xmunsonlovex

[xmunsonlovex]

This is what it would look like if Joseph Quinn was lecturing you

[xmunsonlovex]

d&d with eddie at christmas 🎄🎅🏻

[xmunsonlovex]

best friends?

paring ↬ Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary ↬ Since birth your entire life revolved around one person, your best friend—Eddie Munson. The two of you always close but never crossing any boundaries that would allow you to be anything more than friends. It wasn’t until college that you were able to experience a life without him. Making other friends and dating, without his presence. Lead you feeling like things would be different when you returned to Hawkins. What happens when you do return, the both of you being a little drunk and in your feelings?

a/n: wrote this forever ago but never uploaded cuz I thought it was a lil cheesy but missing my mans Eddie so took the time to re read it and change some bits, hope you enjoy xx

Feedback & Reblogs appreciated! Thank you ♥︎

⋆. 𝜗𝜚 ˚⋆

You stand outside, trying to summon the courage to step into the party being thrown in your honor. The trailer, once a place that brought you so much peace, now feels like a source of overwhelming anxiety. It belonged to Eddie, your best friend. The person who has been by your side since diapers. The two of you had been inseparable growing up, all the way through high school. But that was a year ago. So much had changed during your first year of college. You’d seen him a handful of times since then, but it was nothing like the bond you used to share.

With your first year of college coming to an end, you’ve returned to your hometown. As soon as Eddie heard you were coming back, he insisted on throwing a party, just like old times. Unable to tell that him no, you reluctantly agreed.

Standing in front of his trailer, you find yourself frozen, unable to cross the threshold. It’s been months since you last saw him. It was some time during Christmas break. In a desperate attempt to muster some liquid courage, you’d taken a few large gulps of liquor before making the short walk here.

It wasn’t helping.

The first 18 years of your life were spent with Eddie. Your fathers were best friends, which made you friends by situation. It didn’t take much for it to become an all consuming friendship between. Only becoming closer when everything happened to his mother, then his father leaving him with his uncle when he was still in grade school. Becoming his only constant in his life. The two of you always so close but never crossing that boundary between friends and lovers. Even though you so desperately craved it.

Your high school years were spent pining after your best friend, watching him date girls that weren’t you. College gave you the chance to step outside Eddie’s orbit. You found a world outside of Munson, making friends and even dating. Slowly, your world stopped revolving around him. You thought you’d return as a more confident version of yourself.

But now, standing here, terrified of seeing those big brown eyes, you realize just how fragile that progress was. One look, and you fear you’ll revert to that awkward teenager with unrequited love for her lifelong friend. A part of you knows that shy girl is still there, lingering beneath the surface. No one has ever compared to Eddie Munson in your life.

Someone pushes past you, jolting you out of your thoughts. Following closely behind, you step into the trailer. The interior hasn’t changed, it’s like stepping into the past. You force yourself to move, slipping through the sliding glass door into the backyard. Music is blasting, and the crowd is alive with laughter and chatter.

Eddie sits by the fire pit, looking a little lost. He’s already had a few drinks, his gaze fixed on the ground as he takes another swig from a beer bottle. The sight of him, so familiar, so achingly Eddie. And fuck does it do a number on you.

Within seconds, you’re seated next to him.

“Mind if I have a drink?” you ask.

Eddie looks up, his frown softening into a half smile. He doesn’t respond immediately, just staring at you like he’s making sure you’re really there. Finally, he says, “I thought you didn’t drink anymore.”

“Yeah, well… tonight’s an exception,” you reply, accepting the beer he hands you.

“I missed you,” Eddie admits, his voice quieter than usual.

“I missed you too.”

“How have you been?” You ask as he takes too long to respond, willing the conversation to move forward.

For a while, the two of you catch up—his job at the mechanic shop, the band’s success with gigs in neighboring towns. He looks genuinely happy talking about his music, and you can’t help but admire the passion lighting up his face. Noticing how much more animated he is talking about what the bands been up to. Knowing that he had always hoped to make it big, that working with his Uncle was not where he wanted to be but accepted it.

“You should come to one of our shows while you’re in town.” He suggests, looking at you eagerly while waiting for a response.

“That’d be fun,” you reply, trying to sound casual, but your heart is racing. Eddie’s excitement is infectious, and the way he’s looking at you now is making it impossible to focus.

“We’re playing at The Hideout next weekend,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “You can’t miss it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you say, your lips curving into a smile as you take another sip of the beer he handed you.

Eddie’s grin widens, his dimples deepening, and you can feel the familiar pull he’s always had on you. It’s annoying, really. One conversation, one smile, and you’re already wondering if the progress you made this year was all for nothing.

“It’ll be just like old times,” he says, nudging you with his shoulder. “You and me, rocking out. Well, me rocking out. You cheering like my number one fan.”

“Always your number one fan,” you admit softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Eddie’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than it should, his playful smirk faltering into something more serious. “I missed this,” he says quietly. “Missed you.”

You look down at your drink, avoiding his eyes. “I missed you too, Eddie.”

“How’s college life been?” Eddie asks, flipping the conversation onto you.

“Good… it’s been really good. I’ve been making friends and dating—getting the whole college experience.”

“You still with that loser Michael?”

“No.”

“Oh shit… I’m sorry,” he says, immediately regretting the casual diss.

“It’s fine.” You laugh because, if there’s one thing Michael was, it’s a loser. Eddie had called it from the start, but you didn’t want to believe him. Now, having experienced it yourself, you know he was right.

“What happened?” Eddie asks curiously, avoiding eye contact.

“I’m not nearly drunk enough to talk about him yet,” you say, shaking your head and laughing at the thought of explaining.

“Then keep drinking,” Eddie laughs with you. You listen, raising the can to your lips and taking a large swig.

“You know who’s here tonight?” Eddie asks after a brief silence.

“Who?” you reply, glancing around at the familiar faces. You hadn’t greeted anyone else, immediately finding Eddie and slipping back into old habits.

“Mark.”

His name immediately tempts an eye roll, but you suppress it. You don’t bother scanning the room for him. No need to open that can of worms.

“You used to like Mark, right? Back in high school?” Eddie presses, cracking the lid open anyway.

“Yeah…” you admit reluctantly.

“Why didn’t you ever date him?”

“I don’t know. I think I was just scared,” you lie, avoiding Eddie’s gaze and taking another sip.

“But you liked him, and he liked you. That much was obvious. He’s a nice guy. Smart, too,” Eddie adds, scratching his head.

When you finally look up, Eddie’s eyes are already on you. His gaze holds a quiet intensity that makes your cheeks heat up—or maybe it’s the shots and beers working their way through your system. Either way, you’re sure your face is flushed.

“I guess I just… had my eyes elsewhere,” you admit, your voice soft as your eyes stay locked with his.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. His face is unreadable, but you can tell he’s intrigued.

“Had your eyes elsewhere?” he repeats, sipping his beer and waiting for you to elaborate.

“Yeah…”

“Who were you looking at?”

