded again, humming a soft 'mm hmm'.

"Well, I'm glad that we could resolve our differences." His laugh rumbled against your back.

Steve waltzed back, jeans hung loosely and unbuckled on his hips as he approached with two tall glasses of water. "Can you sit up for me, baby?"

You had barely any strength left in your body. Eddie had to sit you up with him, keeping you pressed against his chest. Steve handed him a glass of water. He brought it to your lips, the coolness of it hydrating your parched lips and dry mouth. You gulped it down greedily, nearly half the glass gone before you started feeling more awake. You finished the glass before using what little energy you had left to pry yourself from Eddie's sweaty skin and sat yourself properly on the couch between the two boys.

"We need to do that again." You exhaled with a chuckle.

"We can talk about that in the morning, sweetheart. For now, let's get you cleaned up."

[pedgito]

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐔𝐒 | General Acacius x reader x Emperor Geta

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summary | living under emperor geta's rule was never supposed to be easy, but he aims to make it nearly impossible, even if he has become fond of you.

author's note | i never really intended for this to get another part, but since seeing the movie and wanting to expand on these characters and possibly writing for geta on his own, i thought i would turn this into a little passion project. i know there's a niche group of you that have asked for a second part to this, and as much as i crave chaos, i hope you enjoy where i took this and know that i am all for the crazed man that is emperor geta. (can be read as a standalone, but the first part can be read here)

content warning | 18+ mdni, DDDNE - heavy dubcon (due to sex work, ect), heavy themes of abuse under the rule of a vile emperor (mention of injury, slapping, ect), normalized degredation, exhibitionism and exchange of bodily fluids, smut galore (oral, unprotected piv, ect), choking tw, death tw, use of opium poppy, drugging tw (not against reader), named side character, marcus acacius being the real knight in shining armor. this is unbeta'd so i apologize for any spelling mishaps.

word count — 8k

You live within him, it feels. 

Geta never let you stray farther than a touch, within arms distance. 

You were no longer yourself, rather an extension of him.

He prefers you naked. But, he often dresses you up in gowns; modest sometimes, occasionally leaning toward more revealing fabric—sheer lace, high slits, deep-cut necklines that accentuate your breasts and hips, the soft but tight curve of your ass. Sometimes you wondered if he liked the clothes more accessible to his wandering hands, his fingers fluttering under your gown during public meetings, even.

The men never said a word, they wouldn’t dare.

If you were given the opportunity to be away from him, it was always under the watchful gaze of his guards, and only to complete tasks he has ordered to you—fetching food when he was too lazy to leave his bed and when you were feigning the grimace in your face, itching to wander.

Your relationship is complicated in the beginning but easier to manage as you become accustomed to his personality and outbursts, learning what makes him tick. He’s easier to manipulate with sex, something you have no issue taking full advantage of.

And he fancies an audience, usually. Other servants, less privileged women that trembled in his presence, fearful that his next move would be their last, somehow comforted by your confident and guiding touch. It made no sense to not enjoy what you could while you were imprisoned here, even if Geta and his brother did nothing to soothe the discomfort they left in their wake, making your skin crawl as his fingers drifted along your skin.

Caracalla could not touch either, his brother forbade it. An eager boy, riddled with a brain-eating sickness, he was dutiful to his brother but harmful in his own ways, fickle with thoughtful choices and often making important decisions on impulse. 

They were destroying Rome, that much you knew to be true.

-

Geta’s hand guided up your stomach, his palm curling around your breasts as he squeezed, your own hand flat against his chest as you rode him with fervor in the early morning hours, dawn peeking over the warm, lilac sky. 

In this light, he seemed almost normal. Eyes drifting shut in the silence of his quarters, just you—just him, he often made the mistake of weakening his defenses like this. He growled, low and quiet as his hands traded your breasts for your hips, spinning you in an instant and pinning you beneath him, soon his hand like a vice grip on your neck as he thrusts into you with little care or regard, a string of spit connecting his parted lips as he laughed, an eerie cackle as he came inside of you, admiring the tremble in your lip as he released his grip on your throat, subtly intaking the breath you had been deprived of as he pulls away from you, falling against the mattress and pulling the silk bed sheet over himself.

You move to do the same, but he grips the sheet.

“Make yourself come,” He demands, a sneer across his face as he yanks the sheet away completely. 

It was routine, now. You part your thighs without hesitation, leaning back on your elbow to allow him an unobstructed view, a tired but amused expression on his face as you play with your clit, fingers sliding through your folds, eyes drifting shut as they often did. 

It was easier to picture him this way, brown curls buried between your thighs and the tanned-skin of his backside as he stretched out below you, rutting his cock into the sheets as he ate you like his final meal, eyes like warm honey as they peered up at you.

Acacius, sweet Acacius. 

You were thankful you could remember his face, a memory you would pray to the gods to stick with you forever, a blissful crest of pleasure as your middle finger circles over your clit in a hurried manner, heels digging into the sheets as you feel it—fuck, it’s there, right there—

“Look at me,” He leers, his hand twisting into your hair at the crown of your head, a searing pain that makes you gasp, but your eyes fly open, mouth parted in a mix of pain and pleasure, “tell me how generous of an emperor I am to be so kind to a little whore like you.”

You nod shakily, swallowing as your mouth dries, “You have given me everything, your highness. Everything. I may never be able to repay you such a debt,” It was a script, one you’ve memorized and dare not forget, “May I—” You’ve learned to ramp up the dramatics when he’s lips part in anticipation, fingers itching as his thigh as they curled, his dick twitching beneath the fabric, “may I come?”

So fucking full of himself.

Whether you did or not didn’t matter anymore, but he allowed it. Insists. Your eyes never leave him.

–

Even as you dress, again, he hovers. 

You’ve learned the proper customs and rules, always making sure you look perfect. Pristine. Scrubbing your body down so harsh and deep that it makes your skin feel raw, because if Geta noticed anything—anything at all, it would mean punishment. 

He liked lashings, but that was too exertive for him.

His handmaidens aided the swelling and cuts as well as they could, ice and creams, clever ways to cover the wounds to your face. You were starting to feel a numbness when the anger would rise and explode, only praying that he would remove his rings before doing so.

“He’s visiting,” Geta speaks as though it was a secret, squeezing your chin between his fingers before they predictably fall to your neck, squeezing in the perfect spot to make you feel light, airy, and not in a good way, “I best not get a whiff of contempt, understood?”

“I am yours, Geta,” You knew he liked the more relaxed approach, his grip easing up, “he is nothing, nothing compares to you.”

His nostrils flare, a half-hearted smirk crossing his face as he shrugs.

“I have a task for you,” Geta teases, before his finger trails toward your nose, thumb rubbing against the soft, bulbous curve and down your lips, pushing his fingertip inside, prying your lips apart, thumb tucking against the inside of your cheek as you mouth falls open, “but, not in this moment. The timing must be…perfect.”

Your eyes squint slightly—he was up to no good, that much you could decipher. 

–

He gave the other servants a look, shooing them away as you stayed on his heels, your dress flowing at your ankles, feet bare against the marble floor. He pulled faintly at your wrist as he took a seat, maneuvering you into his lap, his own legs outstretched, fingers traveling up the center of your chest before his hands curving around the back of your head, his thumb rubbing at your jawline.

“Try anything, I will kill him first. Then you.”

You smile, syrupy sweet, playing with a thin strand of his fiery locks underneath the lip of his crown.

“You worry so much, Emperor,” Your own hand covers his, a bold touch as you stare him down, “It does not suit you.”

He’s emotionless for a moment too long, fearing you may have finally overstepped, before he breaks out into a laugh, one final squeeze before he relinquishes his hold.

The General and his entourage arrive soon after your conversation, Caracalla having joined shortly before the approach of many guests—most thanking their Emperors for no apparent reason other than because they enjoyed watching people kneel before them, confessing their undying loyalty.

It was pathetic, but what you were doing—forced or not, was no better. It was much like being stripped bare, the way the others' eyes prowled, watchful of Geta’s wandering touch.

“Quite the whore you’ve acquired,” One embolden man comments, his slimy smirk coming moments later, before calling over his shoulder, “General Acacius, you must tell me where you acquire such…toys. Such a generous gift you gave.”

You smiled with faked confidence, sat in his lap, one leg draped over his own, the other dragging along the floor where it rested through his split thighs, a kneading hand dragging along your inner thigh. Your fingers drag along his own, his tongue shoving into his bottom lip and over his teeth, a tick you’ve learned meant no good, his eyes turning quickly to rage.

You could hear the deep timber of the general over your shoulder as he is called forward, your eyes never leaving Geta, even as he straightens in his throne, his palm flattening against the arm of the chair digging into your back. You slide a hand inside his robe, fingertips dragging along his collarbone, “He knows I am yours now, Geta.”

“General Acacius,” Geta greets with a poorly faked kindness, one that Acacius returns with a curt nod and the usual bow that one of higher ranking would offer, the traditions were different for townspeople, but it was still ridiculous in any manner, “I take you have good news to share.”

Otherwise, he would not be here.

“Austria will be conquered within the next fortnight, Emperor Geta,” He explains with a rigidness that oozed discomfort, ignoring the smarmy look of another nearby general, one of much lower important, but nonetheless—

“Ah, it must feel strange,” The man suddenly interjects, a finger circling the steel goblet in his hand, filled to the brim with wine, “trading whores, doing business—rather messy…”

Geta’s jaw tenses, his anger suddenly directed elsewhere.

But, as usual, Acacius knows how to defuse a tense situation.

“She was a gift to the Emperor,” The general clarifies, “for what he does with her is none of my business, I only knew her as a loyal servant,” not a whore, never had those words left his mouth.

Geta’s chest rumbles softly, his hand squeezing painfully tight at your thigh.

Your teeth clench to silence the pain, dreading his next words as they leave his mouth.

“Call her what she is, Acacius,” He goaded, “a whore—and she excels.” 

His other hand slides through the open back of your dress, slipping one fold of fabric down your shoulder as he grins, all of the lower society bystanders having filtered out of the palace by now, leaving a large group of generals waiting for Geta's official dismissal.

“Give them a show,” He boasts, shoving you off of him rather abruptly, but you quickly plant your bare feet into the flooring, steadying yourself as you kneel before the Emperor, spreading out the spare fabric of your dress to act as a temporary comfort to your knees as you work at Geta’s robe, hesitant as you peer up at him briefly, he nods slightly, but taunting, “go on.”

It wasn’t the first time you’ve performed for an audience, feeling eerily normal now—but in a room full of generals? Acacius? You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, deafening everything else around you as you split his robe apart and dragged your fingers up the inside of his thigh, his tongue peeling slightly through his lips as you wrapped your delicate fingers around his cock, watching as he hardened under your skilled touch, despite how incredibly awkward the air felt, some of the men murmuring around you quietly.

His fingers dig into your hair at the start of your scalp, unhappy with your pace as he grips, pulling you forward until you get the idea, your tongue licking slowly along the head of his cock, the reddened tip glistening with a small drop of precome. You circle around it, slow and tantalizing before you run down the length of his shaft, having memorized every ridge and vein by this point that it has become second nature to instinctively know what pulls him toward the edge faster, easier. But, he wasn’t even looking at you. He was staring through you, behind you.

He was staring Acacius down, guiding you down his cock without much relief as your eyes flutter shut when his cock head nears the back of your throat, using practiced breathing as you focus. He didn’t like it when you gagged, eventually allowing you up for air as you claw gently at his thigh, but the process is repeated over and over again until you’re tearing up, drool collecting down your neck and chest, hand still secured tightly at the root of your hair as he pulls you off suddenly, demanding a tense, “Open, tongue out,” as he comes in short, but forceful spurts against your tongue, swallowing the heady taste of him without another thought. 

He pats at your cheek lightly when you open your mouth, showing it empty.

“Stand,” He ordered, adjusting your dress back up slightly to cover your breast, chuckling underneath his breath at how disheveled you looked otherwise, hair an absolute mess and your chest slick with spit, “oh—why don’t you give him a kiss? As a thank you for his generosity.”

Geta covers himself lazily, uncaring as if a dozen or so men hadn’t just watched him come down your throat. You turn on your heels, approaching Acacius who was simmering with rage, it was subtle, but you could sense it as you came closer.

You smile softly, a silent apology as you touch him first, fingers curling around the side of his neck as you press your lips against his in a chaste kiss, knowing Geta would allow nothing more. And it doesn’t surprise you how easy it feels to fall back into his touch, the polite press of Acacius hand at your hip catching you by surprise, feeling the faint adjustment of fabric, invisible to the naked eye, but you feel it.

Geta doesn’t appreciate Acacius reciprocity, cutting the moment short.

But, Geta is more relaxed that night after Acacius departure than he’s ever been.

He’d won. 

At least, he thought so.

–

“An entire limb seems harsh,” Geta thinks, twisting the rings on his finger as you dry from the bath he had ordered you take before lying in bed with him, always wanting you perfect and clean, “maybe a few fingers would suffice as punishment.”

You keep your silence, letting him think aloud as you squeezed the water from your hair with the cloth, but eventually Geta’s hand wanders, pulling at the cloth covering your body, forcing it to drop to the ground, “What do you think?”

Your eyebrows raise in faint shock, that he was legitimately addressing you about a concern, a choice he would happily make himself—so, why? Why was he asking?

Whatever, you’ll bite.

“What did they do?”

“The general—from the other day, who had such choice words for your dear Acacius—”

“Geta, I have told you—”

“Do not interrupt me,” He seethes, pulling at your wrist, forcing you to be done with your hair and climb over him in bed, “He assaulted a maid of ours—or Caracalla’s specifically, we had caught him up in his room, trespassing, touching things that did not belong to him—”

People, he means. But, he would never be so generous.

“And, you think a few fingers? An arm? That taking away a limb would keep him from doing it again?” You clarify, rolling to your stomach as you crawl toward him, your face level with his own as you rest your head into your open palm.

“Unless, say, you suggest something different.”

“Kill him,” You offer lightly, “If you think one less appendage would teach him a lesson, your highness, I hate to speak out of term, but—”

Geta considers the thought, head tilting to the side before he slowly opens his mouth to speak, “No…I do understand. But, he is a general. It would be something to discuss with a council.”

