#catherine the great x reader

[princesssmars]

love's philosophy

a catherine the great x reader

during a political trip to russia, you meet the rather peculiar emperor and his no less than extraordinary new bride.

wc: 5.779

contains: fluff bc catherine is a cutie who can do no wrong. me hating on peter. peter cheats (boo). catherine almost cheats (yay). i binged the show months ago so some things might not be accurate im sorry yall.

the only thing you could see outside of the carriage window were woods. cold, thin, and mostly dead.

what you guess would be the typical landscape for an russian spring.

but, occasionally, youd catch the patches of green of the rising grass, the small buds of blooming tree blossoms, and the rare small animal making its way from its winter slumber.

you hoped these signs of new and returning life were signs of what was to happen on this trip.

you and two of your most entrusted advisors had been sent to negotiate some new trade deals with peter, the emperor of russia. he had taken the throne after his fathers passing a few years ago, and youd heard many things about him through the grapevine.

(granted, none of the things you heard were very pleasant. in your opinion, he sounded like a bit of a man-child, unfit for the throne after his father's passing. but you kept these thoughts to you. this would help your country prosper, and create a hopefully helpful alliance.)

"i just want to remind you, princess, that things work very differently here in russia," your best friend and first advisor, anna, whispers from beside you, her big fur coat and scarf nearly obstructing your view of her face. her worried eyes peeked out from the gaps and you'd had to try not to laugh when you saw it. "its nothing like genovia here. the people are crass, rude, vulgar-"

"sounds like this will be a fun trip then." you jest, cutting off your dear friends ramblings and smiling when she glares at you. she always was a bit of a worrywart. but it was endearing.

"normally id critique our dear annas worrying, but this time she is right." a deep voice pipes up from in front of you both. the person in question is your other friend and advisor, thomas. he was the more critical and pessimistic of the two, but he was a softie at heart. "things work differently here, so we should tread wuth caution. i should give you some warnings before we enter the palace."

"alright, what do i need to know?" you sigh, relaxing into your seat. this could take a while.

"as you most likely already know, the new czar peter has taken over after the death of his father, also named peter. stop smiling, yn. the boy is much different than his father, known for his rather...extravagant ways. just try not to piss him off. he should be a bit more mello after marrying his new bride."

your head perks up. "bride? i didn't hear anything about a bride. why haven't i heard that hes been married? shouldn't you have told me this?"

thomas' eyes widen as he tries to argue against it before realizing that yes, he somehow forgot to tell you. he tries to ignore anna's teasing face.

"my apologies for forgetting, princess. yes, he has recently married a girl from france. her name is catherine. from what i've heard shes a rather timid girl, at least to russian standards. there should be no trouble on the front."

his knowing stare on you makes you pout. so yes, you might have slightly flirted with the wife of the ruler of italy. and you might have ended up in the same bed with her. whoops. but to be fair, she told you how dreadfully boring her husband was and how she was looking for something exciting and new in her life, looking at you with those big, wanting eyes...

"yn! stop daydreaming!" annas elbow nudges you, pulling you from your memory. your face feels hot when both of your friends laugh at you.

"oh please, you both know me. ill be on my best behavior. princess's promise."

.

.

.

so you might have fumbled with the promise. just a little.

after a long...loooong ride, you all had finally arrived at the russian winter palace, the grand estate nearly taking your breath away. or maybe that was the biting cold. your admiration was cut short by a gruff voice welcoming you. it came from a tall and stout man, his white wig contrasting against his flushed face and permanent frown.

"welcome to the palace, your royal highness. my name is velementov, peters war general. i've been tasked with escorting you inside safely. if you'll follow me."

he immediately starts towards the entrance, forgetting to check if you were following. as hes walking he nearly trips over some of the gravel on the ground. thomas whips his head over to you and anna when he hears a muffled giggle.

"sorry, that one was me." anna whispers, trying to compose herself.

you and your party follow the general in to the palace, walking through the grand halls and admiring the art within them. including the massive statue of peter the first.

"oh, this is just a great piece of work," anna awes, craning her neck up to observe the statue in greater detail. "how long did it take to complete?"

"i don't really remember. maybe two years." the general grunts, taking a pause before continuing on his way. the look on thomas' face makes you think hes regretting this decision.

eventually the peculiar general stops at two large doors, leading to what you presume is peters chambers.