“I wasn’t going to admit it then, and I’m not starting now,” you retort defensively, laughing to cover the tension.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be shy. It’s fine, we were kids. Crushes are normal.” Eddie nudges you playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

“No, it’s stupid.” You shake your head, but Eddie’s gaze doesn’t waver. He’s thinking hard, trying to piece it together.

“Was it me?” His voice is casual, but the words hit you like a thunderbolt. You freeze, and Eddie just keeps looking at you, calm but expectant.

“Yeah… I used to have the stupidest crush on you,” you admit with a laugh, hoping your flippant tone hides how much you mean it.

Eddie grins, blushing slightly. “Did you ever think we’d date?”

“I used to hope so,” you admit, fidgeting with your empty beer can. “But part of me knew it’d never happen.”

Eddie’s brow furrows, his expression serious now. “Why not? Why did you think we wouldn’t?”

“Because you’re you, and I’m me. I never thought you’d even look at me like that. I was shy, socially awkward—a giant loser,” you confess, laying your insecurities bare.

Eddie frowns, genuinely upset by your words. “You were never a loser to me,” he says softly. He sets his beer aside, leaning forward slightly.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything or make a move?” He asks not giving you a chance to respond to his last statement.

“I’d rather have stayed your friend than risk losing you if my feelings weren’t mutual.”

Eddie sighs, nodding in understanding. “You weren’t the only one who felt that way. I thought someone like you would never want to be with me. You were smart, going places. It just made sense that you’d end up with someone else. Someone better.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Eddie, I followed you around like a lost puppy. I did anything and everything you asked. I started smoking, drinking, partying. All just to be around you more. I was so helplessly, pathetically in love with you.”

Eddie stares at you, stunned into silence for a moment.

“If you were so in love with me, why didn’t you ever say anything?” His voice is quiet, almost disbelieving.

“I thought you had to know. Everyone knew. I’d get teased about it constantly—people at school, our friends, even our parents. And every time, without fail, you denied it,” you say, holding his gaze.

Eddie rubs the back of his neck, looking guilty. “Yeah, I heard the teasing too. I just… I didn’t think you felt that way for real. Have you always felt this way?”

“It’s always been there,” you admit. “Even when we were kids, but it got stronger when we got older.”

“And do you still feel that way?” Eddie asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitate, but honesty wins out. “I feel like it’ll always be there, whether I want it to be or not.”

Eddie exhales deeply, running his hands through his hair. His silence is deafening, and your nerves spike.

“Say something,” you urge, forcing a weak laugh to cover how vulnerable you feel.

Eddie finally looks at you, his eyes soft and contemplative. “I don’t know what to say. I feel like an idiot for not seeing it before. For not doing something about it back then.”

You shrug, smiling faintly. “It’s ancient history now, right? I mean, we’re just friends, and that’s fine. It’s great, even.”

Eddie tilts his head, studying you with a mix of disbelief and something you can’t quite name. “Do you really think that’s all we’ve ever been?”

“Isn’t it?” you counter, trying to keep your voice steady.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans back, staring at the ceiling as though searching for the right words. Finally, he sighs.

“Maybe it was all I let it be,” he admits. “I didn’t think I deserved to have you like me. Not like that. So I never let myself think about it. I shut it down before it could even start.”

Your chest tightens at his confession, and suddenly, the air between you feels heavier.

“Well,” you murmur, breaking the tension with a nervous laugh, “we’re quite a pair, aren’t we? Both too scared to say anything, both too blind to see what was right in front of us.”

Eddie chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, guess we are.”

“Did you really start smoking, drinking, and partying just to be around me more?” he chuckles as he asks.

“Unfortunately, yes. You probably could’ve asked me to do crack, and I would’ve considered it back then.” You laugh, and he laughs with you at your honesty. He’s never seen that side of you before; no one’s ever had the guts to be this honest.

“You were crazy about me, huh?” he grins.

“Yes, and it was embarrassing, Eddie.”

“So, that’s why you never dated anyone? Because I was too stupid to see you right in front of me?” Eddie says, not really asking, just confirming it out loud to himself.

“What happened with Michael then? Why’d you two break up?” Eddie asks, curiously looking at his bottle.

“We broke up a few weeks ago. He was nice… but boring. And I’m boring, so for me to think someone else is boring, they have to be really boring.” As you speak, he laughs. He always disliked Michael and never let you forget it.

“You didn’t really see a future with him then?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer.

“I tried to… he was so rich. Like, I could’ve had a few kids and never lifted a finger again—type rich. But his lack of personality and being terrible in bed, I couldn’t look past those things.” You can’t help the drunk laughter that comes as you speak, surprised by how honest you’re being.

Eddie’s face mirrors your surprise when you finally stop staring at your bottle. He can’t help but laugh. It’s the first time he’s heard you joke about something so serious.

“Bad in bed?” Eddie laughs so much he has tears in his eyes. He looks at you, and your eyes are now a little glazed.

“Mhmm… I had to do all the work. He had a very teeny weeny.” You laugh as the confession leaves your mouth. Sober you would have never admitted this outloud. Eddie shakes his head as if he can’t believe the words coming from you.

“Damn… he was tiny?”

“I’m sorry… I’m starting to feel the effects of the drinks and losing my filter.” You set your empty bottle down, bringing your cold hands to cover your warm face in embarrassment. Eddie laughs even more, clearly enjoying this side of you.

“Keep going, this is great. How tiny exactly are we talking?” Eddie can’t help but ask, curious to hear just how small this guy really was.

“He had a micro penis, like scientifically. A doctor diagnosed him. It’s one thing to have a teeny weeny, but at least compensate elsewhere.” You huff in annoyance. You know you shouldn’t be admitting this to Eddie, but it feels good to finally get it off your chest. The girlfriends you had in school would always try to see the positive in Michael and talk you down.

“He couldn’t compensate anywhere else either?” Eddie asks, still laughing, and you can tell he might even start to cry from how hard he’s laughing.

“Nope.”

“Damn. That’s a shame.”

“I know. The first time I went to have sex, and he has a micro penis. Just my luck.”

“That must have been a disappointment for sure. You were this young, cute girl wanting to get it in, and he turns around and pulls out that little thing?” Eddie says, with a laugh holding his hand out to show how small it was.

He can’t help but think of his own cock, it’s definitely not micro. It’s something he’s always been proud of, large and heavy. His mind wonders to thoughts of his sliding his length inbetween your folds, until you beg from him to finally fuck you. His thoughts interrupted when you speak.

“Yeah.. I tried really hard to no judge him and make it work. After six months, I couldn’t do it anymore.” As you speak, his eyes dart to your lips. He’s enjoying this conversation but now his mind is elsewhere. He can feel the heat growing between his legs, his dick stiffens as he porrly attempts to push those thoughts away.