Your fingers slide across his chest, fingertips rubbing against the small patch of auburn hair at the center of his sternum, slowly crawling up his neck, idle movement that you didn’t think about at all anymore.

“You are an emperor. The people of Rome listen to you,” He and his brother were burning it to the ground, but that wasn’t something you could stop alone, “you are powerful—and, forgive me, but watching you command a room,” It amazes you sometimes how easily it was to play into his weaknesses, a smile spreading across his face as you boosted his ego, “—it does things to a woman.”

His hand, like a magnet, attaches to your thigh to spread you out on top of him, straddling his groin, your bare pussy pressed tight against the cloth of his robe, your hands pressing into his naked chest.

“You are smart,” Geta notices, “educated—a keen eye unlike I have seen on someone of your social status, I do not know much about you.”

“You have never asked,” You reply honestly, “though, it does not matter. I am here for one reason, to serve you.” His grip shifts your waist slightly, aiding the slow, but gentle rock of your hips against his hardening cock and if you closed your eyes long enough, you could enjoy it.

“Yet, you may be of more use to me than I suspected,” Geta teases, his hands rising to massage at your breasts, casually nodding to the maid who had peeked her head inside after a quiet knock, nodding as he answered, “—yes, bring them in.”

A line of varying women filter into the room with somber faces.

And just like that, the moment was lost.

–

Geta was such a heavy sleeper, fortunately. Gently prying yourself away as he rolls onto his side, mumbling something unintelligible in his sleep as you quietly step toward the the attached room where you bathed, pulling at a loose tile in the floor where you had stowed away what Acacius had slipped into the fold of your dress, withholding for the right moment to peek.

It was a tiny scroll, rolled up with a thin string and no bigger than your thumb, your nails pulling at the slab until it pops free, quietly unfurling the curled up paper as you read what was carved onto the thin paper, an overuse of ink smudged in spots.

It listed a place, a monument he knew you’d remember and a promise that he would visit every night after the sun set for a small window in time, hoping to catch you. 

He was still trying to reach you, to provide himself as a comfort in such a time.

You had to plan accordingly, find someone you trusted enough, and convince Geta of your undying loyalty—though, it seemed that you were breaking him down. 

And luckily, you did have a maid you trusted, to a degree—a young woman of similar age, meek but unsuspecting, she often sensed your displeasement and unease, didn’t fit in like the rest of the women that bowed so loyal to the emperors. But, she was a gossip, a troublemaker like Caracalla who she served loyally. She tended to him more regularly, often dealing with his breakdowns and tantrums caused by Geta or, lately, anything. There was never a way to know when he would blow a fuse and cause more bloodshed, he was unruly. 

There was only one hour of the day when you see her—morning proceedings, food served to their royal highness, the two brothers chatting amongst themselves as everyone moved fluidly around them. Caracalla had requested fresh squeezed juice, a rather tedious task, but you sneak away with her as the opportunity arose, digging through the oranges without prying eyes.

“I must ask you a favor,” You begin in a hushed tone, rubbing your thumb over the skin of the orange, “and I will owe you immensely.”

She looks at you curious, but expectant.

“The stuff…that helps Caracalla sleep,” You hint at out of habit, paranoia getting the best of you, “I would…I require it, for Geta. He sleeps heavily, but I need…to be sure.”

“He is insatiable as of late, that act in front of the generals—”

“Irene, I am at my end, please—do you have any remaining?”

It was opium poppy, it had many forms but the one you knew most of was powder. Easy to slip into a drink, often undetectable. It was worth a shot, even if it meant your life.

“At dusk, by dinner. Is that enough time?” She answers easily, a sigh of relief breathing past your lips as you nod, cradling a few oranges in the crook of your elbow.

You had only prayed Acacius hadn’t given up hope, that he might still be lingering in the shadows in wait, hoping for a glimpse of you again.

-

As promised Irene delivers, dousing both of the boys inconspicuously as you kept watch, tainting their wine with the sleeping drug, watch as his eyes began to tire before you as you slipped a grape between his teeth, a sated and happy smile on his face. 

You hate it, but he almost looks normal. Like he wasn’t slaughtering people for entertainment and ruling like a madman—he was still young, just beyond his teenage years and into adulthood, like yourself. You wonder where things went wrong and why, that someone could be filled with such unrestrained rage and hate.

Caracalla beckons for Irene eventually, Dundus hopping from her shoulder to his as she trails alongside him to his quarters, suddenly feeling the nudging of a sharp nose into your neck, a faint sniff and a hum as Geta appreciates the flowery smell, a faint lavender on your skin.

“I need you,” He speaks against your skin, nearly sliding your dress down then, your hands grabbing at him quickly and his reaction is delayed, almost confused, “did you not hear me?”

“Let us retire to your bed,” You suggest, dragging your thumb along his bottom lip, watching as his wine-stained tongue licks at the digit, “and you will have all night to ravish me as you please.”

Thankfully, it doesn’t take much convincing. Though, he’s less coordinated than you’re anticipating, draping himself over you lazily as he kneads at your breasts, cupping your cunt over the fabric of your dress, the silk halfway down your body as you step beyond the threshold and Geta is on you without a moment to breath, peeling his clothes of layer by layer before he’s bare before you, a surprising gentleness to his movements.

He takes a seat on the side of his bed, at the edge as he pulls you into his lap, hands spread out against your spine, fingers digging into the skin and begging to make it ache, hurt, but he doesn’t have the strength, his kisses become increasingly more lazy as the opium takes hold.

Eventually, his eyes flutter as you pull back, your lips barely brushing against his as he fights the exhaustion, but eventually succumbs, falling slack on the bed as you climb off of him, leaving him sprawled out in his bare state to your valiant amusement, given the amount of times he’s taken to shame you rather than show sympathy, it seemed fair.

Sneaking out of the palace is easier than you expect, having spent endless weeks being mindful, watchful of even the smallest of things. Paths, open windows, learning the schedules of staff and guards, it was almost too easy as your feet fell against the broken pavement, the quiet footfalls following in your quick departure, praying to whatever deity above that General Acacius believed in you enough that you would fight to see him.

–

When you show, it is quiet. Dark, not a soul in sight, tugging the cloak hastily over your shoulders, sending a chill up your spine against the bare skin underneath, a small inkling of doubt seeping into your thoughts as you stare around aimlessly, wondering if you were too late.

Your frame slumps against a nearby pillar, secluded in the shadows, the cold night biting at your feet, the faint sound of hooves off in the distance, realizing just how noisy the streets could be outside of the palace—it was comforting, in a way.

“You came,” The words come from your left, behind you as your head whips over your shoulder and he’s touching you before you have time to take him in, a gentle but firm press against your clothed arms, holding you still, “you are here, dove.”

It was a tone of disbelief, like he had lost hope.

He wouldn’t tell you that he almost didn’t come tonight. It didn’t matter, because you were here.

The visceral reaction you have at his endearing name for you is like a vice grip on your heart, mouth opening to speak but words falling short.

Eventually, the tears fell.

“I am sorry, General,” You speak with a shaky timber, “I am—that act, his performance the other day—“

The general soothes your worry, dragging his thumb along your cheekbone to catch a stray tear, “That has no meaning to me, if anything, it was his mistake for allowing us so close. Otherwise, you would not be here with me now.”

You peer at him through tear-soaked lashes, feeling as if you would be snatched away at any moment, your fingers curling into his similar clothing, a cloak covering what you could assume to be a more relaxed attire, a toga that he would often where around his home, strolling barefoot through his atrium. 

“Why am I here, Acacius?”

“You must trust me,” He urges, “that when the time is right, I will come for you.”

“We could go now,” You plead, “he would never know, he does not care enough to go after me, I swear—“

“Little dove, he cares for you much more than you know,” The general counters, “you are valuable to him.”

“He asked something of me the other night,” You speak absently, rubbing a fingertip along the frayed thread of his cloak at your eye line, “what a fitting punishment I thought would be of a man who assaulted a servant—I believe he was testing me.”

Acacius furrows his brow, “You loyalty, it seems. You are getting under his skin, I see it. He knows of your value to me and that as much as he tries, you will not be tamed. But, he is trying.”

You chew at your bottom lip quietly, a nervous tick that Acacius picked up on long ago, both of his thumbs pulling your lip away from further mutilation.

“Little one, what is on your mind?”

“I have to go back soon,” You say with an obvious bitterness to your tone, “though, I do not wish to.”

His large hand curls around the side of your face, cradling your head as you lean into the touch, warmth spreading like fire over your skin, “You will be with me again.”

He barely registers as your lips touch his, a blink and you were there, lips pressed so tightly against his own that they might bruise, leaning into him like he was the only thing keeping you upright, pulling at the fabric of his toga as his hand wanders beyond your cloak, in search of a touch.

“Dove,” He breathes at the realization of skin, “you are bare, your clothes—“ 

“I rushed,” You stare at him impishly, “I did not think, I know, but,” the general smiles, cheeks dimpling with the show of emotion as he shakes his head.

“You have me wanting what I cannot have,” He sounds somber, his hand still lingering against your hip, “I know he does not cherish you the way he should.”

You laugh softly, your stomach fluttering at his wandering hand, drifting along your public bone before the full expanse of his hand was cupping your cunt, welcomed by warmth and the sticky wet sensation of arousal that he’s been longing for, like an addict.

“General, would you like to know something?”

“What is it?” He inquires to your obvious amusement, his and cradling your head back, neck exposed slightly, thankful that the streets around you were empty.

“He likes to watch me pleasure myself,” You admit, “mostly because he cannot achieve the feat himself, but as I close my eyes I picture those mornings when you snuck under the sheets and spread my legs open,” Acacius leans forward greedily, hot breath fanning over your face as he yearns for another kiss, moving away from him tauntingly as you finish your speech, “that sweet look on your face as you taste me, thankful that you expertise was not contained to only battle—“

“Careful,” He warns, “I am not against a reminder if you continue.”

You peer over the broken set of stairs behind him, attached to an abandoned structure, eyebrows raising expectantly, “A parting gift, General?”

—

The discomfort was nothing compared to a general kneeling into the dirt and stone without a hesitation to please you, a whore, a servant—your title no longer mattered, having carried so many. 

He’s still hooded, your legs hanging over his shoulders as he kneeled against the steps, forcing you down flat against the concrete as he licked a slow line through the seam of your cunt, again, again. A teasing trace over your clit as he pressed two thick fingers inside of you, lapping at you loudly.

“Did he bed you tonight?” Acacius inquires curiously.

“Nearly,” You sigh, a high-pitched breathy noise as his pace quickens, knowing that you both were on a time limit, “he—huh—was far too tuckered to be fulfilled.”

His brows raise subtly at your choice of words.

“I drugged him,” You admit, an unexpected moan ripping from your throat as his tongue flicks over you sensitive clit, fingers digging into his cloak-covered shoulder, “seems the Emperor is not as untouchable as he thinks, and tricked by a whore—he would have a fit.”

His fingers dip into your thighs as you squeeze them together around his head, his tongue working quickly over your clit until you’re breathless and whining, feeling the rushing wave of your climax as it crashes into you, Acacius licking up the mess like a starved man.

It takes you a few moments to come back to earth, feeling a gentle tug at your hand as Acacius helps you up, readjusting your cloak over your naked body without much of a word, knowing your time with him was up.

“Wait for the bells,” He tells you, “light, delicate—look for me, I will be near.” 

You begin to speak, but are silenced with a kiss. 

A final goodbye. 

“Remember what I told you?”

Live.

You nod.

“At whatever cost, little dove.”

—

You go to great lengths to make it back to the palace before dawn, hiding behind every pillar, sneaking around corners, somehow managing to slip back into Geta’s bed without so much as a sound, his body still mostly laid out as you had left him, aside from a little rousing around.

When morning breaks, Geta wakes with an obvious grogginess to his tone, forcing his eyes to stay open.

“You stuffed me full of wine,” Geta jokes, “I cannot remember anything from our night prior.”

You’d tried to look particularly exhausted, hair slightly disheveled and the satin bed sheet askew, “It was quite a night, your highness. Such a shame,” You reply mockingly, though there’s a sweetness to your tone, almost teasing.

And if Geta suspects anything, he doesn’t say it.

It takes a day, two, silently mulling over the events.

He wasn’t a half-wit like his brother, his brain like mush beyond repair, useless by result of the infection in his loins. He was helpless, spiraling deeper into madness.

Geta had his wits about him—his eyes drag along your body, the deep swooping fabric showing off your exposed back, the soft skin and gentle slope of your spine, a look shared between you and Caracalla’s most trusted maiden.

Along with the lightness in your tone, a revered outlook, a bounce in your step that most people wouldn’t catch, but Geta—he’s just as much an observer as yourself.

He suspects, no—senses, feels, the deceit in your challenging gazes, the additional touches with an air of confidence, too cocky for someone who has been nothing more than a whore and housemaiden.

He’d always known you were particularly special; smart by means of General Acacius, knowing how to read and write and many other things that others of your station did not have the luxury to learn. And you were hard to break, though Geta had worked at it for weeks, he’d gotten you there.

Obedient, compliant, merciful. 

At least, he’d thought so.

He knows he won’t get a word out of you.

So, he goes for Irene.

-

The guards corral you at dinner, sitting silently with Caracalla as Dundus perched on his shoulder, eating quietly. They aren’t kind either, grabbing hard at your bicep as they drag you from your spot on the floor, Geta’s throne eerily empty.

Your stomach turns at the slow realization as you’re dragged down the hall, tossed beyond the threshold of Geta’s room as you stumble to the floor, groaning at the impact, head hitting the ground first as you roll over in pain, opening your eyes to an even more horrific sight.

Geta, hovered over Irene, lifeless eyes staring back as he dropped the thick cord from his hands, something he must have ripped from the curtain as one drooped down from its normal placeholder. 

There was no blood, no mess, but the light in her eyes was gone, and Geta stumbled over, crawling—hunching down to intersect your bleary eyesight as you slowly came to the realization of what was happening.

“You have betrayed me,” He announces calmly, despite the eyes of a crazed man staring straight through you, face void of any emotion, “after all I have given you.”

“Geta—“ You plead, pushing up on your palms to sit up, his foot coming in contact with your shoulder as you roll into your back forcefully.

“I AM YOUR EMPEROR,” He seethes, spitting as the words left his mouth, “YOU—BETRAYED—ME!”