"um, shouldn't we do this somewhere more formal? a meeting room or parlor, for example." thomas says, walking a bit faster while speaking to walk directly next to velementov.

"ideally yes, but first i must check if the prince is ready to meet you. he could still be hungover. or fucking. or both."

the three of you are a bit too stunned to react.

when velementov opens the doors, the muffled sounds of grunting, moaning, and a loud thumping on the walls rings through the hallway leading to peters bedroom. velemontov grunts, whispering something to one of the guards before escorting the three of you back into the wider hallways.

"peters busy. until he's ready you may be escorted by a guard around the toyr of the palace. they will lead you to the meeting room when we're ready. goodbye."

velementov briskly (as briskly as a clearly hungover man can go) walks away, not even checking to see if what he said was alright with you. three guards come up to you, their faces and postures remaining stoic.

"ohhhhhkay. alright, this is fine!" anna chirps, clearly trying to hold herself and the two of you together. "we are just. alone in a strangers castle in a strange country. this is ok. i wont freak out."

"good, because there is nothing to freak out about." thomas reassures her, sounding more like hes trying to convince himself. "we expected this, so lets make the most of it, hm? its a beautiful palace, and we can explore it while each looking for some of peters advisors."

"so try to find the people who hopefully have common sense?" you question, eyeing the way the guards eyebrows raise in shock at your not so subtle disrespect.

"exactly." thomas agrees, the three of you agreeing before heading off in seperate directions of the russian castle.

what you see along your short journey is nothing short of shocking yet amusing. multiple couples unsuccessfully hiding in the shadows while having intercourse, drunk soldiers and children running through the halls, with parents and hungover residents looking on in annoyance.

eventually you pass two large open doors which you can see lead to a library. walking in you see its quite expansive, with practically no one inside.

(to be expected, you didn't think most of the people here could read a paragraph let alone complete a book.)

you walk inside and observe, walking through the aisles and touching the spines of the novels. most of it seems to be in russian, of course, but maybe there was an international section...

while thinking, your mind spaces out and is only brought back when the body of another knocks into yours, the books they were carrying falling to the floor.

"oh my gosh, im so sorry. i wasn't looking where i was headed, here let me help you with those," rushes from your mouth, quickly dropping to the floor to help pick up the books for them; A Guide To Russian History and The Insides of Russian Aristocracy.

"no, no, don't apologize. I wasn't looking where i was headed because i was reading this book about...nevermind." the stranger says before joining you on the floor before also trying to pick up their books.

its only after the stranger speaks and you see their pale, slender hand on top of yours that you look up to meet eyes, your e/c meeting piercing blue.

its a woman, and not just any woman but a gorgeous one. she has fair skin, smooth and with nearly no blemishes at all, surprising since most of the other members of the court you've passed at least had a tint to their cheeks whether it be from sickness, alcohol, or both.

she has a striking face, both angular yet soft. it makes her beauty both intimidating yet welcoming. and at this moment you don't know which one you feel.

the both of you still for a moment, observing the other for longer than what was most likely deemed polite. you were speechless until you noticed one of the most striking things about her - her naturally blonde hair. youve seen a few other women here who were blonde but you could tell they were wearing wigs. with no shame of course, it was a regular among members of court life nowadays. but hers had that growth and effortlessness that let you know it was all hers.

"you aren't from here, are you? im guessing western europe, maybe france, germany?" you suddenly ask, finding yourself intrigued with this beautiful stranger you've met in an otherwise empty library. her face lights up at your question, making you glad she didn't find it rude.

"yes, born and raised in germany, how could you tell?" her questions makes you raise your brow, looking from her eyes to her hair. she catches on and laughs, looking down in slight embarrassment. "right, sorry. silly question."

"it wasn't silly, don't worry. i just asked because i was curious why you don't look like the rest of the court members. are you visiting from your home?" you quickly reassure her, not liking the slightly sad look that appeared on her face when she called herself silly. she looked much better with a smile.

her brows slightly scrunch together, looking to the floor before back to you with a sure smile. "yes, im visiting for a while. sent to study the russian culture and all, trying to help with politics."