"Do you know how much I wish I’d paid more attention back then? Save you all that trouble. I wish I could go back and do things right. If I could, I’d make a move on you in a heartbeat. But that’s in the past. I’m not letting you slip away again.” Eddie’s voice is genuine, tinged with frustration. He can’t help but imagine how different things might have been if one of you had made a move when you were younger.

“Is it too late for us?” Eddie asks, his voice quiet but earnest. He doesn’t want to mess this up now, not after finally finding the courage to be honest with you.

“I don’t think so. I’m willing… if you are.” You answer, looking down at the tiny space between you, now nearly nonexistent.

You meet his eyes again, and this time, his gaze shifts to your lips. That’s all it takes. Before Eddie can respond, you pull him closer and kiss him hungrily. He matches your intensity, kissing you back with just as much passion. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens—an image you’d imagined countless times before. A smile plays on your lips, and the sound of Eddie’s groan fills the air as your kiss continues.

After a few more heated moments, Eddie pulls away first, his lips swollen and red. You can’t see yourself, but you imagine you look the same.

“Do you have any plans this weekend?” he asks between breaths, trying to catch his voice.

“No,” you answer, barely able to focus on the words.

“Good, I’m going to pick you up Saturday night. We’re going on the most stereo typical high school date. Make up for all those missed out years.” Eddie’s grin is mischievous.

“Oh yeah? What does that entail?”

“First I’m gonna take you to Al’s dinner, cop a feel at the movie theaters and then drive you to the look out and hope that I get lucky.” He teases, kissing you swiftly as if it’s the most natural occurrence.

“We used to do all those things but without the kissing and heavy petting.” You say and can’t help the eye roll that happens, as you bite your lip trying not to smile.

“Yeah but I’m not holding back no more. Now that I know your feelings are mutual, prepare to be sick of me.”

“Dunno if I could ever get sick of you, Eddie.” You admit, honestly.

“Good. I’m going to make you so damn happy. You’ll never get bored with me,” he says, laughing as he throws a jab at your ex.

“I believe it,” you smile, your fingers intertwining with his.

“It may sound cheesy, but I want to be the guy who can walk into a room and make you feel the most comfortable and safe. When people see us together, I want them to know that we’ve found the best in each other.”

“Eddie, you’ve always been that for me.”

“Good, and I’m only going to get better when I’m your boyfriend. That’s a promise.” Eddie’s voice is full of confidence, even a bit cocky now, but it’s clear he knows what he’s capable of. He’s determined to be the man you’ve always deserved.

[xmunsonlovex]

JOSEPH QUINN @ CBS Mornings — November 19th

[xmunsonlovex]

Oh yeah, he grew up!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ(2018)ㅤ |ㅤ (2024)

[xmunsonlovex]

He’s nothing if not consistent….😆😆😆

[xmunsonlovex]

JOSEPH QUINN as EDDIE MUNSON in Stranger Things

[xmunsonlovex]

"Nah... nah, I'm out."

[xmunsonlovex]

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI, insecure eddie makes an appearance, eddie’s pov, tons of kissing, drug use (weed), grinding/dry humping and a whole lot of cheese, what can i say? (it’s a given with these two)

part four | part six

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

word count: 4.9k

a/n: damn this was a long time coming. thank you guys for being so patient with me during this writing slump. also big shoutout to @strangerstilinski for gifting me that one porno title. but i really need to give the biggest thank you to my bestie @undead-supernova ! august, you have truly helped me improve my writing so much over the past year, and i hope you know how much i love and appreciate you. this chapter is dedicated to you boo xx.

“You cannot be serious, sweetheart,” Eddie deadpans, looking between you and the VHS tape clutched between his fingers.

You feel your face warm, his overly exaggerated tone causing another customer in the horror section to give you both a sideways glance.

“As a heart attack,” you mumble, grabbing a copy of Children of the Corn to read the back cover in order to avoid his piercing gaze.

“Never seen Alien, she says…” he huffs under his breath, “It’s a classic!”

When you finally dare to peek up at him under your lashes, he’s giving you a look of utter disapproval that wavers on the edge of teasing.

“Sci-Fi isn’t really my thing,” you shrug, putting the tape back and reaching for another.

“But Evil Dead is?” he muses, leaning forward over your shoulder to glance at the cover art.

The background is dark, with two grotesque-like hands reaching into the frame and toward a bloodied Bruce Campbell holding a chainsaw above his head. When Eddie leans in closer to get a better look, the tips of his fingers brush against your own in the process. The gentle touch sends your body into overdrive and you swear your heart is about to leap out of your chest from the proximity.

“Well…what about this one?” you ask, stepping out of his embrace to head further down the aisle, ignoring the rising heat in your cheeks as you nearly stumble. Damn heels.

“I would argue that this is a classic.”

But Eddie just slips in behind you again, resting a hand on your hip while you hold a copy of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in your hands.

“Perhaps,” he shrugs, holding back a snicker as you gasp in mock offense.

“You doubt my judgment?”

“Of course not,” he insists with a small snort. “But…maybe you have a thing for guys who wield chainsaws.”

You catch the sly grin that stretches across his lips out of the corner of your eye, a loud laugh puffing out from his chest when you playfully smack his shoulder. Eddie grabs the tape from you, leaning in a little closer until his lips brush against your ear.

And he doesn’t miss the subtle hitch of your breath.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart…” he cheekily assures, “Your secret is safe with me.”

When you throw a playful glare his way, he merely winks in response. Then he turns on his heel to stride back toward the front counter, snagging a box of Reese’s Pieces on his way. You fumble a step behind him before glancing up.

The employee manning the counter is someone you know all too well.

His hair is a little longer than the last time you saw him, the ends brushing against his forehead and falling into his eyes. But he’s still just as handsome, if not annoyingly so. And when Eddie sets the tapes on the counter, Steve barely spares him a passing glance. His brown eyes quickly settle on you as his lips pull up into a lazy grin.

“Find everything you were looking for?” he asks, the cadence of his voice is low but filled with a sticky sweetness that has your cheeks warming.

And if you didn’t know any better you would think he was flirting with you.

“O-Oh, I, uh— ”

“Yeah,” Eddie cuts in, his voice a little strained. “We found everything just fine, man.”

Steve gives you another soft grin as he snaps open the first case, a small snort leaving his nose.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for the gore fest type.”

But that slight hint of disbelief in his tone has you wanting to shrink in on yourself.

“Then you don’t know her very well,” Eddie mutters under his breath.

Only, his snide comment isn’t as quiet as he initially intended.

But Steve says nothing, just clears his throat and runs a hand through his chestnut locks before sliding the movies across the counter. The clacking of the keyboard fills the uncomfortable silence as you tug at the worn vinyl on the counter.

“That’ll be $12.35.”

You can feel Eddie tense beside you.

“I thought the movies were 2 for $4 tonight?” you chime in softly, confusion scrunching your brows together.

Steve’s lip quirks up in a slight smirk as he glances between you and Eddie.

“Well, Munson here has racked up quite a lot of late fees…” he trails before whistling. The flash of amusement in his eyes has Eddie’s narrowing in warning.