And left a mess in the process, unfortunately.

“If you would…let me explain,” He stalks closer, watching as you rise slowly before his hand is striking across your face, the sting almost immediate, “I—think…that you—“

“You do not think,” He spats through clenched teeth, shaking with rage as he kneels to your level again, like a rabid dog, “whores do not think, they are fucked until there’s nothing left and then they are tossed out. Like trash.”

In desperation, the words slip out.

“I love you,” You say softly—it was a careful bundle of words that you’ve never spoken before, not even to General Acacius, “whatever she has told you, it is lies.”

His silence isn’t an answer, but you took the opportunity, unsure if he was stunned or gearing to explode.

Convince him, at whatever cost.

“She knows—of my past with the general. She was jealous of me, you. She drugs your brother, you must know. And she tried it with you too, it is why I did not leave your side, why I insisted we come back to your room.”

“But, you knew—“

You reach for him, a hand circling his wrist.

“No, no,” You speak softly, “It was small things. Your speech, it was slurring. You were drifting away, almost as if you were floating. I could see it. I have seen it before, with your brother. The nights when he is unruly, she…calms him.”

“Her story is entirely different,” He challenges, “you see my issue, yes?”

“Geta,” You challenge him, reaching forward to cradle his face, surprised by his willingness to allow it, watching you carefully, “I am loyal to you—no one else. I do not know another way to show you, but I will. I will, you must—“

“Strip,” He orders, “—on the bed,”

It makes your stomach twist, but you follow his orders.

His demeanor is unreadable as he watches, mirroring your movements before he’s climbing over you in bed.

He settles on his calves between your open legs, a blanket of silence falling over as he reaches for your hand, a surprisingly gentle touch as he brings your fingertips to his cock, slowly hardening at the sight of you.

Your fingers circle his shaft as you lean up on your elbows, ignoring his intense eye contact as you drag your palm along the velvety soft skin, feeling him grow to a stiff hardness within a few minutes—it should disgust you.

It does, to a degree. It wasn’t that Geta was unattractive in a physical sense, but the mental picture was hard for you to overlook. But, for the moment, you could pretend like he wasn’t the worst human being to walk the earth.

His fingertips brush against your cunt slightly, fortunately your body has adjusted to the pleasure of such a complicated predicament. You’re sure if you tried hard enough, you could truly enjoy it. But, you’re thankful that your body connects with the severity of the situation, quivering slightly at his touch, mouth opening in a small gasp.

“Are you nervous?” Geta inquires.

You shake your head, “No—it is only, we have never…”

“Let us try something new, hm?” He offers with a grin and you nod instinctively, feeling two thick digits dip inside of you with no warning, not so much grace as Acacius would have, but it isn’t uncomfortable.

It seems Geta has his wits about him, fortunately, diminishing you to nothing but a whimpering mess after a while, some of it a little bolstered for his benefit, but the pleasure was real. 

And god, did you crave that release.

Soon, his hand is gripping his shaft, sliding between the folds of your pussy as he coats himself, mouth twitching at the sight as he speaks, “I want you to watch.”

And you do, his cock pressing into you slowly, “It is such a generous act, you see, feeding you my cock like this,” another slow push, “you should feel special, little dove.”

The words are jarring, but you try not to react. 

“It is not everyday you are fucked by an emperor,” The dichotomy to his words almost makes you chuckle, as if he wasn’t fucking you every day, sometimes even two or three times, “you should be thankful.”

“I am.” You quickly appease.

“Then thank me,” His voice was tense again, his neck flexing with the tightness to his words.

“T—thank you, Emperor Geta.”

“For?”

One last forceful push and he’s seated fully inside of you, your brow pulling together at the pressure, lips parting open, “For your cock, for making me feel so—oh,” His thrusts are careful, calculated, your head falling back at the divine angle he’s found, “for—oh, gods—so good.”

You fist the sheets in desperation, back arching up slightly, watching his jaw tense at the way your breasts bounce, his eyes darkening over time, only a shell of himself as he thrusts into you, two firms hands on your hips slowly making their way upwards, wondering if he was following the path toward your breasts before they are bypassing and going straight for your neck, his hands encircling your throat.

It is merely a second too late before your brain catches up, too overloaded by pleasure that you don’t see the definite switch, quickly going from gentle pressure to the type of force that makes your vision white out.

You choke, gasping for air as you try to speak his name, plead, anything—his eyes are locked on your face, a sick determination as your stronger, forceful blows to his chest quick become weaker, weaker, feeling yourself teetering on that edge before he’s releasing his hold, forcing you to gasp for air.

“Do you still love me?” Geta asks.

And despite yourself, you lie.

“Yes, I love you, Geta.”

He was a sad boy, you’ve come to realize, wanting love but also craving unyielding power. He did not want equals, he wanted subordinates, fans, people that would sacrifice everything in his name. But, underneath it all, Geta was just as broken as you suspected.

—

A parade of the gladiators wasn’t a normal occasion, but it was quite the event—a way of wealthy men showing off their new toys, dangerous murderous machines out for blood.

It was the entertainment before the big show, sitting in the expansive throne room underneath the colosseum as the rich drowned in wine and food, you and several other servants surrounding the two brothers, eagerly awaiting your next order.

At least, for you, it was being obedient.

It felt like a collar around your neck, his fingers tracing along the back of your spine and up, fingertips resting against your shoulder, his thumb rubbing against the column of your throat.

Geta spots him from a mile away, that trademark white against gold, gaudy armor fit so perfectly for a man like Acacius, you bow your head at Geta’s push, the footsteps approaching steadily.

Your throat ached still, eyes slightly bloodshot. He hid your face, the evidence, speaking to the line of approaching generals as they greeted the two men with high regard.

“I commend you, your highness,” A general speaks, faceless but you sneer at his tone, fists balling into the fabric of your dress, “she is so well behaved, you must teach me your tricks.”

You bite down at the inside of your lip as Geta pets your head, tilting your head to the side slightly as you close your eyes, his thumb pressing against your cheekbone.

“There is no trick,” He retorts, “my little dove is loyal, a hard thing to find in a world full of deceit.”

It was laughable, coming from the emperor. 

The moniker is an even lower blow, knowing that General Acacius was a few feet away, the white fabric of his traditional armor dragging along the ground.

“Ah, Acacius,” Geta boasts, “I hope you have come to bring me good news.”

It best only be good news.

As he approaches, Geta’s grip tightens, curling around the side of your neck as a show of dominance as his finger digs into your skin, daring you to defy him. 

The soreness is pertinent, causing you to grimace in pain at his actions, something that Acacius spots but does not acknowledge.

“Yes, our army is nearly ready, Emperor Geta,” He nods before acknowledging his brother, “Emperor Caracalla,” but Geta is not amiss to the way his eyes drag toward you for a brief moment.

“Careful,” He warns, “doves are…so sacred, yes?”

Your sideways gaze peeks through as his eyes bore into Acacius, the subtle glimpse of broken capillaries and a plea for help as you lock eyes with Acacius is all he needs.

It would be tonight—it had to be tonight.

—

He’s a horrid mess, drunk off his ass as he drags you back toward the room. His brother and he were always more rowdy after gladiator games, riding the high of an entertaining act of violence, slaughter for mere amusement. Geta nearly topples over you as he opens the door, pointing hastily toward the bed with a slurred speech, “Naked, on the bed.”

He’s heading for more alcohol, a table tucked away in the corner of the room with a plethora of choices, pouring lazily as he stumbles, the utensils from an earlier meal falling to the floor as he bumps into it, looking displeased at your state of dress. He grimaces, nose scrunching as he reaches for the knife that had clattered to the floor, twisting it in his hand to point it at you.

“You dare—you dare to defy me?” 

Your eyes squint, narrow as he jabs at you sloppily, dodging the action with ease.

“You cannot even see straight, your grace,” You jeer, watching as he gulped down the crimson liquid, remnants trailing down the side of his mouth as he threw the glass away carelessly, the glass shattering against the floor as he charged at you, pressing the tip of the knife under your chin as he backed you into the wall, his eyes capturing the similar essence of rage when you knew there was no saving him, determined to cause bloodshed no matter the consequence.

You can hear the soft lilt of bells in the distance, the sky as black as the darkened state of Geta’s eyes—if he had any humanity in him, it was gone.

“You are…broken,” You speak to him, accepting the consequence, even if Acacius failed to save you, “A poor, poor boy with no one to love him—your confidence, it will be your demise.”

The knife knicks your skin, a subtle sting.

“Are you unaware of Caracalla’s plans?” You inquire, privy to Caracalla’s incoherent babbling, often feeling like Geta’s scapegoat, the constant source of blame. It was true, Geta had never accepted responsibility for anything in his life, “You should be careful, Geta. He has a slippery hand and a temper. If given the opportunity, I am sure he would do away with you. I cannot say I blame him—you are a disgrace of an emperor, ruling Rome like it is a playground—”

His eye twitches, the slight hesitation. It gives you enough time to react, twisting his arm away from your neck and on himself, “Unfortunate that you cannot do that as a dead man,” You bite, pushing against the force of the knife, knowing that Geta had no instinct of survival, a feeble man raised in a glass house for the entirety of his life.

The blood quickly pooled in his mouth, pouring out as his body slumped. 

You had prayed it would be slow and painful, that the misery would last.

The rustling near the window pulls your attention, the city quiet and unsuspecting of the violence having just taken place, Acacius' frame obscuring the view of the stars as he climbs through the window.

“Oh, dove,” Acacius sighs, taking in the sight of the slowly dying emperor, his fingers weakly grabbing for you as he choked on his own blood, “you have made a mess.”

“I could not survive him any longer,” You admit, feeling his arm encircling your waist as he tugged you away, “—what—what is to happen now?”

“It is a fate he would have met eventually, if not at the end of my own blade,” Acacius admits, “–—come, we must go. We only have a few moments, my lady.”

Your breath catches at the words, nodding in agreement as you allow him to tug you along, met with a few men on the other side of the wall, catching you as you dropped, draping you in a thick cloak.

“General,” You breathe, sensing his overpowering frame behind you as he grabs the reins of the horse in front of you, assisting you in climbing on the creature, “where are we going?”

“Away,” He promises, “somewhere we can both be free.”

“But, your status—does it mean nothing?”

It never did, not since the minute Geta had stolen you away.

You peer over your shoulder, his eyes soft.

“I love you,” He utters, answering your question without direct confirmation.

And for the first time, you say it as you mean it, feeling the tug at your heart, “I love you, too.”

[keeryhours]

please be gentle (when you’re tearing me apart)

Eddie Munson x female! reader, Steve Harrington x reader

Main Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Summary:

You’re in love with Eddie, Eddie’s in love with someone else. Somehow, he accidentally ends up in a relationship with you anyway.

Warnings:

(18+), SERIOUS angst, there is only pain here, hurt/no comfort or hurt/a little comfort, cheating, pregnancy, pregnancy complications, birth/c section, Eddie is really out of character and is a total dick, Chrissy is out of character and she also sucks (sorry guys), smut, fingering, protected p in v, virgin!eddie, virgin!reader, really awkward first time!

Word Count: 14.6k

A/N:

WOW okay this was totally unexpected to write. The length especially. This is just something depressing for the anti-Valentine’s Day mood. I’ve been nervous to post so I hope you enjoy! Big giant thanks to @punkrockmlchael (who made my beautiful banner again and also beta read), @the-witty-pen-name , @fizzing-imagines, @losingmygrasponreality, @writhingg , and @lesservillain for bouncing ideas and beta reading! I couldn’t have written this without you. Also ignore that there’s only dividers for half the fic, apparently you can only add 10 images to a post 🙃

dividers by @/strangergraphics

Best friends.

That’s what you and Eddie were, and always had been. Growing up as neighbors in Forest Hills, you met when you were 8 and Eddie was 10, after he moved in with his uncle.

To be honest with yourself, you had had a crush on Eddie Munson since the first time you laid eyes on him. A silly childhood crush at first, he was so cute with his curls, short at the time, and it made your heart beat fast whenever you walked to the store together for snacks and he held your hand.

He would play you all kinds of music you’d never heard before, heavy stuff that was totally new to you. You weren’t sure about it at first, but you grew to love it. When he got into D&D, he would talk your ear off about his campaign plans for hours. You didn’t mind. You liked listening to him talk. When he started Hellfire, you were the first member to join. You didn’t know how to play an instrument, but you were Corroded Coffin’s biggest fan.

Eddie was everything to you. He was the first person you went to with any news, the only one you were excited to tell anything and everything to. He took you to see every new slasher movie, bought you your first dice set. He was the first thing you thought about in the morning and the last you thought of at night. At some point, it turned into more than a crush.

At some point, you fell in love.

Eddie was oblivious. He never dated in high school, but that didn’t seem to bother him. You didn’t, either, but it was mostly because you were so preoccupied with loving Eddie. You tried dropping hints, but he never seemed to figure it out. You were too scared to just get it over with and tell him outright.

So, you remained best friends. Just friends.

—

“Are you going to prom this year?” Wayne asked, sipping his beer as he sat relaxed in his recliner. Eddie nursed his own beer, feet up on the coffee table.

“Nah,” Eddie said. “You know that’s…not my thing.”

“You should go at least once,” Wayne said. “Might regret it.”

“I doubt it.”

“I had a great time at my senior prom,” Wayne reminisced, smiling at the memory. “You should give it a shot, Ed. Why don’t you take your little friend from next door?”

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t feel that way about her.”

“You can go as friends,” he pointed out. “I’m sure she’d like that. Girl adores you.”

“I’m pretty sure she has a crush on me,” Eddie winced, sipping his beer. “I don’t want to give her the wrong idea.”

“You don’t have to marry her, Ed. Just show her a good time. You two have been so close for so long, I’m sure she would understand.”

Eddie thought about it. He didn’t want to go to prom, like at all, but he wanted to make his uncle happy. And if he had to go with someone, it might as well be you, his only female friend, right?

So, he approached you at your locker the next day at school. “Hey.”

You turned to him, your face immediately lighting up with a huge smile. “Hey, Eds.”

“I, uh,” Eddie looked around awkwardly. “I just wanted to ask if you’d want to go to…prom with me?”