"another thing we have in common, and thank god for it. i swear i was so nervous about me and my party being the only foreigners here." you exclaim, resting your hands on the mystery woman's shoulders in excitement. "would you mind chatting with me and telling me what you've learned? im sure there's some things i can tell you as well."

her eyes are wide and her face is bright as she stares into your eyes, nodding along to answer your questions. its just when you realize your hands are still on her shoulders and when she reaches hers up to gently grab your elbows, yet again dropping the books in her hands. you both look at the fallen materials for a second before looking back to each other and giggling.

.

.

.

you had spent who knows how many hours talking with the blonde woman, who you'd come to know was named sophie, about subjects ranging from politics to your home countries to even your favorite foods. you found her point of view on things interesting, her positivity coming off a bit naive but refreshing. but beneath it you sense a bit of sadness.

"are you feeling alright?" your questions cuts her off from what she was saying. she was enthusing about how she misses the landscapes form her home, how when she looks out the palace windows she can feel bits of herself start to wither away just like the outside landscape. she says it so calmly that you cant help but ask the question.

in response shes quiet, staring at you like you just asked her is she preferred to eat chicken eggs or duck eggs for breakfast.

"jesus, when's the last time someone asked you that question?" you put a hand on her shoulder, your tone playful in the hope she wouldn't answer. but the look on her face gave you your answer.

"if im being honest...it's been quite a while. if i tell you this, will you promise to keep it secret?" she asks, her voice unsteady with the hesitance of telling a stranger the problems of her current life.

"cross my heart and hope to die." you dramatically cross your hands over your bust, smiling when she manages a laugh at your theatrics.

she sighs, putting her hands in her lap and closing her eyes. "i have a husband, back home. arranged marriage." her eyes peak open to look at you, and you hurry to fix the look on your face from one of disappointment to understanding. "i was so hopeful before the wedding, but then i met and moved in with him and it's nothing how i imagined it would be. he's nothing like i hoped for. and i know i now have a duty to my country and people but i only have one other person to voice my sadness and just...anger to. but it doesn't feel like enough. i feel like i need to do more to fix my life or i'll go insane."

at the end of her rant she lets out a long sigh, relaxing her shoulders and slumping back into the wall behind you. she looks at you for your reaction to see you smiling at her. "what could possibly be amusing right now?"

"nothing, nothing. it's not everyday you meet a beautiful monarch on the edge of killing her husband. well, i take that back." she rolls her eyes and gently smacks your arm at your jest.

"i just poured out feelings i've only told my most trusted servant and you're going to joke around with me?"

"i've found that during the most dire times, nothing makes me feel better than saying 'fuck all' and laughing."

she sits in silence, staring at you as she seems to think over your words. it feels like the two of you are drifting closer together, her blue eyes flicking from your eyes to lower to lower-

"yn! yn are you nearby?" the loud voice of anna from outside the library causes both of you to flinch and look to the doors, waiting with held breaths as the sounds of annas heels pass by. the sound of her crying out your name grows quieter, but you both know you have to depart soon.

"i suppose that means i have to go now," you groan, standing up and smoothing out the fabric of your dress as you look sophie. shes just looking at you with those big blue eyes of hers until she collects herself as well, "its time for me to see the emperor, i suppose. will i see you around the palace any time soon?"

"yes, you'll be seeing me around. at least i hope so." her gentle admission makes you smile, and she clasps her hands together in slight nervousness. "i don't have many friends here. its nice to talk to someone who understands."

you smile at each other for a few seconds more until the sound of anna's voice rings out in the halls again. wanting to stop her before she causes a ruckus, you sidestep sophie and leave the library quickly, heading towards your duties and leaving her behind in the library.

.

.

.

“where have you been? i've been looking for you all over this god-forsaken palace!” annas harsh whisper spits at you, the shorter woman grabbing your arm and yanking you towards her as she continues walking down one of the wide halls of the palace.

"im sure they heard you over in india, my dear friend," you tease, letting out a squeak when she pinches your arm, "i was just in the library and having a very interesting conversation with a young woman when-"

"dont even finish that sentence. i dont want to to know what you get up to in the shadows with young women." anna groans and stops walking when you get to a quaint but grandiose set of doors. she pushes them open to reveal a grand bedroom, fit with a small area to converse with others over tea and snacks, a wide desk near the window with your bags containing your papers and documents set beside it, and the back of the room contains a large bed and intricate designs on the bedframe and sheets.