But that look only seems to encourage him.

“Looks like we’ve got Erotic Night of the Living Dead, returned three days late. Munch Masters Vol. I…”, Steve pauses to scroll further down the list. “…and Vol. II, that was a week late.”

He flashes Eddie a condescending grin, “Must’ve really liked that one, huh?”

But before Steve can embarrass him further, Eddie fishes out his wallet and slams a couple bills down onto the counter. He grabs the tapes, tucking them under his arm and slips his hand in yours. The boy all but pulls you out of the store, his chin tucked toward his chest to try and hide the flames licking his cheeks.

Despite his ever growing irritation—fueled by the embarrassment of what just transpired—he still opens the door and helps you into the van.

Ever the gentleman.

“Harrington’s got some nerve,” Eddie mutters under his breath as he slides into the driver's seat. “With his nice smile and his stupid hair…” His voice drips with condescension as he slams the driver's door shut behind him.

“Embarrassing me is one thing. But blatantly flirting with my girl, right in front of me—like I wasn't even there?! That’s low even for him.”

Eddie doesn’t even realize what he just let slip, too busy fumbling to stick the key into the ignition.

A beat passes before you manage to gather the courage to speak, the jingling of keys echoing in your ears.

“Your girl?” you ask carefully, heart lodged in your throat.

Eddie’s whole body tenses, taking his time in setting the tapes down on the dashboard before finally turning to face you.

“Well…I, uh, shit,” he whispers, splotches of red beginning to creep up his neck while he exhales sharply through his nose. “I wanted to ask you in a proper, more romantic way—”

You suddenly turn in your seat, your grip on his collar firm while your lips manage to cut him off with a surprised hmph.

But he’s quick to recover, mouth molding over yours with an intensity that would make your knees buckle if you were still standing. And he keeps kissing you, slowly, deeply…until the windows begin to fog up from the heat of your mingling breaths.

“I don’t need romantic, Eddie,” you manage when he pulls away for some much needed air, your nose nudges against his own before you press another gentle kiss to his swollen lips. “Just you.”

And his answering grin is all the reassurance you need.

“Welcome to my castle,” Eddie says, gesturing toward the pale blue trailer with a tentative smile.

He barely let you push open the passenger door before he was running around the front of the van, almost dropping the VHS tapes tucked under his arm in the process. But the soft giggle you let slip when he bows and offers you his hand had his heart skipping a beat.

He keeps your fingers intertwined as you walk alongside him to the door. The uneven gravel makes the otherwise short distance in your heels a little more treacherous than normal. But Eddie is more than willing to catch you at the slightest hint of a wobble in your step.

The night air is far more frigid than either of you anticipated, and the shiver that ripples through you has him nearly dropping the keys in his rush to open the front door. He curses softly, breathing out a sigh of relief when the door finally swings open.

“Ladies first,” he grins, gesturing you forward.

Once you're both safely inside Eddie drops the keys on the table by the door, kicking off his shoes and switching on lights as he goes. He inwardly cringes when he spots the fast food wrappers scattered across the counter and the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

What a great first impression, Munson.

But when he remembers the current state of his bedroom, his face pales.

“Uh, I’m just gonna…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck before motioning behind him with his thumb. “Grab a new shirt, but go ahead and make yourself at home.”

Eddie waits until you’ve taken a seat on the sofa before starting down the hall. He’s frantic when he bursts through his bedroom door, immediately eyeing the pile of clothes strewn across his unmade bed. A disaster he left in the wake of trying to pull together a last minute Halloween costume.

He found the orange shirt that’s currently adorning your frame in the very back of his closet, a lost relic from the one time Wayne had managed to take him hunting. Eddie had fallen asleep up in the deer stand and almost shot a crossbow through his boot, and Wayne had vowed never again.

He had grabbed a discarded sharpie off his nightstand, the cap tucked between his teeth as he scribbled This is my Halloween costume across the front in his signature messy scrawl. While it wasn’t his most creative idea to date, it was either this or the god awful pirate costume he’d been suckered into a few years back. That most definitely did not fit him anymore.

Eddie scoops up an armful of clothes, tossing them onto the already cluttered floor of his closet. His movements are erratic, nearly tripping over one of his amps in the process. While Eddie isn’t the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, he is unable to disguise the way his hands are trembling.

He’s nervous, so fucking nervous.

And when he dares to peek out of his room and down the hall, he immediately has to remind himself to breathe.

Because there you are, sitting on his couch, wearing his shirt. Looking almost heaven sent, your eyes alight with wonder as you take in the collection of hats and mugs adorning the walls.

“Get a fuckin’ grip, man,” he mumbles to himself, dropping to his knees to shove more of the remaining clutter under his bed.

Once he returns to his feet, he slips his jacket off his shoulders and tosses it over the back of the chair before rifling through the top drawer of his dresser for a new shirt. Despite what a majority of the town believed, Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson was no stranger to the sins of the flesh. He’d lost his virginity his first senior year in the back of his van to band geek, Polly O’Donnell.

Which was probably why her mom had failed him two years in a row. Not that he was keeping score or anything.

But even in that moment, Eddie hadn’t felt this nervous.

Maybe, it was because he didn’t harbor the same feelings for Polly that he did for you. Or perhaps the real reason was that he just didn’t trust people or their intentions. His tumultuous upbringing and treatment by his peers was testament enough of that. So Eddie kept most people at arm's length, not allowing them to see past his scary façade.

It was safer that way.

But one look from you was enough to have his carefully crafted walls crumbling down, laid to rubble beneath his feet.

And that’s the thing that scared him the most. That he would willingly throw himself (and his heart) into the crossfire if it meant you would continue to look at him like that.

Man, he had it bad.

He huffs out a breath, grabbing the first unwrinkled shirt that he can find and pulling it over his head. The male takes one final glance around his bedroom, deciding it’s good enough before he turns to leave. But something on his nightstand catches his eye, the joint he rolled earlier practically beckoning him with the promise of sweet relaxation.

And with the state of his jangled nerves, he could use all the help he could get.

So he slips the joint behind his ear, spinning the lighter between his thumb and forefinger as he pads down the hall toward you.

And while his nerves were ravaging his insides, you aren’t faring much better.

You had counted every mug and hat that lined the walls of his living room twice over, in a feeble attempt to distract yourself from the fact that you were actually here with him. All alone, with no prying eyes or listening ears to interrupt you. And despite the fact that he just put a shirt back on, it doesn’t stop your thoughts from wandering to not so innocent places.

The sleeves are cut off, showing off his surprisingly toned biceps. An array of dark ink flows over his arms, the black shirt making him appear almost paler in comparison. You tuck your lower lip between your teeth when you see the muscles in his forearms contract when he places his palms flat on the counter.

Your thighs press together as your gaze travels lower, where his jeans cling a little too tightly to his—

“You still up for some pizza?” he asks, picking up the phone and interrupting your thoughts.