Your eyes went wide, but inside your heart was thundering out of your chest. Had Eddie really just asked you out? “Prom? Really? I thought you hated prom?”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s my last senior year. Hopefully, at least. I figured I might as well give it a shot. We can pre game and sneak in some alcohol. And if it’s lame, we can ditch.”

You couldn’t wipe the huge smile off your face. You were almost a little concerned at how hard your heart was beating in that moment, like it would give out. “I’d love to go with you.”

Eddie gave you a soft smile. “Cool. I’ll pick you up at 6 that night.”

You watched as Eddie left, heading in the direction of his next class of the day. You waited until he was out of sight before you went sprinting in the direction of Robin’s locker.

You found her there, taking her books out. She startled when you ran up on her, placing her hand over her chest. “Jesus. What’s up with you?”

“Eddie just asked me to prom,” you blurted out. Robin’s jaw dropped open.

“No way!” She exclaimed, her look of shock turning to one of pure excitement. “This is huge. I always knew he was into you.”

You blushed. “I don’t know. I had given up hope of him liking me back. This was so out of the blue. I didn’t even think he wanted to go to prom at all.”

“Maybe he’s just better at hiding his feelings,” Robin offered. “Either way, we’re going dress shopping. Prom is only two weeks away!”

That weekend, Robin convinced her mom to drive the two of you to Indianapolis to go shopping in the big city. You were both giddy with excitement - Robin wasn’t much of a dress girl, and she didn’t have a date. The only person she wanted to take, she couldn’t ask. You were pretty sure Vickie was into girls and Robin in particular, but Robin was still too scared to make the move. You didn’t blame her. It wasn’t like typical rejection if things went wrong. So, instead, Robin was going with a group of girls from the marching band as friends.

Her mom took you to the huge mall, which was much more impressive than Starcourt. It was huge, with a ton of different stores. You made a stop at Camelot Music first, where Robin got a new Blondie tape and you grabbed the new The Smiths record and a Metallica Master of Puppets tape for Eddie, since his had recently broken.

Next was the formal wear store. You were both immediately overwhelmed when you walked in, the racks and racks of fancy dresses as far as the eye could see. All different colors, lengths, and styles. It was…a lot.

“Well…I guess let’s get started,” Robin said, her voice unsure.

You probably tried on 50 dresses each. You and Robin giggled as you tried on the dresses her mom picked for you, big floofy pink and blue monstrosities.

“You look like a marshmallow. Like a big pink marshmallow,” Robin had commented.

“Yeah?” You laughed, gesturing towards her powder blue gown. “Well, you look like a wedding cake.”

An hour and a half into dress shopping, you were both getting tired and totally over it. You had the last gown you’d picked out in your hand, and you told yourself if you hated this one, too, you’d just say fuck it and go to prom in your ripped jeans.

You pulled the dress over your head, smoothing it down your body. When you turned and looked into the mirror, you gasped. You actually looked…beautiful.

The dark purple dress hugged your curves, pushing your breasts up and making them look much sexier (and perkier) than they really were. The skirt fell above your knees, showing off your legs. You did a little twirl, the skirt swishing around your thighs. You loved it, it was by far the best one you’d tried on.

“Are you alive in there?” Robin called from outside the dressing room, and you smiled to yourself.

“I think we have a winner,” you called back.

“Ooh!” Robin said just as you moved the curtain and walked out. You saw Robin standing in a dark blue dress that looked beautiful on her, the skirt long but flattering.

“Oh my god,” she said. “You look stunning! Eddie is going to lose his mind.”

You blushed at the mention of Eddie. “You do too!” And she did. Finally, you had both found something.

After you left the dress shop with your bags in hand, you were both feeling much happier. You made a stop at Afterthoughts, where you found some earrings and a necklace to match your dress.

You couldn’t believe you were going to prom, and with Eddie. It was a dream come true.

You couldn’t wait.

—

Prom night, you were shaking as you got ready. The dress was just as beautiful as you remembered. The jewelry you had picked out matched your dress even better than you’d hoped.

Eddie picked you up right on time. He smiled at you awkwardly when he picked you up, holding a corsage in his hand. “Hey.”

You beamed at him. “Hi. Is…that for me?”

“Oh, yeah.” He looked at it like he had forgotten he had it. “You look pretty,” he told you as he slipped the corsage onto your wrist. You blushed as you pinned the boutonnière to his black suit jacket.

“You look handsome yourself,” you told him shyly.

Eddie drove the two of you to the school. The parking lot was packed with students’ cars and even a few rented limousines. Just as you were about to get out of the van, Eddie stopped you. He reached into his glove compartment and pulled out two black flasks, handing one to you.

“This should make this night a lot more fun, yeah?” He smirked. You smiled back, before making a face as you took a sip of the burning liquid. Eddie laughed, which made you start giggling, too.

You took a photo together at the booth near the gym doors, which Eddie wasn’t super excited about. The next thing he did was head for the food, piling a tiny plate full of appetizers. You followed him, grabbing a cup of punch to help wash down the liquor in your purse.

Eddie wouldn’t dance with you until after he’d finished his flask, claiming it was stupid and he wouldn’t be caught dead dancing at prom. But by the time he finished it, he had enough of a buzz that he didn’t care. You were tipsy, too, and absolutely elated when he stood and took your hand, leading you to the floor just as a slow song came on.

Eddie playfully groaned, rolling his eyes, but he pulled you close to his body anyway. Butterflies took flight in your stomach as he placed his hands on your hips and you wrapped yours around his neck. The two of you swayed together in time to the music. You could not stop smiling. You laid your head on Eddie’s chest, tuning out the music as you listened to his heartbeat.

After prom, you headed back to the van. You’d had the best night of your life, one you would never forget. Yeah, you were both a little bit intoxicated, but you were floating on the clouds for a whole different reason.

“D’you want to come back to my place?” Eddie asked as he started the engine. “We could drink a little more, smoke a joint. Wayne’s working.”

You wanted nothing more. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

At the trailer, Eddie rolled up a thick joint as you gathered the bottles of liquor and shot glasses from the cabinet. Eddie was back in normal clothes, and you’d changed into one of Eddie’s shirts and a pair of his sweatpants that were too big on you.

Eddie sparked up the joint as you poured each of you two shots of tequila. You clinked your glasses together before downing them both. Eddie took the first drag on the joint, his eyes falling closed as he inhaled the thick smoke. He looked gorgeous like this, curls still tamed and framing his face. The smoke escaped through his perfect lips, trailing up and throughout the bedroom. He handed the joint to you, and you gratefully took it, bringing it to your painted lips. Some of your lipstick had rubbed off on the shot glasses, leaving a stain.

As the night went on, the two of you got progressively more drunk and high. By the time it was 2am, the two of you were giggling messes, listening to music over the stereo and talking about the latest campaign. Suddenly, in your drunkenly stoned haze, you remembered the gift stashed in your purse.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, jumping up to grab your small bag. “I forgot. I got you something.”

“You got me something?” Eddie asked, confused, his words slightly slurring together.

You reached into the purse and pulled out the bag from Camelot. You hoped he loved it, because now that it was in your hands, you were suddenly nervous. You turned, smiling softly as you handed Eddie the bag. “I just saw it while I was at the mall with Robin and I thought of you.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at you as he took the bag. He reached inside and pulled out the Metallica tape, a huge grin spreading across his face immediately. “Shit! You didn’t have to do this. But it’s fuckin’ awesome you did.”

You giggled, flopping back onto the bed next to him. You laid with your head on his pillow, smiling up at Eddie from where he sat next to you. “I’m glad you like it. I know yours broke. Probably because you play it all the time.”

Eddie poked you in the side, making you laugh harder. “Shut up, Freak. You love Master of Puppets just as much as I do.”

“That’s true,” you conceded. You looked up at him, his chocolate brown eyes gazing down at you. They sparkled, like his personality was shining its way through. He had a strong nose, kissable lips. God, you wanted to kiss those lips.

Eddie had never realized how pretty you were. He always just saw you as his long time best friend, the girl who definitely crushed on him but he never saw that way. He still didn’t think he had feelings for you, but…you were pretty.

“Have you ever kissed a guy before?” He asked, pushing a section of hair off your shoulder.

You blushed at the question. You didn’t have much experience, your love life was nonexistent. But you had kissed someone, at least. “Yeah. Tommy Hagan in 7th grade.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Tommy Hagan? That dickhead? You never told me that.”

You shrugged, your cheeks red and hot. “It didn’t mean anything. I got invited to Heather Holloway’s birthday party and he was there. We all played spin the bottle. It only lasted two seconds and we never really talked again.” Eddie hummed. “What about you?”

It was Eddie’s turn to look sheepish. “Uh, yeah. A girl at school, Chrissy, in 8th grade. We didn’t date or anything.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked. “Chrissy Cunningham? You didn’t tell me that, either!” He had never mentioned her. You knew it was stupid, but you were struck with jealousy at his words.

“It was nothing,” he said, brushing it off.

“Look at us,” you laughed. “18 and almost 20, and we’re still a couple of virgins.”

Eddie looked down at you, something unfamiliar swimming behind his eyes. He had never wanted to kiss you before this moment, but now... “I mean, we can change that.”

Your heart stopped in your chest. “What do you mean?”

Eddie thought about it for a moment. This could be a point of no return, a step in a direction he didn’t want to take. But in his drunk and high mind…he wanted it. He wanted you.

He leaned forward slowly, so slowly. Your breath hitched in your throat right before his lips pressed against yours. They were just as soft as you always dreamed they were, and your mind went even more hazy from his kisses.

Neither of you were experienced at all and you were both pretty intoxicated, so the kiss was a little awkward and desperate. All tongues and teeth clashing together, hungry for one another. Eddie’s hand slid beneath your t-shirt - his Hellfire shirt - trailing up your smooth skin until he reached your breasts. You hadn’t worn a bra with your dress, so you were bare chested beneath the thin shirt. His calloused fingers delicately grazed your nipples, making you shiver. You’d never been touched there before, never felt anything like this. Being touched by Eddie was so much different than being touched by your own hand.

“I love your tits,” Eddie mumbled against your lips between kisses. You hummed, arching your back into his touch.

“Feels good, Ed,” you moaned quietly, body turning into pure electricity under his wandering touch. Your own hand tangled in the curls at the back of his neck, loving the way your bodies molded together, the feeling of his body finally pressed up against your own.

“Yeah?” He squeezed your breast one more time before his hand moved to your back, sliding down your body until he grabbed your ass, pulling you into him. You gasped, feeling how hard he was through his own sweatpants. “You feel how hard I am?”

“Yeah,” you whispered back. You moved your hand to his chest, sliding it down his body until you reached the tent in his pants. He groaned as you felt him, squeezing his cock through the material.

Eddie sat up, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere on the floor. You eyed his bare chest, the tattoos adorning his pale skin. You traced a finger over the design on the left side of his chest. God, he was so hot.

His hands slid up your shirt, pulling it up and off. His gaze dropped straight to your tits, he was practically drooling. He reached for the waistband of your sweatpants next, pulling them down your body slowly, leaving you in nothing but your panties. You were grateful you picked something pretty, red and lace.

“So sexy,” Eddie moaned. He leaned forward and kissed your stomach, which startled you a little. He trailed kisses up your body until he reached your breasts, where he ran his tongue over one of your nipples before wrapping his lips around it. You moaned as you arched into his touch, his mouth, whatever he would give you.

His hand slid down your body slowly, slowly, until it reached your panties. He slipped beneath them, fingers dipping between your folds. He could feel how insanely wet you were, and it only made his cock harder.

“So wet for me,” he said. “Bet you can’t wait for my cock.”

You whimpered as he pressed a finger against your entrance. Slowly, carefully he pushed it inside, stretching you for the first time. You gasped at the intrusion, but the pain faded quickly. Eddie slowly pumped his long finger in and out of your pussy, pressing against something deep inside that felt incredible as he curled his finger against it. He added a second finger shortly after, and the stretch was more intense, but from the feeling of the size of his cock in your hand, you knew it wouldn’t even be comparable.

Eddie fingered you a little longer, getting you nice and wet and ready for him, before he removed his hand and slipped your panties off. Now bare before him, he drank you in with his hungry eyes. His cock twitched in his pants.

You helped him push them down his hips, and he kicked them off onto the floor. He didn’t have boxers on underneath, and his dick was so much more impressive once fully revealed. It was big enough that it made you feel scared even through your mind haze.

“You can take it,” he assured you, his words still slightly slurred. “I know you can.”

He reached over you into the bedside table and pulled out an unopened box of condoms. “Finally get to use these,” he laughed, taking one out of the box and ripping it open. You watched as he slid the rubber over his hard cock, tip red and glistening. You wished you could have had a taste.

Eddie got in between your legs, kissing all over your neck before meeting your lips again. His tongue pressed into your mouth immediately, attempting to distract you from the pain where he was lining himself up and slowly beginning to push inside.

You whined as he began to fill you, inch by thick inch. When he was fully seated inside he pulled back and snapped his hips back into you, making you gasp. He set a quick pace, desperately rutting into you as he chased his pleasure, his drunken rhythm sloppy and uneven.

You held onto him tightly as he fucked into you, and he groaned into your neck where he had his face buried. “Feels so good,” he moaned, not exactly caring how you felt, only worried about his own quickly impending orgasm. It was his first time and he was not going to last.

“Eddie,” you whined, “you’re so big.”

He groaned at that. “Yeah, baby? You like it?”

“Mmhmm,” you moaned, and it did feel good, but he was also splitting you in half.

“Fuck,” he hissed, “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum.”

He pumped into you just a couple more times before he was stilling, buried to the hilt inside you as he filled the condom. He moaned loudly, body trembling on top of you as he rode out his orgasm. You didn’t get to cum, but you were too drunk to care.

Eddie pulled out, removing the condom and tying it off before tossing it into the trash can. He collapsed onto the bed next to you, his naked body sweaty, chest heaving.

“That was…good,” you said, not knowing if it was or not. You were happy to have lost your virginity to Eddie, and the whole night had been a dream. But he hadn’t exactly cared about your pleasure. You waited for Eddie to reply, to say anything, but nothing came.

He was already snoring.

—

The unbearably bright light shining through the window around his curtains is the first thing Eddie experienced the next morning. It woke him up, but he only squeezed his eyes shut tighter, groaning as the light made his pounding headache infinitely worse. Fuck, he drank way too much last night.