“nice of him to give us a grand room after his grand absence.” you deadpan, nodding thanks to anna and flopping down on the chaise near the fireplace. you kick your feet up and let out a long groan, closing your eyes and resting your arm over your eyes.

“dont talk like that, I heard he has spies inside of the walls,” anna jokes, closing the chamber doors and striding to sit in the armchair next to you. “besides, we’ve been formally invited to dine with the emperor, and his wife tonight, along with some of the other important members of his court. this could be your chance to judge his character, see what he's like to plan how you’ll go about your proposals with him for trading.”

you groan louder, smiling over at anna’s burst of laughter. “i have the feeling he'll be too consumed in drinking himself silly and doing whatever else these russians do."

"well then, lets at least get you dressed to the nines so he'll feel completely embarrassed that he turned down the chance to speak to you earlier." anna gets up and moves to your bags, propping them open and pulling out a gown that's not too gaudy but just lavish enough for a dinner with an emperor.

you smile, already imagining the look on the emperors' face when he realizes what an idiot he was for turning you down.

.

.

.

so, it turns out that peter was a bigger idiot than you thought.

upon entering the dining hall you come to see that the room is still mostly empty, save for a few maids preparing the table for dinner and what looks to be the chef getting into a heated debate with another servant.

walking over, the pair seem to stop speaking instantly when they notice you, bowing over as a sign of respect and not moving until you ask them a question.

“hello, i’m princess y/n. i was told i was to dine with the emperor and company, am i too early?”

“n-no your highness, i believe the emperor is a tad bit busy at the moment. he should be joining you soon.” the servant tells you, stuttering over some of his words as he fixes his position to look at you while speaking.

anna quickly takes her place in front of you, clearly able to tell by the shift in your stance that your mood has quickly soured upon hearing that peter has the gall to do this again. shes right in the middle of explaining when noises from the kitchen cause her and the room to go silent. you're on the verge of asking what it was when it comes about again.

moaning.

very damn loud moaning.

if you weren't so furious you'd be laughing your ass off, and by the way anna’s posture goes rigid you can tell she's holding herself back from doing the same. the chef and servant look so red you wouldn't be surprised if they were the tomatoes that were on the menu. you got the feeling that the embarrassment was from you having to bear witness, and that they'd likely been through this before.

“i think…we are going to find our seats now.” you let out a long exhale from your nose and smooth off your dress, putting on an amused and polite smile.

you roughly grab anna’s arm and pull her to the end of one of the tables, you sit yourself down in a chair in the middle of one of the side tables and she sits in the one to your left.

“look, your highness, we can walk through the gardens, w-we can go for another roundabout this damn gaudy castle, but can we please not stay here and listen to russian lovemaking session? and you've got that scheming look in your eye that you know i hate-”

“we’re staying here.” you cut her off, your tone letting her know your say is final. she fake pouts and sits correctly in her seat, staring at the wall ahead of her as you both try to ignore the familiar sounds of skin meeting and the rampant onslaught of moaning and groaning.

it feels like the longest few minutes of your life. as the seconds tick by a few more people slowly start to enter, all wearing posh clothing and powdered wigs that make it seem like they'd walked right out of a cheaper version of france. but you remain polite, smile, and do the basic introductions when they come up to you. you notice how they all ignore the unmistakable sounds of ecstasy from the kitchen as well.

you have to press your lips in a thin line when thomas rushes into the room and sits in the other chair next to you, hurriedly giving his greetings to the other court members and turning to you. he raises his brow in confusion at your teasing look, then follows your eyesight to the timid orlo who had entered the room and had sat near the head table. thomas’s face flushes when he turns back to you.

“stop it, nothing happened,” he whispers,” we discussed what's going to be addressed at your meeting with peter.”

your brow twitches.

“i think emperor peter has his hands full with other responsibilities.”

thomas’s mouth opens to ask you to elaborate when an “oh god, yes!” booms from the kitchen. anna snorts as his face shows mass embarrassment.

“he did tell us russians were very different, y/n.” anna jokes, butting her head from your side to look directly at thomas. “they’re crass, rude, and what was it, T? oh yes, vulgar.”

you’re on the brink of closing your eyes and banging your head on the table when the site of a familiar mop of bright blonde hair grabs your attention and nearly makes you sit straight up from your seat. you don't even hear the sound of your friends asking what the matter is, all you can hear is the sound of your heart beating erratically. it’d scare you half to death if you weren't so excited.

she makes eye contact with you and you smile, nodding politely. she nods back, looking on edge as she moves farther into the room.