“O-Oh, right!” you blink, averting your eyes. “Pizza sounds great.”

He quickly punches in a number before you can ask any further questions, holding the receiver up to his ear.

“Hey man, it’s Eddie,” he says after a few moments.

The male tucks the receiver between his ear and shoulder while he speaks, fingers drumming lightly along the countertop. The movement causes his hair to fall over his face, a stray curl eventually finding its way into his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah the usual.” he sputters, spitting the hair out and tucking the wild curls back behind his ear. “But uh, can I get olives on half?”

You can’t help but notice the way his eyes roll into the back of his head fondly. And it has you contemplating what other ways you could make his eyes roll back.

“No no no, I have not become an ‘olive enthusiast.’” He scoffs, fingers curling into air quotes. “I just, I have…” he pauses, dark eyes flicking over to you. “I have a guest over tonight.”

And the way Eddie has to hold the phone away from his ear has you stifling a giggle. You can hear a muffled voice on the other end, their enthusiastic lilt apparent even from where you are perched on the end of the sofa.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” He chuckles, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “But that should be it.” Eddie tucks the phone back in between his shoulder, reaching to grab his wallet from his back pocket.

“Oh wait, wait!” He exclaims, slapping his palm down onto the counter. “Add on an order of those cinnamon breadsticks too.”

You wish you could’ve been privy to their entire conversation, because the way Eddie flushes a deep crimson before he playfully tells the person on the other end to ‘kindly fuck off’ and hangs up the phone, has you beyond intrigued.

He takes a couple more bills out, tossing them on the counter and slips the wallet back into his pocket. The chain jingles against his thigh with each step he takes, your eyes unintentionally following the movement. He plops down onto the sofa beside you, the heat in his cheeks fading into a soft, rosy sheen.

“Nina’s is busy tonight,” he murmurs, setting something onto the small table beside him. “So, it might take a little longer than usual.”

“How did you know Nina’s Pizzeria was my favorite?” you ask, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion.

“Well,” he hums, leaning his head back against the cushions and giving you a lazy grin. “I just assumed you had much better taste than Domino’s, sweetheart.”

You playfully whack him with one of the throw pillows beside you, a stunned expression crossing over his features. Half of his hair is ruffled from where the pillow connected with his head, and this time you can’t contain the giggles from bubbling up in your chest.

“Oh you are so going to regret that, baby.” he taunts, eyes narrowing in a predatory manner.

And your whole body stills.

Baby. He just called you baby.

Eddie uses this moment to his advantage, pouncing on you with a wicked cackle. His hands find your sides, quickly pulling giggle after breathless giggle from you. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot, you squeal and begin to thrash beneath him as he continues to torture you with his fingers.

Your attempts to get him back are futile. Eddie is much faster, taking both of your wrists and pinning them above your head. Both of your chests are rising and falling rapidly from the exertion, your faces mere inches apart.

His curls create a dark curtain around you, his eyes flicking down toward your lips. His minty breath washes over you, causing yours to lodge in your throat. You just stare at each other, both of you fighting the urge to close the remaining distance between your mouths.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat, “Movie time?”

“Movie time,” you agree.

And just like that, the moment is gone as quickly as it came. Eddie clumsily climbs off you, almost falling off the sofa in the process. His curls bounce as he springs back up, offering a hand to help you sit back up.

“Now my fair maiden, what film dost thou choose?”

He holds up both cases, the choice of movie concealed by the large Family Video logo. You purse your lips, glancing back and forth between the cases as if looking at them longer would somehow reveal the title beneath.

“That one.”

You point to the one in his left hand, and Eddie tosses the other back onto the coffee table. He pops open the plastic case and chuckles before looking up at you.

“Texas Chainsaw it is.” He grins, removing the tape from its case and heading toward the TV.

Eddie crouches down, balancing on the soles of his feet as he loads the tape into the VCR. our eyes can’t help but wander across the expanse of his broad shoulders and down his back. The hem of his shirt rides up ever so slightly as he reaches to switch the tv on, exposing the band of his boxer shorts and the pale skin of his lower back.

“However,” he continues, glancing over his shoulder at you. His eyes are warm and full of mischief. “You are not leaving this trailer until you get to experience the cinematic masterpiece that is Ridley Scott’s Alien.”

The playful threat has your whole body warming, feeling thankful when he finally switches off the lamp. The darkness of the room is a welcome reprieve with only his silhouette visible, illuminated by the glow from the TV. He bounds back over and takes the seat beside you.

You allow yourself to sink further into the sofa while Eddie grabs something off the side table. The spark of the lighter ignites the handsome features of his face, and the slight stubble along his jaw. His plush lips carefully wrap around the end of the joint, cheeks hollowing slightly as he inhales deeply.

The sight alone sends a delightful shiver up your spine, shifting your gaze back toward the television as the smoke billows out from between his lips.

“Are you cold?” he asks, draping his arm over the back of the sofa in search of the old quilt that was previously thrown over it.

But said quilt had unfortunately fallen behind the sofa in the midst of your scuffle, well beyond his reach now. Eddie leans in closer, cursing softly under his breath as he attempts to locate the missing quilt in the dark. You can feel the warmth radiating from his chest, which causes another shiver to pass through you.

“Maybe a little,” you murmur.

And the male doesn’t complain when you nuzzle yourself further into his side, happily curling his arm around your shoulders. He takes another hit from the joint as the trailers continue to flash across the screen, the upcoming releases now the furthest thing from your mind.

“You want some?” He holds the joint out toward you, blowing some smoke out the corner of his mouth. “No pressure, of course.”

You carefully take it from him, your fingers brushing against his own in the process. Despite your initial reservations, you immediately lift the joint to your lips, feeling his eyes continue to linger on your features. In your nervous haste you inhale a little too quickly, the smoke evading your lungs in sharp fragments that has you immediately coughing it back up.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy there, killer,” he teases, gently rubbing your back, the touch a welcome distraction. “You gotta inhale slower.”

He takes the joint back from you, keeping it between his fingers while you continue to cough your lungs up. You’re very thankful he can’t see the way your eyes are watering as another cough racks through your chest.

“Have you ever smoked before?” he asks, only curiosity lacing his tone.

“Um, once,” cough. “In the ninth grade when I stole a cigarette out of my aunt’s purse.”

The memory is sparked, causing a smile to tug at the corner of your mouth. Your Aunt Bev had been visiting from Reno for Christmas, like she did every year. The eccentric woman was always decked out in colorful rhinestones and bright blue eyeshadow, spinning wild tales of her nights out on the strip much to the chagrin of your mother.

But you had never seen her without a trusty pack of Camel Turkish Golds.

So when one of your older cousins claimed you were too much of a prissy pants to join in on their smoke session (aka the infamous cousin walk), you took it upon yourself to swipe one from her purse and hoped she wouldn’t notice. But you received the lecture of a lifetime from her when you came back looking guilty and smelling like nicotine.