He barely even remembered it. He remembered the prom, he remembered drinking a lot, doing shots, and smoking a joint. He remembered you, but his memory was hazy. How did you get home anyway? He didn’t remember driving you home after prom.

Eddie stretched, his muscles stiff. He was naked beneath his blanket, which wasn’t entirely unusual. He probably just didn’t feel like changing once he got his suit off.

Eventually he figured he should get out of bed. He rolled over and stood with another old man groan. Fuck, he had to cut back on the drinking, because he definitely felt a lot older than 19 right now.

He pulled on some boxers and a pair of sweatpants he found on the floor, remaining shirtless. Wayne would be passed out in his own bedroom after a long night of work at the plant. But Eddie was starving, and he needed something for that headache.

When he stepped out of the room, the first thing he noticed was the smell. Something delicious was wafting from the kitchen, the smell of bacon overpowering some other food scents. That was weird. Wayne didn’t cook breakfast, not the morning after a work night. He walked down the hall cautiously, brows furrowed as he neared the end of the hallway. He turned the corner, and froze.

You were there in the kitchen, expertly flipping a pancake in a pan. A plate sat on the counter next to you filled with bacon, and another pan on the next burner was cooking scrambled eggs. Oh, and you were dressed in nothing but Eddie’s oversized t-shirt and your underwear.

Oh shit, Eddie thought. What the fuck did I do?

The floor creaked as he stepped into the kitchen, and you turned around, a smile spreading across your lips at the sight of him. “Hey, sleepyhead. I made us some breakfast. Thought you could use something on your stomach.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say or do. Did he sleep with you? Oh god. He was going to be sick. “Uh, good morning. You, uh, didn’t have to do all this.”

He watched as you plated the finished pancakes and eggs. “I thought we could both use a big breakfast after last night,” you said, giving him a smirk. Oh, shit. He did sleep with you last night. He drunkenly lost his virginity after prom, to you.

Fuck. He was a fucking idiot.

You started making plates for the both of you. “I set out a water bottle and some Tylenol for you over there,” you said, nodding to the corner of the counter. Eddie took the medicine immediately, desperate for some relief from his unbearable headache. Now he wasn’t sure what was making it worse, the hangover or the knowledge of what he’d done.

He sat down across from you at the small table. He didn’t know what to say. Your friendship would never be the same after this. He knew you liked him, he didn’t like you, then he slept with you. Now he had to crush your heart. He really felt like he was going to be sick.

“Did you sleep okay?” You finally asked as the two of you ate, breaking the silence.

“Huh?” Eddie snapped back to reality. “Oh. Yeah.”

You smiled softly at him. You figured he was just still cloudy from the weed. “I had a good time last night.”

“Yeah…” Eddie said. “Me too.”

Your face lit up at that, and he could have slapped himself. He didn’t mean that. He didn’t even remember the sex. He was not doing a good job of not leading you on. “Listen,” he said, “about that-“

“It was really good,” you said. Eddie’s watched as your cheeks turned red and you looked down at your plate. “Sorry. I just meant…I enjoyed it. Being with you.”

Eddie had suspected, known even, that you had a crush on him, but this was the first time you’d ever admitted it out loud. Eddie was really going to have to stomp on your heart to put an end to those thoughts, and it was all his fault. He never should have brought you home after prom. “Look, I-“

“I didn’t think you liked me back,” you continued, rambling nervously, excitedly. “I…to be honest with you I’ve had a crush on you for years, but I was always too scared to tell you. But you never seemed like you were into me…until last night.” You giggled, covering your mouth. “I can’t believe we’re together now.”

Together?

Oh, fuck. He couldn’t do this. He could not do this. He couldn’t crush your spirit, wipe that elated smile off your face. He’d never seen you look so happy. He felt like the biggest asshole.

“Oh, yeah,” he said instead. “Um, me either.”

“I can’t wait to tell Robin,” you continued. “She’s going to freak.”

—

Eddie couldn’t believe he had gotten himself into this situation.

Sure, you were his best friend so he liked your personality, and it’s not like you weren’t cute, but he just didn’t have feelings for you in the way you did for him. But now he had slept with you and you thought he liked you back. He had somehow, some way, become your actual boyfriend.

“I thought you didn’t like her like that?” Gareth asked the next school day after prom at lunch. You were sitting with Robin today. You often bounced between the marching band table and the Hellfire table.

“I don’t,” Eddie said simply.

Gareth, Jeff, and Grant looked at him like he was crazy. “Then how…why…?”

Eddie slammed his hand on the table. “Stop grilling me, okay?”

“Someone’s cranky,” Jeff muttered, turning back to his lunch tray in front of him.

“Yeah, you’re in a pretty shitty mood to be the only one of us to lose his virginity and get a girlfriend,” Grant commented. Gareth and Jeff agreed, nodding along.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie muttered. “Would be nice if it was with someone I’m actually into.”

“Harsh,” Gareth tsked. “You should be honest with her. You’re just leading her on.”

“I can’t.” Eddie buried his face in his hands, exasperated and stressed. “It’s gone too far. She thinks I’m her boyfriend. She thinks I like her back. I can’t crush her like that.”

The other three boys exchanged a look. “So…you’re just gonna marry her?” Grant asked.

Eddie froze. That is where this would eventually lead if he didn’t turn it around. But he was scared. He couldn’t bring himself to burst your bubble. “I’ll figure something out.”

As lunch was ending, Eddie jolted when you came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, babe,” you giggled. “How was lunch?”

“Good,” Eddie said, giving each Hellfire boy a look that said don’t say or do a damn thing.

“You guys are so cute,” Robin said, holding her hands over her chest as she tilted her head to the side with a smile. “I’m so happy you’re finally together.”

Eddie felt sick. Just like he had all weekend, since the morning after prom. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m a lucky guy.”

Your whole face lit up with a smile. “I was thinking maybe we could hang out after school. Do our homework and work on the Curse of Vecna.”

Eddie groaned internally. This was such a disaster. “Sure.”

That day after school Eddie drove you back to his place. He reluctantly did his homework with you, mostly copying your answers rather than actually learning anything. Then the two of you laid on his bed and made out.

Hey, if he was going to be stuck in this relationship with someone he didn’t actually care for, the least he could do was take advantage of the benefits.

—

You spent four years with Eddie before you started noticing something was off.

It was the scent you started noticing on his clothes at first, like flowers and vanilla. You lifted his shirt from the laundry, the unexpected smell hitting you. You didn’t own anything that smelled like this, and Eddie certainly didn’t. You knew the smell of his cheap cologne better than anything, the amount of times you’d laid your head on his chest and smelled that distinctly Eddie scent. Something was wrong.

When you confronted him about it, he brushed it off. “It’s this new girl at work. Her perfume is so strong, everyone smells like it.”

You accepted the answer for the time being. But then there were other things you began to notice. A scrunchie that definitely didn’t belong to you on the floor of the passenger side of his van. A condom wrapper in the bathroom trash after you’d been out of town for the weekend. And finally, a pair of pink panties stuffed into the back pocket of his jeans that were so clearly not yours it was nearly comical if it hadn’t made you want to die.

When you confronted him about it the next time, it was with tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat. “Eddie,” you said, your voice cracking as you tossed the panties onto the floor in front of where he sat on the couch. “What are these?”

Eddie knew he had been caught. There was no getting out of it this time. You didn’t own any underwear like that, and it was the wrong size. How could he have been so stupid to have kept the panties? “I…”

“Really?” You sobbed. “You have nothing to say?”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.” Eddie looked down at his hands. “Yeah, I’ve been sleeping with someone else.”

Even though you already knew his words were true, they still hit you right in the heart. You could feel it cracking, could feel the fault lines forming, the blood and life seeping out of it. “With who?” You asked, barely audible. You weren’t sure if you wanted the answer, but you needed it.

“That’s not important-“

“It is important,” you said. “It’s important to me.”

Eddie didn’t respond at first. He didn’t want to respond. “Chrissy Cunningham,” he answered reluctantly at last. “But don’t pull her into this, she doesn’t deserve to be-“

“Chrissy Cunningham?” You scoffed. “Eddie, we’ve been together for four years. Chrissy knows we’re together. So she was just fine sleeping with a guy she knew was taken?” You laughed humorlessly through the tears. “Wow. You guys are perfect for each other, then.”

Eddie shook his head. “Don’t do that, man, she-“

“‘Man’?” You couldn’t believe the conversation you were having. “Wow, I sure got demoted from baby fast, huh?”

He rubbed his hands over his face. “Please. I don’t wanna do this. I don’t feel like doing this.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have cheated!” You yelled back. “Why would you do this? How could you do this to me? I thought you loved me.”

Eddie mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t catch.

“What?” You asked. “I can’t hear you. Just fucking tell me. Why would you do this to me?”

When Eddie looked up at you, his eyes were full of anger, flames flickering behind his normally sweet doe eyes. The ones you had gazed into, taken comfort in so many times. When he opened his mouth, nothing but poison seeped out.

“Because I never loved you!” Eddie yelled, hands running through his hair to the point he was practically pulling it out. You had never seen him so upset. “Fuck! I went out with you because we were friends and I felt bad, and by the time we’d been together for months it was too late. I never liked you back like that. That’s the truth, finally.”

His words hit you like a shot to the chest. You stared at him with your lips parted, staggering gasps being dragged into your lungs. You shook uncontrollably as if it were suddenly freezing. But the tears didn’t yet fall. You felt like you might be in shock. “How…”

“How did I pretend to be in love with you?” He scoffed. “I didn’t do a very good job of it, but it doesn’t seem like you ever noticed. You were so blinded by who you wanted me to be, you couldn’t see what was right in front of you. Hey, as long as I came home and fucked you before passing out next to you, you just took it.” He laughed, a cruel, sinister laugh. “You just let me treat you like shit. Like you have no respect for yourself, or were just that obsessed with me.”

You didn’t even know who this was in front of you right now. This person who looked like Eddie, sounded like Eddie, but was spewing such horrible, hurtful words that Eddie never would. You didn’t recognize him at all. You wanted to blame his words on his heightened emotions, but you could tell everything he said was true. Especially with the cheating to back it up.

That’s not how you treated someone you cared about.

“So you just led me on for four years instead of telling me?” You asked. There was no fight behind your voice like there was in his. Only hurt and defeat. “Eddie…even before all this, you were my best friend. How could you do this to me?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. Because he was a selfish idiot coward? That was the truth. “Look, me and Chrissy- it just happened. It wasn’t supposed to, but it did. She came in to the Hideout, we got to talking-“

“And you fucked her?” You finished for him.

He just looked at you. “Yeah.”

The truth was, Eddie felt bad. He knew he had fucked up astronomically bad. He had led you on, used your body, betrayed you. Wasted four years of your life. He knew you thought he was the one, he knew you were waiting for a proposal that was never going to come. It was his fault things had gotten this far.

Maybe he thought he could fake it ‘til he made it. Maybe he thought if he pretended to be into you, eventually he would be. But that never happened.

And now you were crying, hard. His chest ached for some reason, even though he had no right to hurt for what he had done to you. He deserved to feel like shit.

He wasn’t prepared for the next words that came out of your mouth.

“I’m pregnant, Eddie,” you said, eyes squeezed shut as if that would stop the torrent of tears currently streaming down your face. There was no response. You had to force yourself to open your eyes and look, wondering if he was even still there.

He was. He stared at you, brown eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open. “You’re- no.”

“I am,” you said, voice hoarse from crying. “I…”

Eddie shook his head. “No. No, no, no. This is not happening. It’s not fucking happening.”

You only cried harder. The pregnancy hormones had nothing to do with this; this was pure devastation, pure heartbreak. Your heart felt like it had crumbled in your chest and there was nothing left to repair even if you could.

“Let me see the test,” he said, holding a hand out.

“Why would I lie?” You asked, voice weak. You were so emotionally worn out, you felt like you could sleep for weeks. Months. Years. You wanted to.

“Because you want me to stay with you?” He scoffed. “Look, I’m not saying you’re lying, but I want to see to be sure.”

You just stared at him. Finally, you said “Fine,” going into your shared bedroom and coming out with a piece of paper with your office visit report. “I went to the doctor. Here.”

Eddie took the paper from your hands, examining it carefully. Sure enough, under “Reason for Visit/Diagnosis”, it said “Pregnancy - 8 weeks”.

“Christ,” Eddie said. He rubbed his hands over his face, like he was trying to erase the information from his brain. He was panicked. He couldn’t be a dad. Not right now, maybe not ever. He didn’t even know if he wanted kids. And with you? His soon to be ex girlfriend who he had treated like shit and didn’t love? “I mean fuck, man. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” you said. Your voice was small, like all the fight had left you.

Eddie felt like he had ruined his life. For one thing, you were both still so young. That was without even mentioning the mess of a ‘relationship’ he had gotten himself involved in, the fact that it would never work out even if he wanted it to because he didn’t have feelings for you, and now he was standing here crushing his pregnant girlfriend’s heart. Like an asshole.

He was an asshole, and he knew it.

“Look,” he said finally. “If there’s really a kid-“

“There is.”

Eddie continued. “I’m not gonna abandon it. I’ll…be here. I’ll pay child support, I want to share custody, I want to be involved.”

You nodded. At least there was that, you supposed. As heart broken as you were, as much as you felt like going to sleep and never waking up again, you couldn’t bear the thought of Eddie leaving both of you. This baby deserved better.

“Look, I…I need some time. I’m gonna go stay with Wayne for a little while. Until I can get my own place.” Eddie looked at you with pity now, the news of the pregnancy dousing the fire of his earlier cruelty. “You can keep the apartment. We’ve got the guest room for the baby, unless you decide to move out.”

You just nodded again. “Okay, Eddie.”

The two of you looked at each other. This wasn’t just the end of your apparent farce of a relationship, but also of your nearly lifelong friendship. Things between you and Eddie would never be the same again. He had taken your heart you gave to him and stomped on it, spit on it.

That was the thing you couldn’t get past. He hadn’t just rejected you, he had destroyed you. The cheating, the lying. Playing you like a fucking game. Like you meant nothing not just to him, but at all. You didn’t know how you’d ever learn to trust again, or if you even wanted to. Eddie slept on the couch that night, too late at night to drive to Wayne’s.

When you woke up the next morning, he was gone.