“that's the woman i was talking to earlier,” you say, turning your head towards anna. she nods and smiles, and you decide not to acknowledge how it's the you've got another crush don't you bitch smile.

“she’s pretty.” anna whispers.

“she’s sophie.” you tell her.

“she’s princess catherine.” thomas butts in.

what.

you don't get the chance to question him when a man burst through the doors of the hall, his clothes in disarray and his hair even more so.

peter.

his beady blue eyes connect with yours, the man smiling as he would at an old friend and clapping his hands before raising them above his head.

“ah! your highness! welcome to the palace, i hope you've found your stay comfortable so far.” he greets you too little too late, getting distracted halfway through his sentence as a brunette woman in the same state of dishevelment, the pair smiling at each other as she passes to sit next to another man, his smile strained as she presses a kiss to his cheek.

“it’s certainly been memorable so far, your majesty,” you answer, your eyes following him as he moves next to soph-catherine, whose eyes dart between you and her apparent husband. she sits down, seeming to decide there’s no point in making eye contact as she stares at the china on the table.

“well, i hope during your stay you find many more things to remember. boris! bring us our food!” peter shouts, clapping his hands together as he turns toward the kitchen. it's a struggle to keep a courteous smile on your face.

the dinner is odd, to say the least. throughout most of it, peter is boasting about himself and his accomplishments, which honestly don't sound like anything important to you and more like thing your child brother was worrying about the last time you saw him. but he wasn't completely an idiot. just mostly.

the other half of your amusement comes from your new blonde friend. over the course of the dinner she continues to avoid you like the plague, only joining in conversation with you when prompted by peter. you aren't a fool, you know most diplomatic marriages are purely that, but you can help but notice the way she looks at him when he speaks. it's not just fatigue or distaste, its something more. something sharper.

when you and the other nobles have finished eating peter insists on moving the festivities to a parlor room, giving you some semblance of hope for a normal evening. which was quickly thwarted by the dancers and loud music and even more alcohol. its not all bad though, you get to see anna convince thomas to drink some hard liquor, resulting in him spouting from a chair about the history of the wood it was made from.

while laughing you notice from the corner of your eye catherine whisper something to one of the guards near the door before rushing out. looking around you, you see how no one seems to take much notice to the empress’s quick disappearance, so you simply stand up and walk out the door as well.

you underestimate how quickly the empress can walk, only able to catch glimpses of her skirts as she darts around hallway corners. after a few minutes of trailing her you find yourself in the palace gardens, only getting a few seconds to admire the hedges. catherine starts to slow down to catch a breather and you can faintly hear her muttering something to herself before you come up behind her.

“going for a little late night stroll, your majesty?” you question, keeping a cool smile when she turns around and looks at you like a startled doe.

“y/n, i mean, your highness, i didn't take you for a person who admires gardens.”

“and i didn't take you for someone to lie so easily, but i guess today is the day for surprises.”

you both go silent at your rebuttal, only the sounds of crickets in the garden and the faint noise of the still partying emperor in the distance being heard.

“i apologize, your majesty,” you sigh, remembering that you're here to make peace with the Russian and getting catty with them isn't the best idea. “i didn't mean to be rude. I'm just upset that you lied to me about who you were when i made it very clear who i was.”

catherine sighs as well, wringing her hands together as she steps closer yo you. “im sorry as well. for lying to you and avoiding you. its just that…you’re different than the other people around here.”

“i hadn't noticed. was it my complexion or my soberness?” you joke, laughing along with the empress when she giggles.

“more than that, you listened to me.”

the simple sentence felt like a light punch to the gut. it reminds you of the countless times you would sneak away to the village from your palace, conversing with the people in the market so you could have a normal conversation without someone sucking up to you. how you’d even settle for someone telling you off for bumping into their shoulders was appreciated because it was so real. you had to admit you had even found some joy and amusement in peter’s complete disregard for your visitation.

“i understand. truly, i do.” you mimic her previous actions and step closer, the distance between the two of you only about a few feet at this point. you take the chance to take her in more. they fly away hairs that frame her face, the few freckles that dust across her nose, and the softness of her lips…

she starts speaking again, causing you to compose yourself. slightly.