As you recount the tale back to him, you purposely leave out the part where you almost threw up in a snowbank because you were coughing so hard. No need to subject him to that visual. And while that experience had you swearing off cigarettes for the rest of your life, that didn’t mean you should deny yourself this one…right?

“Well your aunt’s absolutely right you know,” he says after a moment, that mischievous sparkle back in his eyes. “Cigarettes are terrible for you.”

You go to reach for that pillow again, ready to whack him in the head for good measure but Eddie chucks it across the room before you even have a chance to grab it. The pillow narrowingly misses the tv set by an inch, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

“Ah, ah ah!” he tuts, wagging a finger in front of your face. “Don’t mess with the mane, sweetheart.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes fondly before turning your attention back to the movie. But Eddie keeps his gaze on you, admiring how the soft glow highlights the features of your face. Your nose, which scrunches up in the cutest way whenever you’re annoyed. Your gentle eyes, that look at him as if he could do no wrong. And your lips—god, your lips. They’re slightly pouted, shiny with spit.

And Eddie's perverted mind can’t help but start to wander. He wonders how your lips would feel wrapped around him, or if those pretty eyes would roll back when he buried his tongue inside you.

Jesus H. Christ, was it getting hotter in here?

Eddie wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, willing all the blood in his body to stop rushing South.

Popping a boner during a horror flick, that’ll really impress her, idiot.

God, he was too sober for this.

The male quickly tears his gaze away from you, picking up the lighter and relighting the forgotten joint. He doesn’t notice your eyes drifting back toward him, like a moth to a flame.

He inhales deeply, allowing the smoke to curl into his lungs and dull his sexually intrusive thoughts. But he feels you staring, your eyes transfixed on where the smoke billows out from between his lips. He glances at the joint, then back at you. Then Eddie gets an idea, an awful, sinful idea.

He whispers your name as the room is bathed in darkness again, giving him the final push he needs.

“I want to try something…” he mumbles, carefully removing your glasses and placing them on the coffee table. “Do you trust me?”

You nod automatically.

“Then come here,” he says, voice hoarse.

And when you crawl into his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips…

Eddie is a goner.

Miraculously, he manages to keep his composure, despite the way his heart is about to leap out of his chest. You’ve never been this close before, where he can feel the warmth of your thighs seeping into his jeans and smell the faint perfume lingering on your neck.

Even in the dark, he can see that flicker of bashfulness cross over your features, that sudden urge to avoid his heated stare. To tuck in on yourself, to hide away. But to his surprise, you hold his gaze, bold and unwavering when one of his hands falls to rest on your hip. He attempts to soothe you, his thumb circling up and under your shirt.

“Inhale slowly, alright?” he gently reminds you.

His other hand brings that joint back to his full lips, the cherry end igniting brightly as he inhales.

Only this time when he lowers the joint, he leans forward. His lips brush against yours until they part beneath his own, the smoke slithering out and into your awaiting mouth. You inhale slowly—just as he instructed and let the smoke curl in and around your lungs.

And when you breathe out, he’s right there, inhaling the dissipating smoke into his own mouth with a proud smile.

“See? You’re a natural.”

Eddie takes another long drag and leans in again, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw. And maybe it’s the look in his eye or the weed beginning to lull your nerves, but you fist the collar of his shirt and pull him into you, crashing your lips together for the second time that evening.

The male barely manages to discard the joint before he’s reeling you back in, tongue gliding over your lower lip and into your awaiting mouth. You taste like Juicy Fruit and a hint of purple palm tree delight, a combination that sets every nerve in his body on fire.

Your fingers wind into the hair at the nape of his neck, gently tugging and earning you a throaty moan. Eddie swears he’s lost it when your sweet moans begin to echo his own. The sound travels straight down, where his cock is straining pathetically against the seam of his jeans.

An uphill battle he’s been fighting since you kissed him in the parking lot of Family Video.

And when you feel that hardness pressing against your inner thigh, it only encourages you to keep going. Giving an experimental roll of your hips that has Eddie’s head lolling back onto the cushions, a choked sound resembling a whine escapes his mouth.

This new position provides you with easier access to his throat, giving you a surge of confidence before your lips find a home there and teeth nip wherever they can find purchase.

Eddie pants as your lips only trail lower, a grunt of your name mixes with a slew of curses when you suck a large bruise onto the base of his throat. Your lips make an audible pop when they detach from his skin and you lean back to assess the damage with a satisfied grin. He looks beautifully wrecked, lips swollen and eyes glossy.

You trace over the blossoming shades of red and purple on his neck with your fingertips, humming softly when you feel a shiver pass through him.

“My turn,” he insists, gently tipping your head back.

When he leans forward, lips brushing against your collarbone, he can almost taste the spiked punch from earlier. A bitter, yet sugary sweet flavor that has him groaning low in his throat. The sound reverberates through your chest and has your hips grinding harder against his own.

The fabric of your panties are completely soaked, making a mess on the front of his jeans with each frantic buck of your hips. His fingers begin to trail lower, sneaking under your skirt and grazing over the elastic of your panties. Feeling emboldened, you take his wrist, pressing the heel of palm against your center.

“Oh shit,” he groans, fingers circling up and over your aching core. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, sweetheart.”

You can only manage a soft whine in response, allowing him to guide your head back down to capture your lips together.

An abrupt knock sounds just as a blood curdling scream erupts from the television. Both noises pull you apart with a sudden start, which has you nearly falling backwards off his lap and onto the floor below. But Eddie keeps a steady grip on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he huffs out a breath of frustration.

“Pizza’s here.”

series taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore @mylovelycrazyworld @princesssunderworld @scarlet-bitch @thecreelhouse @vamp-bunny @notwantingtoadult @keeksandgigz @avobabe87 @kellsck @definitionwanderlust @ainelantv @bring-it-on-back

[xmunsonlovex]

Flattery works with me.

[xmunsonlovex]

The gods have rendered their judgment.

Gladiator II (2024) dir. Ridley Scott

[xmunsonlovex]

JOSEPH QUINN as GETA | part 1

Gladiator II (2024) dir. Ridley Scott

[xmunsonlovex]

of course i fell in love with him. he is sopping wet and miserable

[xmunsonlovex]

joseph quinn on the set of stranger things (2020)

[xmunsonlovex]

PEDRO PASCAL with PAUL MESCAL, and JOSEPH QUINN in a new commercial by Cinepolis for GLADIATOR II

[xmunsonlovex]

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Fem!Servant Reader

Disclaimer: Can be read alone but you can also read PART ONE for more context. minimal research, probable historical inaccuracies. It’s the Roman Empire: ergo, no consent given.

Warnings: NO MINORS 🔞 ONLY 18+, NSFW, THERE DO BE SMUT, mentions of blood, mentions of a blade, ass play, blowjob, fingering. This is pretty filthy - sorry not sorry…

REBLOGS MAKE MY HEART SING 🥰

•••

Three times he’d summoned you to his chambers since the day he broke down in your arms.