—

Your pregnancy was difficult. You had severe morning sickness in the beginning - hyperemesis gravidarum, your doctor called it. You struggled to keep any food down, and ended up hospitalized for fluids multiple times. Your doctor was concerned and considered you a high risk pregnancy. You went from monthly doctor visits to weekly. You felt pretty sure your emotional devastation wasn’t helping your physical health whatsoever.

Eddie was helpful, at least. He called you every couple of days to see how you were doing and if you needed anything. He remembered your appointment days and called to ask what the doctor said. He shopped for your groceries for you and dropped them off at the house. It would have felt nice, if you didn’t know he was only doing it for the baby and not you, and if you didn’t know he was still sleeping with Chrissy.

You went through most of the pregnancy alone. At 16 weeks, you noticed a bump for the first time, standing in front of your full length mirror as you got ready for work. It took you by surprise, this little baby bump that seemed to have popped up overnight. You ran your hand over the skin there, surprised by how firm it felt. There was really a little baby in there.

You had an ultrasound that afternoon. You were thrilled to see the baby, one of the only things you looked forward to anymore. The technician showed you your baby, thriving and wiggling around in there. It made your heart swell. She measured the heartbeat and played it out loud, the little whoosh whoosh whoosh comforting.

Eddie came to the apartment that evening to bring you the baby swing he had bought. You were in the kitchen cooking yourself chicken alfredo for dinner, wearing a thin tank top and your short sleep shorts. Eddie let himself in, since he still had a key in case of emergencies. You weren’t surprised to hear him coming in since he’d told you he’d be over.

You heard his footsteps heading into the kitchen, then - “Woah.”

You turned from where you’d been stirring the sauce, raising an eyebrow at him. “What?”

He gestured towards your stomach. “You, uh…your…”

You laughed lightly. “The bump? Yeah, that’s new.”

Eddie walked over towards you, leaning against the counter next to the stove. He didn’t know how to feel about it. It was strange to see, and it made him feel weird in his chest. Something he’d never felt before. “It’s…it’s cute. You look cute.”

You laughed again. “I’m about to get a lot bigger.”

The two of you stood in silence for a minute. Then, finally, Eddie worked up the courage to ask - “Can I…can I feel?”

You were surprised by the question. Sure, Eddie had been pretty devoted to this baby during the pregnancy, but it still caught you off guard. “Oh. Sure.”

You turned and he walked up to you cautiously. He raised his hands, slowly moving them towards you as he looked up at you for confirmation it was still okay. Finally he placed his hands on your belly, feeling the firm bump beneath his hands. It was real. He knew it was real, but now it was real.

“Wow,” he said after a minute. “That’s…wow.” He gently rubbed the bump, in shock that that was his child beneath his hand.

“I got an ultrasound today,” you said. “Want to see?”

“Of course,” he answered immediately. He watched as you headed into the living room, already developing the slightest little waddle. He couldn’t help but smile.

You pulled the printed photos from your purse, bringing them over. Eddie gently took them from your hands. “Holy shit!” He said, laughing as he closely examined the photos. “It really looks like a little baby now instead of a blob.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a smile. “They said we’d find out if it’s a boy or a girl at the next one. At 20 weeks.”

Eddie’s eyes darted up to you. “Really? Can I…go?”

You raised your eyebrows. “Really? You want to come with me to the appointment?”

“Yeah, of course. I want to know what we’re having. I want to be there myself.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, thinking about it. “How will Chrissy feel about that?”

Eddie’s expression hardened for the first time since he’d come over. “I can do whatever I want. And we’re not talking about her right now.”

You rolled your eyes, heading back into the kitchen to tend to your dinner. “I guess you can come, Eddie. It’s your baby too. But don’t bring her.”

“I’m not,” he assured you. You thought he’d have to be a fucking idiot to bring her, anyway. “I just want to be there.”

You felt like you couldn’t take that from him. If he wanted to be an involved father, he could. You encouraged that, in fact. This baby didn’t deserve to be born into the mess that was your relationship, or what used to be your relationship. Your issues with Eddie needed to be put aside for the sake of your child.

So, four weeks later, you waddled your 20 week pregnant self down the stairs of your apartment complex and into Eddie’s van where he sat idling, waiting to pick you up. He helped you climb in, and you waved him off when he tried to buckle you up. “I’ve got it, Eddie. I’m not totally helpless.”

“I know,” he said, “I just want to help.”

You rode to the doctor’s office without speaking, the only sounds being the heavy music playing over the stereo. You couldn’t stand it. Since the break up, you couldn’t listen to Eddie’s music anymore. Too many memories, too many associations.

When he pulled up at the office, he hopped out quickly to run around and offer you a hand as you carefully climbed down. The bump was significantly bigger already, it was in the way and threw off your center of balance. And Eddie was not about to let you fall and hurt yourself and the baby.

You had grown to know the staff at the office since you were there so often. They greeted you by name the second you walked in, looking pleased to see you. In the exam room, Eddie sat in the visitor’s chair, looking as awkward as he felt.

When the tech walked in, she barely managed to contain the surprise on her face to see Eddie with you. You had been to every appointment alone, and they knew you weren’t together with the father. But she quickly plastered a smile to her face, walking over to you.

“Are you excited?” She asked you. “It’s a big day!”

“So excited,” you giggled. “I’m ready to know.”

You laid back and lifted your shirt up and she squirted the cold gel onto your belly, your least favorite part. She placed the wand on your stomach and began moving it around. There was a screen only she could see, and a bigger screen facing you and Eddie that showed the baby.

The little wiggling baby popped up on the screen, moving all around. You smiled, relieved to see the little guy or girl was doing well. You always worried between ultrasounds that something would happen.

The two of you watched as the tech examined and measured the various body parts, making notes in your chart as she performed the exam. Then, finally, it was time.

“Okay,” she said. “Everything looks great! Do you want to know what you’re having?”

“Yes,” you and Eddie answered immediately at the same exact time. You glanced at each other, laughing lightly.

You were nervous. You weren’t sure why. You really didn’t have a preference for the baby’s sex, but this was a huge deal. This made it real, really real. The baby was about to go from “the baby” to your son or daughter. They would have a name, you would be able to shop more. This was a huge moment, and your heart thumped hard in your chest.

She moved the wand a little, looking where she needed to look. She smiled - “It’s a healthy baby girl.”

You choked out a light sob, hands moving up to cover your mouth. You couldn’t believe it. A baby girl, a daughter. Your daughter. Thoughts flashed through your mind of pink little dresses, playing dolls, dance recitals and late night dance parties. Or maybe she would be more of a tomboy, playing sports and getting dirty. You would love her no matter who she turned out to be.

Eddie stared at the screen in awe. A daughter. He was having a daughter. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t have a preference for the gender either, but hearing it was a girl, it just felt right. Like this was the child he was meant to have, this was the perfect outcome. His body overflowed with the love he felt for this tiny person already. He nearly reached over and grabbed your hand, but thought better of it. It wasn’t his hand to hold anymore.

You left the appointment in high spirits with a stack of ultrasound photos in your hand. You kept looking them over, amazed at how much the baby looked like a baby. Just as you were about to get back in the van, you felt something move that made you gasp and nearly drop your bag.

“What??” Eddie asked, immediately by your side. “Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

You looked up at him wide eyed. “I…” You were about to say something else when you felt the movement again. You quickly grabbed Eddie’s hand and placed it on your stomach, right where you felt it.

He looked at you strangely, but kept his hand there. Then, a second later - another kick, right where Eddie’s hand lay.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed, jerking his hand back out of instinct before putting it back. “Did she just kick?”

“I think so,” you said, an incredulous giggle in your voice.

“She’s strong,” Eddie commented with a smile. He gently rubbed his hand over the bump. “My girl. Gonna be a soccer player or something. Or just kick some serious ass.”

You laughed, your hand resting next to Eddie’s. “This has been the best day I’ve had in months.”

Eddie felt a pang of guilt at that. He knew he was the reason for your sadness, for your pain. And now here you were, giving him the greatest gift he could dream of, even if it’s one he didn’t expect. He couldn’t wait for this baby to be here.

Robin threw you a baby shower when you were 33 weeks pregnant. You were huge and uncomfortable, and still mentally a disaster. But Robin had put in so much work you were at least going to make an attempt to enjoy yourself.

She had taken you shopping for a dress, and you’d landed on a long, light pink one with a hem right beneath your breasts, the rest of the dress draped over your belly. It made you feel pretty, even if gigantic.

When you and Robin walked in, the party was already underway, your friends, family, and acquaintances mingling around, eating from the buffet table. There was a table surrounded and piled high with gifts, a rocking chair with a bow on it sitting next to it.

“Oh my god, Robs,” you said, tears springing to your eyes. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course I did,” she said, nudging your arm. “You deserve it, babes. You and her both.” She placed a hand over your belly, making you smile. “You’ve been put through hell this pregnancy, the least I can do is give you a good party.”

Robin led you over to the buffet table, where Steve Harrington was standing. You furrowed your brows at your best friend as you walked, and she gave you a sheepish smile and shrug.

“He’s different now,” she said. You couldn’t believe your ears. “He’s not King Steve anymore. And he helped me out a ton with this party. He’s kind of a dingus, but he’s cool.”

Steve gave you a kind smile as you approached. “Hey,” he said once you’d both reached him, standing up straight. “Congratulations. You look beautiful.”

You blushed, because you certainly didn’t expect him to say that. “I’m huge,” you said.

Steve chuckled. “Well, you’re growing a whole human. Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s hard work.”

You were completely shocked that Steve was being so nice to you. He had never been mean to you, but he definitely saw you and Eddie as Freaks in high school, and never gave you or Robin the time of day. He really did seem different.

“Come on,” Robin said, pulling gently on your arm. “Let’s get you and that baby something to eat. It’s gonna be a great party.”

And it was a good party. You were having a good time talking with your guests, everyone wanting to feel the baby and asking you questions. The food was good, too, you thought as you filled your third plate in 30 minutes. You were having a good time.

That is, until the door opened and two guests walked in late.

Eddie walked in, looking awkward, a gift bag in hand. He knew a good number of the people in attendance hated him, and for good reason. The fact that Eddie showed up to your party wasn’t the bad part. You were on okay terms. It was the fact that he walked in, hand in hand with Chrissy Cunningham.

Your heart stopped in your chest. You hated that you still weren’t over Eddie, but it was the truth. You felt like you would throw up at the sight.

“Oh, fuck no,” Robin muttered under her breath from next to you, before she stood tall and started walking over to them with purpose.

“Robs, wait!” You called, following after her, but Robin’s long strides were much faster than your 8 month pregnant waddle. Robin was already there when you reached the three, her finger pointed in Eddie’s face.

“And what do you think gives you the right to come marching into her party with your little girlfriend?” She was yelling, fury in her eyes like you’d never seen. “What the fuck is wrong with you??”

“Robin-“ you started, but she wasn’t even hearing you.

“You are the scum of the fucking earth,” she said to Eddie. “You don’t belong here. You don’t belong outside enjoying the day. You belong in a cave.”

Eddie was looking at her with an irritated expression on his face. Chrissy stood next to him, her big eyes wide as she held onto his arm. It made you feel so much worse.

“This is my daughter’s baby shower,” he said. “I have a right to be here.”

“No, this is her shower.” Robin gestured towards where you stood slightly behind her without even turning around. “This is for her. She has been through hell, and it’s entirely your fault. The only thing you did besides ruin her life is put the damn baby in her. Good job, Eddie!”

Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Down, guard dog, this has nothing to do with you. Get out of my face. I’m here to celebrate my daughter. Not yours.”

“And you had to bring your skank with you?”

Both you and Chrissy gasped. You had never heard her speak that way before. Eddie’s eyes darkened. “Don’t talk about her like that. She has nothing to do with this.”

“She slept with you multiple times while knowing you were in a relationship. So yeah, she’s a skank, and you’re a slut too. I guess you guys are made for each other.”

“Babe, why don’t we just go-“ Chrissy said softly.

“Babe,” Robin mocked. “How cute.”

“I’m not leaving,” Eddie said, looking from Chrissy to Robin, and finally to you. “I deserve to be here. So get over yourself.”

“I think you should leave, Eddie.”

You turned as you all looked behind you, where Steve had walked up. His expression was serious, and Eddie narrowed his eyes at him.

“This doesn’t concern you, Harrington.”

“Well, it kind of does,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “These are my friends. I helped organize the party. No one would have cared if you wanted to be here, but you had to go and bring your girlfriend to rub in her face?”

Eddie was taken aback. He couldn’t believe Steve Harrington was here and had the nerve to talk to him and his girlfriend this way. He was about to say something rude back when you spoke up.

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice timid. “They can stay.”

Steve and Robin looked at you with concern etched on both of their faces. “Are you sure?” Steve asked quietly. “Robin told me your pregnancy has been complicated. You don’t need any extra stress.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated. You weren’t entirely sure if you were really okay with it, but you didn’t want drama at your baby shower. At least, not any more drama than what had already been caused.

Steve looked at you, giving you any chance to change your mind, but you didn’t say anything else. Steve looked at Eddie and Chrissy. “She says you can stay, you can stay.”

The rest of the party was admittedly very awkward. Eddie kind of felt like shit - he knew he shouldn’t have brought Chrissy here. It was the wrong move. He thought maybe it would be alright, but the second he walked in the door he knew what a mistake it had been.

When it was time for gifts, you felt a little uncomfortable. Even as a child you had never enjoyed the whole “opening gifts in front of the whole guest list” part of parties, but you knew your older relatives would find it rude if you didn’t.

You got a lot of lovely gifts - lots of girly clothes and tiny dresses, bottles, burp cloths, a baby monitor, baby soap and towels, health stuff, toys, all kinds of things. You even got some bigger items, like a high chair, a car seat, and a stroller. You were so grateful you teared up multiple times. As a single mom, you had been worried sick about how you’d afford a lot of this stuff.

When you opened Eddie’s gift, it was just a piece of paper inside the bag. You were confused, until you took the paper out and saw the photo of the crib you had been eyeing on it, and a note that he had ordered it for you. Cue the waterworks.

Chrissy’s gift was probably the ugliest baby clothes you’d ever seen in size 24m and a toy she wouldn’t be able to play with for years. You wanted to throw the gift back in her face. She did that shit on purpose.