Manhandled you roughly into his lap and demanded you ride his dick until you moaned and clenched and came around him.

Whimpered softly as his brain went still, panting and shooting hot ropes inside you until his chest heaved with sobs, mouth searching for yours in the dark with a whisper of praise.

Three times he’d pushed you off him in a panic and told you to leave, threatening your life if you betrayed his confidence.

This time is different…

•••

You weren’t expecting to be woken in the middle of the night, ripped from slumber by a soldier who shoved you half dressed from the servant quarters, barking orders at you to attend to Geta immediately.

You tie the cord around your tunic and force yourself awake, hurrying to his room as instructed.

He’s pacing back and forth when you arrive, muttering under his breath, angry.

The second you step into the room he’s next to you, one hand gripping your neck and shoving you hard against the wall.

Geta stands so close you can feel his heavy breaths fan across your face, can see his nostrils flare with each ragged exhale. Spit gathers at the corners of his mouth, although for now he says nothing. His eyes are wild, dark as the night outside while he scowls down at you.

He raises his free hand slowly and you feel the cold blade of his dagger being dragged along your cheek. You suck a gasp of air through your teeth as the tip is pressed firmly into your soft skin, sharp metal biting at the hinge of your jaw.

“I warned you not to speak of things…”

“I- I didn’t, my Lord” your voice quivers as his face draws closer.

Geta’s lip curls in disgust, and he digs the blade harshly into your flesh, just enough until you feel a warm droplet of blood gather once his dagger is withdrawn.

“When people talk of things they do not know…when they lie…others will assume things that are not true. I will not have subjects thinking I am weak” His hand grips your chin, nose pressed to yours as his whisper turns dark and sinister, words falling from his lips thick and slow like syrup “I could kill you right this second if I wanted to…could gut you in an instant and watch the lifeblood drain from you whilst you lie at my feet.”

His solid forehead pushes angrily into you, fingers still grabbing your face as the drop of blood smears beneath his fingertips. Geta’s weight shifts forward, dipping to lick the blood from your cheekbone, and you notice something else hard pressing into your thigh.

Before you can stop yourself, your tongue darts across your lower lip, gaze dropping to his groin. Geta notices instantly, grasp painful on your upper arm as he spins you around, pushing you face first into the wall. The dagger is stabbed fiercely into the heavy drapes, material ripping loudly next to your head. His mouth is wet at your ear while he positions you.

“As I was saying, whore, if I wanted to. Presently, you still have a use to me.”

Cool air dances around your legs and travels up your thighs while Geta shoves the tunic unceremoniously above your waist with one hand, freeing himself from his robes with the other. His cock is hot and leaking as he grinds it against you, fingers digging in to your side - bruising the skin to hold you in place while his hips thrust slowly, rubbing the velvety skin on the underside of his dick up and down between the soft flesh your cheeks.

Making you hold your own tunic up out of his way, Geta places both of his hands on your ass and splays them to get a better view. A warm trickle of spit lands without warning and your body stiffens with a gasp at the unexpected sensation. He brings a thumb to you and rubs small circles of his self made lubricant over your tight hole with a hiss.

You weren’t anticipating that you’d enjoy the feeling of someone touching you there, and yet your nerves are aflame in the best way possible, adrenaline rushing like fire through your veins, especially when he hums in appreciation at the way you clench, whimpering when he tests a press to your entrance.

Geta eases the very tip of his thumb into your ass, drawing a shaky exhale from your lips at the surprisingly pleasant intrusion. When your head drops backwards, his mouth dips to rest against the shell of your ear as he presses slightly further.

“Good” He mutters “…good”

Despite yourself, that single word of lust-fuelled praise from the Emperor has your hips jutting backwards for more with a thready moan. Geta reaches his hand around you, fingers wrapping themselves with a squeeze at the sides of your throat, giving an enthusiastic grunt when you take his thumb to the first knuckle, his dick kicking up against the flesh of your ass.

Your body trembles in delight at the feeling of fullness, nerve endings tingling like you’ve never experienced before at the way he’s playing with you somewhere new. Just as his teeth begin to leave a stinging bite to your shoulder, a loud hammering erupts at the door of his chambers and shatters the moment into dust that billows away from you like smoke on a breeze.

Geta roars in anger at the interruption, separating himself from you with a string of expletives to snatch up his dagger, stalking to the noise incandescent with rage. He throws the heavy door open so forcefully it slams hard into the wall behind.

You catch a glimpse of one of the army generals with his soldiers before it swings back and slams behind Geta, solid wood still doing little to dampen his fury - now fully directed at the bearer of ill-timed news. You think you hear Caracalla’s name mentioned among the shouting, after which there’s a sickening string of thuds against the chamber door, followed by a flurry of calls and heavily booted footsteps, a maniacal laughter echoing along the halls that you clearly recognise as belonging to Geta.

Pained cries send a cold shiver down your spine as they dissipate through the corridor, eerie silence following. Your heart beats faster in your chest as the door reopens, eyes instantly darting to the smears of scarlet on the walls and floor that match the bright red stains on his hands.

“Do not bother yourself to fret over a little blood.” Geta glances at you whilst reaching forward to wipe the claret off his blade with the material of your tunic “He’ll live. For now.”

You’re more than aware of how Geta and his brother behave, had been even before you were imprisoned to a life of serving them. They’d been notorious for their heavy handed tyranny throughout the empire. But still, seeing him standing before you with literal blood on his hands was jarring in a way you hadn’t anticipated. You stare at him wide-eyed, jaw hanging open with a confusing swirl of emotions swelling in your chest.

He circles you like a shark closing in on its prey, dagger still clamped in one fist with a grip so tight his knuckles begin to turn white. A sardonic smile curves his mouth, fingers of his free hand grazing the side of your neck, slipping under the collar of your tunic to stroke at your skin. Geta notices the hitch of your chest at the return of his touch, pupils darkening.

“Tell me, ancilla…do you fear me?”

Your mouth is dry, tongue sticking to your teeth as you struggle to know what answer he requires. You decide honesty is best.

“Sometimes, my lord…”

“Only sometimes? Mmm…” Geta almost sounds pleased, humming like your answer has amused him.

Reaching to empty his chalice of wine in one gulp, he walks towards an ornately carved mahogany chair at the foot of his bed. The rounded wooden back curves perfectly to his body, a purple silk upholstery complimenting the grain of the wood.

Geta leans back, legs spreading comfortably wide in the oversized chair. His eyes lock you in place, drinking you in as he speaks.

“Do not make the grave error of mistaking any shred of mercy I may display as a sign of weakness…”

“I do not think you weak, Emperor”

“No?” He plays the dagger up and down along the pads of his fingertips. It seems he’s rather enjoying your boldness.

“No…”

“Then what am I?”

You keep your eyes locked on his and take a few steps forward, coming to a stop between his open legs and dropping to your knees. A ringed hand catches you by the chin on your way down, gaze flitting to your lips before drifting back up. A knot of muscle pulses at his jawline.

“I asked you a fucking question. It would serve you well to answer me, lest I grow impatient. What. Am. I?”

Geta leans forward, chair creaking under his weight in an otherwise silent room. The cold point of his dagger presses to the dip of your throat, igniting a fire behind your ribcage.

He watches hungrily as you match his stare and swallow, throat moving seductively against the blade; feels your fingertips reach under his robes and skate up to his wide thighs. He matches your dark smirk when your hands finally land on his aching cock.

Your gaze never falters from Geta’s face as you lower your mouth to claim the prize, voice a husky whisper dripping like syrup over his skin.

“Powerful…”

A groan rumbles from deep in his chest, and there’s a split second where something sparks behind his usually vacant eyes before Geta grips a fistful of your hair and tugs you down. He’s expecting a pitiful whimper but all he hears is the way you moan in pleasure when your lips close around his leaking tip, vibrations rocketing all the way to his balls.

Your tongue runs teasingly over his slit, hand gripping him at the base while you lower your mouth until he fills it, full and heavy. A hiss of air escapes between Geta’s teeth, hips jerking up towards the back of your throat while he holds you in place.

Letting him fall from your mouth with a little pop, you work him with your hand - gathering your saliva and his juices with sinful noises that cause flutters to pulse between your legs. You lick a wet stripe along the veins of his shaft, swirling your tongue, suckling gently at the head until his groans fill your ears. Immediately, you drop down to take one of his balls in your mouth, catching him by surprise. Geta curses furiously, but urges you lower with the hand still cupping the back of your head.

Guided by his apparent enjoyment, you let a hand drift to the sensitive spot of skin just below his balls and press gently. Your reward is the tightening of his fingers on your scalp, another strained whisper of his praise making you clench your thighs together while the hard floor bites at the skin of your knees.

You take him in your mouth again, until your nose is pressed into his wiry thatch of hair and he nudges at your throat with a grunt of pleasure. Hollowing your cheeks, you hum into his dick and bob your head a couple of times, drawing up to the tip before sucking him all the way back in - over and over until he chokes on your name. You didn’t realise he knew it…

Saliva drips down his cock and over your hand, slicking your fingers that still rub the sensitive spot behind his balls. An idea forms in your mind. Without hesitation, you slip a finger further between Geta’s thighs and press gently until the tip breaches his hole. A strangled groan rips from his core, string of expletives confirming your suspicion that he’d like it.

Shifting your position, you kneel higher, holding his entire length in your mouth. You swallow around him and the sensation makes Geta rut his hips - forcing himself to the back of your throat. You gag, withdrawing briefly to catch your breath, sucking eagerly at his tip as you crook your finger inside him.

Geta groans and curses loudly, breath hitching as his cock suddenly throbs between your lips - hot spurts of his release coating your tongue. You let him fall from your mouth and see his chest heave as he regains composure, watching as he leans forward until his elbows rest on his knees, eye line now catching yours with a tilted head.

As you rock back on your heels, Geta’s hand grabs your jaw. You still hold his load in your mouth, and feel it start to drip from the corners of your lips as his fingers press into your cheeks. He watches, pupils blown wide with lust at the sight of his cum trickling down your chin.

“Show me” He demands, and heat bursts like fireworks in your core.

Parting your lips and offering your tongue, you open for him to see his seed. Geta hums in appreciation, holding you in place to appreciate the view.

“Now swallow it all” His voice is low, breath fanning across the tip of your nose.

You do as you’re told, watching his lips kick up in a satisfied smirk. His eyes darken, shining in the low light as his grip tightens and he tilts your head backwards. A shiver runs down your spine at the feel of his mouth on your throat, trailing heat upwards until his tongue licks the remnants of his cum off your chin. You gasp in response and he covers your mouth with a fiery kiss, stealing a taste of himself with a muffled groan.

The throbbing between your thighs grows until it becomes painful, so you shift to provide a little friction, easing the discomfort until Geta notices - he scowls, one hand reaching to pull your legs apart and the other holding you tightly so your chest remains flush to his knees.

“You take only what I give you, do you understand?”

“Yes my lord, I’m sorry…” your eyes close, waiting for a punishment, but are surprised by the feeling of his fingers reaching round to squeeze at the flesh of your inner thigh.

“Mm, I know. You always are. However, you have worked exceptionally hard tonight. That shall not go unrewarded.”

You suck a gasp of air as his thumb moves, barely grazing at your swollen clit. He continues to tease you, finger gliding slowly through your slick folds - toying with your pleasure but never quite allowing you the friction to get what you need. Another swipe across your nub makes you choke on a desperate sob, hips trying to buck into his hand.

Geta chuckles darkly before giving in, his middle finger filling you until his chunky ring is pressed into your skin. He feels you flutter around him, but refuses to move - instead he keeps his hand still and returns to slowly playing with you until your thighs start to tremble.

“Open your eyes,” He instructs “I want to watch you claim your prize”

Your vision is hazy with desire, but you manage to glance up and meet his gaze. In return, Geta starts to rock his finger inside you - increasing the pressure that builds in your gut. The knot pulls tight at your core when his thumb quickens on your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

Your mouth hangs open as you pant, climbing the crest of the wave that’s about to crash around you. Geta releases your arm and moves his free hand to slide two fingers between your lips. His own jaw drops open with a groan of praise, hungry eyes locked on yours - that’s when the coil snaps. You moan around his fingers and pulse furiously between your legs as you cum so hard your head spins and you can barely catch your breath.

Removing his hands, you slump to the floor a sweaty mess, and he makes no effort to stop you - instead, Geta rises from his seat and steps around your body to pour himself more wine before opening the doors to his balcony, cool air drifting in to billow at the drapes.

Forcing yourself up on wildly unsteady legs, you readjust your tunic and stand. When you’re met with only the view of his back from where he stands, broad shoulders silhouetted by the moonlight, you take a deep breath and turn to make your exit.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

His firm voice halts you in your tracks. Spinning on your heels, you see him looking at you over his shoulder.

“My apologies, Emperor,” you bow in supplication “…you usually wish to be alone once we are finished”

“Did I say we were finished? Were you excused?”

“No.”

“Then you should know better.” Geta pulls some grapes from the platter next to him and stalks towards you.

“Yes, my lord. Please, what do you wish me to do for you before returning to my quarters?”

His hand reaches to untie your tunic, letting it fall to the floor. Goosebump scatter on your skin at the exposure to the cooler air, but the heat in his eyes as he rakes his gaze up and down your body makes you feel like you’ve been set on fire from the inside out.

“You will not be returning to your quarters tonight…”

•••

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THANK YOU FOR READING 🫶🏻

FYI: The term ‘ancilla’ that Geta uses means female servant or slave

Zero pressure tags in case some moots would like to read @choke-me-eddie @joesquinns @ceriseheaven @mrsjellymunson @tomtomslongdong @trashmouth-richie @songforeddiemunson @josephfakingquinn

[xmunsonlovex]