The rest of the party went well. You managed to avoid Chrissy, or maybe she was avoiding you. You gave each of your friends and family hugs as they left when the party was over, thanking them for coming and for their gifts.

Eddie gave you a nod as he and Chrissy left. He was always so much more pleasant when he wasn’t with her. You could always tell when she was in his ear, too, because he would start stupid arguments and stress you out. You were tired of Chrissy in your business. You never wanted to see her for the rest of your life.

But that was Eddie’s girlfriend, the girl he actually liked, and Eddie was this baby’s father. So you supposed you’d have to live with her.

At 33 weeks, days after the shower, you noticed horrible swelling in your hands and feet. More than the normal pregnancy swelling. You brought it up at your doctor’s appointment, and she was immediately concerned.

Your blood pressure was through the roof. You were diagnosed with pre eclampsia and told to head straight to the hospital to be admitted.

You cried on the way to the car. This whole pregnancy had been hell, and as excited as you were to meet the baby, you were miserable. And it wasn’t time for her to come yet. You were terrified.

You drove around the corner to the hospital’s main entrance, walking inside and giving the receptionist the paper from your doctor. They had you upstairs and set up in bed in no time, hooked up to monitors and put on strict bed rest.

The first thing you did once you were settled was grab the bedside phone. You dialed Robin’s number first, filling her in through tears. She promised to be over right after work with movies to watch, wanting to make you as comfortable as possible while you had to be in the hospital.

Next, you called Eddie.

“Hello?” He answered, a laugh in his voice, and you could hear Chrissy giggling in the background. It made you feel infinitely worse.

“Eddie. It’s me.” It was obvious in your voice that you’d been crying.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, suddenly serious. “Is it the baby? Is she coming? It’s too early!”

You sniffled. “Not yet. But I have pre eclampsia. They hospitalized me and put me on bed rest until the baby is born.”

“Shit,” Eddie hissed. “Do you, uh…do you need me?”

“Can you run by the apartment and grab my bag I packed?” You asked. “Maybe throw some extra stuff in there since I’m going to be here for a while?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The next week in the hospital was a long one. You were bored to death, even with Robin and Steve coming by every day after work and on their days off. They would bring different movies from Family Video every day, and they had bought you a collection of board games to play together.

At 34 weeks, things took a turn for the worse.

Your water broke and labor began far too early. You were in a panic. Robin had been visiting at the time, and next thing you knew, doctors and nurses were rushing in, checking your vitals and fussing over you. The contractions started immediately, coming strong and fast.

“Call Eddie!” You called to a shocked Robin, who froze for only a few seconds before dashing for the phone.

By the time Eddie sprinted through the door, breathless and mercilessly alone, things were well underway. Labor had set in fast, and the baby’s vitals were dropping. They had to get her out as soon as possible.

“We’re going to be taking you back for a C section, okay?” The doctor told you kindly, but you could hear the seriousness of the situation in his tone. “We need to get this baby out right now.”

You had never been more terrified in your life. You could not lose this baby. You didn’t care much about your own well-being, but losing this baby would kill you.

“Can I come?” Eddie asked, his voice shaking. He was equally terrified. This baby, his daughter, meant the world to him already and she wasn’t even here yet. He needed both of you to be okay.

“Yes, you’ll just have to change into a pair of scrubs,” the doctor said. “One of the nurses will bring you some then bring you to the OR. We just need to get her in there and prepped immediately.”

Eddie watched as they wheeled you from the room quickly, disappearing down the hall with an urgency that made him sick to his stomach. Just as he’d been told, a nurse walked up with a pair of surgical scrubs and a hair cap, snapping him out of his internal panic.

He went into the bathroom and changed into the scrubs, pulling his hair up into a bun and putting the cap on. He slipped the shoe covers on last. He felt like he looked ridiculous, but he really didn’t have time to think about that right now.

Inside the operating room, you laid on a table with your arms strapped down out to the side. You also wore a cap over your hair, and a large drape curtained off everything below your chest.

“Hey,” you said, sounding nice and calm and a little out of it. “You came.”

“Of course I came,” Eddie said. He stood next to you as the doctor got to work. He did not want to think about what was going on behind that curtain.

It wasn’t long before the doctor said “Here she is!” and the next thing Eddie knew, he heard a shrill cry. It made his heart stutter in his chest, he lost his breath. Moments later one of the nurses came around with the tiniest baby Eddie had ever seen, wrapped in a hospital blanket. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His child.

You gazed at the tiny bundle in the nurse’s arms. You were so drugged up you couldn’t really comprehend the moment, but you knew that tiny bundle was your daughter. Here at last. And alive, healthy. Pink skin and a head full of brown hair.

“Would you like to hold her?” The nurse asked as the doctor went to work on stitching you up. “We have to get her to the NICU, so only for a moment. I’m sorry.”

The NICU. Eddie didn’t want to think too hard about that. “Yes, I want to hold her.” Eddie held out his arms and the nurse gently placed the tiny baby in them.

She was so small. She felt like glass, like the most fragile thing in the world. He took in every aspect of her appearance, from her hair that matched his, to her tiny button nose, her little pink lips. Her eyes were closed, so he didn’t get to see her eye color.

He moved over to you and held the baby down for you to see. “Here she is,” he whispered to you. “Our baby girl.”

You smiled a loopy smile, but you could feel the love practically bursting out of your chest. “Hi, Lottie,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “Charlotte Mae.”

Charlotte did great, and had none of the problems common in premature babies. It was a miracle, and you were so grateful.

There was a knock at your door before it opened. Robin walked in, Steve trailing behind her. They both had smiles on their faces and held gift bags. Steve held a bouquet of beautiful flowers. He wore a yellow sweater and jeans, his long hair styled. You couldn’t help but notice how cute he was.

“Hey, mama, how are you feeling?” Robin greeted, coming over and giving you a kiss on the cheek. She looked down at the sleeping baby in your arms. “Hi, Lottie!”

“We’re doing good,” you said, a tired smile on your face. Eddie had been over earlier, but had to leave when Chrissy called the hospital phone, demanding he come home. It had made your chest ache, especially when he obeyed.

“Hey,” Steve said, moving to your other side. He held up the flowers. “I, uh, brought these for you.”

“Had the idea, picked them out, and bought them himself,” Robin said, wiggling her eyebrows.

The way Steve was looking at you did something to you, something felt deep in your chest. “Thank you,” you smiled at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“We also brought you these,” Robin said, placing both gift bags on your lap. One was purple with pink tissue paper, and the other was blue with yellow paper. “Can Auntie Robs hold her now?”

“Of course,” you replied, gently passing the tiny bundle into Robin’s waiting arms. She held the baby like a natural, gently rocking her.

You reached for the purple bag first. You pulled the paper out and found a comfy pair of pajamas for yourself, and a matching set for Charlotte. There was a card inside that read, I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be the best mom ever! Love, Auntie Robs.

You almost teared up, looking at Robin. “Thank you,” you said. “This means so much.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “Now open Steve’s!”

You laughed as you grabbed the blue bag and removed the paper. Inside you found an assortment of candy, and a small teddy bear. A card inside read Motherhood looks beautiful on you. You’re going to rock it. I’m glad we’ve become friends. Love, Steve.

“How did you know I have a sweet tooth?” You asked Steve with a laugh. You couldn’t focus on his note right now unless you really wanted to cry.

“Robin,” he laughed. “She filled me in.”

Robin and Steve visited for as long as they could, taking turns holding Charlotte and helping to take care of both her and you. You were so grateful to have such support, such amazing friends.

Custody was a whole other ordeal. You and Eddie had agreed that he would get Charlotte every other weekend, starting when she was 5 months old and could take a bottle when she was with Eddie since you were breastfeeding.

It worked out, Eddie didn’t argue with you much unless Chrissy started convincing him to, as she sometimes did. He started missing his scheduled weekends, claiming plans with Chrissy. The thing is that Chrissy knew what weekends Eddie had Charlotte, and she would do this on purpose. And he just let her.

It made you so mad. Lottie deserved better than this. She deserved a father who was excited to see her any chance he got. You began to resent Eddie more and more.

It was Saturday night, and Eddie had bailed for the weekend again. He was taking Chrissy to Indianapolis to spend the weekend and go shopping. Honestly, you were in the mood for a good cry.

Not only was Eddie bailing on his visitation, but he was also pushing for more. You didn’t understand it, but you knew who was behind it. Chrissy just liked stirring up shit between you and Eddie. You were convinced she got a kick out of it.

You figured the best way to get a good cry was to go rent a sappy movie. You were sure a good romance would have you sobbing within the hour. You packed Lottie’s diaper bag, strapped her in her car seat, and drove to Family Video.

You smiled when you saw Steve behind the counter through the glass doors. He was on the phone as you walked in, but he gave you a big smile and held up a finger to tell you to hold on a second. You started browsing the movies, seeing what was available.

Steve got off the phone as quickly as possible, rushing over to your side. “Hey, Lottie,” he greeted the baby on your hip, making her giggle and reach for him. You handed her off as Steve happily took her. “So, what brings you in today? Not that I’m not excited to see you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Steve. “Rough weekend. I need a good cry.”

He frowned. “Why?”

You sighed. “Just Eddie and Chrissy stuff. The usual.”

Steve nodded in understanding, but it pissed him off. He hated the hell Eddie and his girlfriend put you through on a constant basis. He wished he could make it better. “So you need a sad movie?”

“Yeah. Any recommendations?”

He thought for a minute. He browsed the shelves as Lottie played with his name tag. “Hmm…oh!” He reached forward and plucked a VHS off the shelf. “This one will get you for sure.”

You took it from his hands. “Steel Magnolias. I haven’t seen it.”

“Oh, it’ll definitely make you cry,” Steve laughed as you examined the tape, reading the back synopsis.

“Do you know that because it made you cry?” You teased, a playful smile on your lips as you looked at him again.

Steve blushed bright red. “Maybe.”

You laughed, poking him in the side. “Who knew you were such a sap, Steve Harrington.”

“Hey,” he said, holding up his free hand in surrender. “Chicks dig a guy who’s in tune with his emotions.”

“Is that so?”

“It is so,” Steve confirmed with a grin. You could never wipe the smile off your face when Steve was around. He was just so fun, and kind, and funny. He was a great friend, and cute, too, if you let yourself admit it.

You exchanged the tape for Lottie then followed Steve back to the counter where he checked you out. “Just one movie tonight?”

“Yeah. I pass out too early now to watch more than one.”

Steve chuckled as he scanned the tape and pulled up your account. He clicked on his computer for a few seconds before a receipt began to print. “Alright, you’re all set.”

“Thanks,” you smiled as you took the tape and receipt from him. “I’ll see you around, Steve!” You turned and began walking to the front door, ready to get home, get Lottie comfy in bed, then watch your movie.

“Hey,” Steve said, stopping you. You turned around, confused.

“What’s up?”

“Um…” Steve cleared his throat. “Would you…want to go out sometime?” His voice was nervous, like you’d never heard it before.

His words caught you off guard. You raised your eyebrows, switching the baby to the other arm. “What?”

“Go out? Like, on a date?”

You blinked at him. “You want to go on a date…with me?”

“Yeah,” he smiled nervously at you. “I’ve…been wanting to ask you out for a while. But you just had so much going on, I didn’t want to add more stress to your plate…”

“Steve, you could never do anything but make my life better. I love spending time with you.”

He beamed at that. “Yeah? Well…would you want to go on a date with me?”

“Sure,” you smiled. “I would love that.”

You finished packing up Charlotte’s bag, making sure it was stocked with plenty of clothes and her favorite toys, including the teddy bear Steve had given her, which was her absolute favorite. Eddie had plenty of diapers and wipes at his house so you didn’t have to worry about that.

You had your date with Steve tonight. He was going to be picking you up shortly after Lottie left, so you had already gotten ready. You wore a short little dress that you’d been waiting for an excuse to wear forever, your hair hung perfectly, and you had done some light makeup. You hadn’t dressed up like this and gone on a date in…ever.

There was a knock at the door right on time. “There’s daddy!” You told Charlotte, who smiled big and clapped her little hands together. You scooped her up and headed for the front door, opening it to reveal Eddie.

Eddie smiled at Charlotte, but immediately took notice of your look. “Where are you going all dolled up? Got a hot date?” He asked, a sneer in his voice.

Your smile dropped. So he was going to be like this today. “Yeah. I do, actually.”

Eddie didn’t like that. The thought of it struck an unusual and unwelcome jealousy into his chest. “With who?”

“That’s none of your business,” you said. You handed over Charlotte’s bag. “I can do whatever I want. You cheated on me, remember?”

He didn’t acknowledge your second comment. “It is my business if you’re bringing my daughter around some guy.”

You stared him down. “Well, you bring your mistress around our daughter, so I don’t think you have the right to say anything.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened. “Chrissy is my girlfriend.”

“Sure.” You turned to Charlotte, smiling at her. “I’ll see you Sunday, baby girl. I love you so much.” You gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek before handing her off to Eddie. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

Eddie left, and you sighed. You took some deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. You would not let Eddie ruin this night. This was your first time being asked on a date, and you were going to have a good time.

It was about 15 minutes later that Steve picked you up. He looked handsome, wearing a button up shirt and jeans. He held a beautiful bouquet of flowers that he handed you as you opened the door.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, and you could tell from his voice that he truly meant it. You blushed deeply as you took the flowers.

“Thank you,” you smiled. Steve followed you into the apartment, stepping over toys as you walked into the kitchen. You grabbed a vase and filled it with water, placing the flowers inside.

“Where are we going?” You asked as you walked with Steve to his car. He held the passenger side door open for you, and you smiled at him as you slid in. He was such a gentleman.

“I was thinking, dinner and a movie is too lame, too cliche. We watch movies all the time. So,” he gestured into the backseat, “I packed us a picnic, and got us tickets to see David Bowie in the city tonight.”

You stared at him, blinking. “I…no you didn’t.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, I did. I know you’re a big fan, and he was performing nearby, so…”

“Oh my god!” Your heart was beating out of your chest, you felt like it would explode. “Steve. Oh my god.”

Steve was very proud of himself for this one. He knew you’d freak out, but your reaction was even better than he hoped. “That’s why I asked you out tonight specifically. I, uh…already had the tickets.”

You quickly swiped a falling tear off your cheek before it could mess up your makeup. “Steve Harrington, I think I’m in love with you.”

That made Steve’s heart swell. Because he felt the same way about you.

Steve drove the two of you to the park, where you found a spot next to a large tree. He laid out the blanket and sat down the picnic basket he’d packed full of all kinds of foods. You ate together, laughing and joking and having the best time. But you couldn’t shake the buzzing excitement in your belly from the news of the concert.

It was a couple hour’s drive to the city, but it was worth it. The show was incredible, everything you dreamed seeing David Bowie would be. Steve held your hand, which sent electricity through both of your bodies.

When Steve brought you home, he walked you to your apartment door. Butterflies were flying in your stomach, still ecstatic from the most incredible date you ever could have imagined.

“I had a great time,” Steve said.

“Me too,” you agreed. “Truly. Do you…want to come in? The night doesn’t have to be over yet.”

A smile spread across Steve’s lips. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Steve followed you in. As you turned to him, you saw something behind his eyes. Like he was thinking, considering something. He lifted a hand and caressed the side of your face with the back of his hand, thinking he had never seen someone as beautiful in his life. “Can I kiss you?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “I…yes.”

Steve smiled lightly. Then he was leaning in, closer and closer, until his lips pressed to yours.

Sparks flew. You kissed him back eagerly, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush to his own. The kiss turned heated, Steve pressing your back up against the wall as he kissed you passionately. His hands began sliding up the skirt of your dress.

“Steve,” you said, breathless against his lips. “Take me to my room.”

The next morning, you woke up next to Steve. He had his arm around your waist, cuddling you close. You were both naked. As you awoke, Steve did, too, pulling you closer to him and nuzzling his face into your neck. “Don’t go,” he mumbled.

“I’m not,” you giggled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve asked you to be his girlfriend that morning. It may have been a little soon, but you happily said yes. You knew Steve well, he was one of your best friends. You knew you wanted to be with him.

Robin was ecstatic when you told her the news. “About time!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms up. “Took you long enough, dingus.”

You knew you had to tell Eddie. As much as you dreaded it, he deserved to know as the father of your daughter. You waited a couple of weeks into the relationship, wanting to be sure things were going to work out before you brought it up. But your relationship with Steve was incredible, a kind of joy you never thought you could experience in a relationship.

Eddie came to the door to drop off Charlotte one Sunday evening. He was a little early, and Steve was over.

“Shit,” you hissed as he knocked at the door. “I guess it’s now or never.”

You answered the door, loving how Lottie’s face lit up at the sight of you. “Hi baby!”

“Mama!” She called, reaching for you. You took her from Eddie’s arms, sitting her on your hip. “Dada!” She exclaimed next, only she wasn’t looking at Eddie.

Steve had come up behind you, and Lottie was pointing at him. Your mouth dropped as Eddie’s face turned to one of pure anger. “What the fuck?” He said.

“I swear, I don’t know what that’s about. She’s never called him that before,” you explained quickly. Honestly Eddie deserved to have his feelings hurt, but you knew how destroyed you would be if Lottie called Chrissy Mama.

“What is he doing here anyway?” Eddie asked, gesturing towards Steve. “I don’t see Robin here. Do you have a life of your own, Harrington?”

You looked between Steve and Eddie. “Ed…me and Steve are…together.”

The words hit Eddie like a punch to the gut. He figured you would date eventually, but maybe he just got spoiled by you being single. He didn’t expect the pain of finding out you had moved on. And with Harrington? “What?”

You pursed your lips, knowing this had the potential to go badly. “We’re together. Steve is my boyfriend.”

Eddie just stared between the two of you. Then, he laughed, a sinister sounding chuckle. He knew he had no right to be pissed, but he was pissed. “Well, isn’t that just great.”

“Eddie-“

“No,” he said, holding a hand up. “You don’t owe me an explanation. You do whatever you want. Enjoy your life with Steve.”

And with that, he left. He didn’t even tell Charlotte goodbye.

Things with Steve were incredible. He was the best boyfriend you could ask for, and he was amazing with Lottie. She loved playing with him, and he could sit on the floor and play with her for hours without getting bored.

You had been together for a year and a half when he surprised you with a trip to the beach. You spent the weekend laying out in the sun, playing in the ocean, making love until the early morning in your suite.

On the last day there, you were walking down the beach hand in hand. As you were looking down at the sand for seashells, you noticed some writing in the sand. You let go of Steve’s hand to walk over and read it.

Will you marry me?

“Steve!” You exclaimed. “Look, someone proposed! How cute-“

You froze when you turned around to see Steve on one knee, holding a beautiful ring in a black velvet box. You gasped, tears immediately falling. You always were emotional.

“Will you make me the luckiest guy in the world and marry me?”

Eddie came home a little early from work one evening, and immediately knew something was wrong. He could feel it in the atmosphere before he even heard the noises. Those unmistakable noises.

He crept down the hallway, careful not to make any noise. Not that he thought he’d be noticed, anyway. Not with what he deeply suspected was going on.

He made it to the bedroom he shared with Chrissy. The door was slightly ajar, and he took a deep breath before pushing it open all the way.

Chrissy and her ex, Jason Carver, were in his bed, absolutely going at it. Eddie knew this was what was going on from the moment he walked into the apartment, but seeing it, he still felt like he’d be sick. Chrissy turned at the sound of the door opening and screamed, covering herself and Jason, who didn’t really seem to give a fuck at all.

After Jason left and Eddie was left alone with his girlfriend, he demanded the truth. She admitted she had been sleeping with Jason again for months.

Naturally, Eddie kicked her out. Then, he was alone.

Alone with only his thoughts, he had too much quiet time to think. And what he found himself thinking about was you. Far too often. He thought about your relationship, how he fucked everything up, including your lifelong friendship. Sure, he got his beautiful daughter out of it, but he could have treated you better. He should have treated you better.

He also thought about the way you’d treated him. The way you had loved him. How you were the only woman who had ever loved him, besides his mom all those years ago. How he had taken you for granted. He thought about how he would feel if some asshole treated Lottie the way he treated you. The thought itself made him furious.

Because now that Chrissy was gone and he was no longer blinded by his lifelong crush, he was realizing something:

Eddie loved you.

Not just as the mother of his child, or as a platonic friend, but love love. The kind he had been too blind to see back in high school, back during the days of your relationship.

He hated himself now. He had fucked up more than was even fathomable. He had thrown you away, for Chrissy. You were so much better than Chrissy in every way. Prettier, smarter, funnier, kinder. And you had treated him well.

Eddie dwelled on it for months. He grabbed his mail from the mailbox as he headed into his trailer one day, flipping through the various bills and junk mail - until he stopped at one with your name on it.

He dropped the other pieces of mail in his rush to open that one. He nearly ripped it in half getting it open, and as he pulled out the card inside, his blood ran cold.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Mr. and Mrs Harrington.

It was too late.

tags

@ali-r3n @crispystarfishhottub

[lokis-army-77]

Cozy

Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Waking up the day after Eddie has fucked your brains out you have a little more fun.

Warning: 18 +. unprotected sex, p n v, breeding kink, kinda innocent reader, soft dom eddie, 1 whore, a bit of hair pulling.

Thank you to those of you who beta read! <3

Masterlist

You wake up in the late morning, sun shining through the blinds, warming your bare body. You can feel the heat radiating from your boyfriend as well. He's awake too. You can tell by how his hips keep pressing into you from behind, still not satisfied even after a night of rolling in the sheets 

Eddie's arm holds you close to him and you feel his lips barely caress the shell of your ear. "Morning baby." He hums. 

You smile sleepily. "Mornin'," you say as you snuggle further back into him.

He grunts. "Don't do that or you'll start something you can't finish."

"I don't know what you’re talkin' 'bout." Your giggles are soft, muffled by the comforter.

Eddie rolls his hips into the curve of your ass. "Oh, I bet you do." He bites at your ear lobe. 

"Eddie stop." You swat your hand behind you at an awkward angle. 

"Stop what?" He asked, rolling his hips again.

This time you can't help but moan. 

You can feel him grinning lazily, his unshaven scruff catching on your hair. 

He's getting harder, his cock is pressing into you and it's impossible to ignore with neither of you having clothes on. 

Eddie slowly moves his hand down your body, fingers contouring to every curve until he ends up between your legs. 

He pries your leg back and hooks it over his own. "You're so wet, baby. I've barely done anything." He says as he runs a thick finger through your folds. 

You shift, sighing when he touches your clit. "Eddie..."

You liked him like this. Liked living in the softness of a late Saturday morning. But you can't lie, you liked it when he was rough too. 

Memories of the night before had you buzzing. Skin on skin, mouth to mouth. You loved when he dominated you but you loved when he was soft and sweet. 

"What is it, sweetheart? What'd ya need?" He asks, finger now circling languidly around your entrance. 

"Mmm, you. Need you." 

"Me? What from me?" He teases.

You just whimper, brain foggy from sleep and his touch.

"Come on, Sweetheart, tell me." His thumb swipes over your clit.

"Please," you breathe. "Need your cock." Your face is flush. He knows how much that word embarrasses you. 

"Is that right? Want me to give you my cock?" His finger dips ever so slightly into you 

"Yes!" Your hands grip the covers when he finally pushes his finger into you fully. 

Eddie takes his fingers away from you and gives your ass a quick smack. He leans in and gives you a kiss on the cheek before whispering, "Then get in that puppy pose I love so much."

Your legs squeezed shut and your heart fluttered. He could always make the most dirty things sound so innocent. 

Wasting no time you throw off the covers and get onto your knees. Eddie watches you with lust-filled eyes as you slowly put your chest to the mattress, leaving your ass bare and presented. 

With your head resting on the bed, you can only hear and feel Eddie moving behind you. You suck in a deep breath when his large hand grasps your ass cheek. 

"Such a good girl for me." He praises and you keen. You wiggle your hips and he laughs through his nose. "Gonna give you what you want." 

His hands roam over the roundness of your ass, spreading your cheeks even more apart. 

You clench around nothing, waiting as he admires you. 

"Eddie?" You ask.

He hums in response, still staring at how you are spread out for him.

"Need you really bad," you whine. You could only stand so long without him being inside you and patience was starting to wear thin. 

"Okay, okay." He pressed up into you. He's hot, you can feel the heat radiating from him as he pushes his cock through your wet folds. He passes through them a few times before he takes a breath and pushes into you completely.

The angle had him hitting deep within you. His head rubbed against your walls in a way that had you clenching your toes. 

“Fuck,” you moan into the sheets, fingers grasping for anything that could help ground you. 

“That’s it, baby.” Eddie groans. “Pussy’s just squeezin’ me.” He begins to pump in and out of you at a steady pace. “God you’re perfect.” 

You close your eyes and reach your hand behind you. Your fingers come in contact with Eddie’s hip and he slides his own hand from your ass down your back. His touch sends a shiver down your spine. 

A long whine is pulled from you when Eddie fists your hair in his hand, tugging only hard enough for you to feel a small amount of pressure on the back of your head. He moans when you start to rock back into him. “That’s right use my fuckin’ cock.”

He pulls your hair harder and you mewl. “Wanna be closer to you.”

“Okay Sweetheart.” Eddie lets go of your hair and reaches down with both hands to help you up. He pulls your back flush to his chest, it’s sticky with perspiration. He dosen’t stop his efforts, his hips still move, pucnhing into you. 

All you can do is grunt and groan as you feel him fucking into you. Your head rolls back onto his shoulder and he wraps an arm around your chest so that he can hold you steady but also grab at your breast. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you moan into his ear. “Want- fuck I want-”

“What’s that baby? What do you want?”

You can’t answer, too embarrassed to say but when Eddie gives you a firm smack on the ass, the words come fumbeling past your lips. “Cum inside me. Want you to cum inside me, gimmie- fuck- gimmie- ah!” 

His hips press harder into you. “oh? Want me to fuck you full?” He slaps your ass again. “Hum? Want me to fuck a baby into you?”

Those words had you crying, begging for more. You love when he talks like that. When he fucks into you so despretly at the thought of you having his children.

“Mmm, that’s what I thought. Such a whore aren't you, Sweetheart? Need everybody to know you’re mine.”

“Yes. Yes, Eddie, I’m yours.” You heave. 

Eddie lets you go and you crumble back to the bed. His pace quickens and you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. His breathing gets heavier, and you can feel the pleasure building inside you. Your moans get louder and more frequent. 

“Right there!” You cry when he goes deeper. 

“Yeah, baby? Right there? That’s the spot?” 

You nod and he continues to hit just the right place. Your mouth is hanging open, drool pooling on the bed. It feels so good to have him so close. 

In and out, in and out he goes, hips clapping against your ass. Your back arches and you feel yourself coming closer. 

You let your hand fall from behind you to the bed before you bring it between your legs. Your fingers find your clit and begin circling. Another shudder courses through your body and you clench around Eddie. 

“God, fuck baby, don’t do that.” He grunts, thrusts faltering as you squeeze him again. 

“AH! Eddie, please, I'm gonna cum.” You moan. Wetness is dripping down your thighs and hand and onto the sheets. 

“Then cum, sweetheart. Cum on my cock like the good girl you are.” He tells you, hips snapping into you faster. 

You feel yourself tensing in pleasure before you finally let go, cumming hard. You keen and arch your back, your orgasm crashing through you. Eddie thrusts a few more times before his own orgasm overtakes him and he groans. You both collapse in a heap, breathing heavily. 

When you open an eye to peek at Eddie, he’s already watching you. A smile envelopes you and you hide back in the sheets. 

Eddie tuts, “Let me see that pretty face.” He takes his hand and tries to pull you from your hiding place. “Come on, Sweetheart, show me how beautiful you look.”

You finally peer up at him again and he just beams, cheeks round and eyes scrunched. He leans forward and plants a kiss on your forehead before leaving pecks down the bridge of your nose and lastly on your lips. You hum into him. 

“I love you, y’know that?” He asks. 

“Yeah, I know. I love you too.” You say sweetly before you are interrupted by a yawn. 

Eddie gives you another tender kiss on the cheek, “Go back to sleep baby, I’ll clean this mess up.” 

“Okay-” you comply, yawning again. Before Eddie can leave and come back with a warm cloth, you are already fast asleep.