“thank god. it was just that as soon as you started talking to me like a human being i couldn't get enough of it.” she blurts, her lips pursing at the implications of what she said.

“its alright, i felt the same. i still do. I'm up for another chat as we walk if you are.”

she smiles. “i think i’ll take you up on that offer.”

the two of you talk about everything and nothing as you walk, with you teasing her for her rather foolish husband and her laughing along and agreeing. she tells you how often she’s found herself sick of him these past few weeks and that darkness returns to her eyes.

“i mean I've truly met some incompetent leaders but your husband truly takes the cake,” you chuckle as you slightly kick away a pebble. “im surprised no ones tried to overthrow him at this point.”

you keep walking for a few more steps before you notice catherine has stopped behind you, frozen in place. her face is conflicted, her lips in a pout and creases forming between her brows. you gently call her name and are shocked at the sudden intensity behind her eyes. even more so when her head darts to look around in all directions before she rushes to you and pulls you behind a bush and holds you by your shoulders.

“if i tell you something, something that could change you life, do you promise to keep it between us?”

“yes of course,” you answer, and you'd be slightly embarrassed at the speed of your answer if your brain wasn't preoccupied with her closeness.

“if i told you that someone was planning to revolt against peter, what would you say? honestly?”

“that it seems rather overdue at this point.”

her eyes scan your face, looking for something before she lets out a breath. “im planning a coup. against peter.”

you don't reply. you simply look at her, waiting for the crack of a smile or an eye roll or anything she didn't mean what she just said. but it doesn't come.

“you’re quite serious?” you ask.

“deadly. me, my handmaiden, and one of his advisors have been talking about it. we should have one of the generals on our side shortly and i thought with your support as well-”

“my support? catherine as much as i don't think that man should be on the throne, you do realize if this fails i could be targeted and killed?”

“we won't fail,” she states and says it with such assurance you find yourself fully believing her.

“well, how am i supposed to help from all the way in my country? it doesn't seem like peter is much interested in an alliance so me giving you resources isn't exactly on the table.”

“leave that to me. he’s done some horrible things to me in the last few weeks so if i ask for this as a gift i’m sure he’ll accept.” she tells, her grip on your shoulders steady as she gives you a bright smile.

you grin. “you really are something extraordinary, empress catherine.”

“sophie. you can call me sophie.”

her words are no more than a whisper, and its silent yet again. your eyes quickly look from her eyes to her lips to back, and you catch her doing the same. her head starts to lean in, and you slowly start to do the same until her lips graze yours-

“your majesty? catherine where are you?”

its almost violent the way you pull apart from each other, your respective hands quickly smoothing out your clothes to make sure you look presentable. when you finish your eyes look at each other, and she still has that dark look in hers with an added dash of a hunger you know all too well.

“catherine? are you over here-there you are. I've been looking everywhere for you.” orlo comes from around the corner, looking exasperated as he rests his hands on his hips. when he notices you however he resumes an appropriate posture. “your highness, im terribly sorry that i didn't see you. catherine, i will talk to you later-”

“its alright, orlo. i told her and she’s agreed to join us.”

“you what?”

.

.

.

the emperor's discussion room is wide and bright, the sun shining in the windows and creating a warm feeling. it could be because your friends are on both sides of you, or because catherine is sitting beside peter with a barely concealed look of excitement on her face.

“princess y/n! i apologize for yesterday. i was very busy, as you could see.” peter clasps his hands together and smiles at you like you understand his excuses.

“all is well, your majesty. i know that certain pleasures can distract us from our responsibilities. i don't mind. is there a reason you called me here?”

his eyes squint. “why yes. there is. i would like to officially form an alliance with genovia immediately. my wife here was telling me about your encounters yesterday and how you seem like a more than perfect ally.”

you and catherine share a look.

“where do i sign?”

its a rather quick process to sign a piece of paper that changes history, and when its over things feel different. permanent. peter gives you a handshake before departing, just leaving catherine. she warily opens her arms for a hug, and you envelop her in your arms.

“welcome to the winning side of history,” she whispers in your ear, and you can help the excitement that rushes through you.

#the great #the great show #the great hulu #catherine the great x reader #catherine x reader #peter iii of russia #orlo #miriam #the great x reader

[fujiihime]

Joseph Quinn's Other Characters Fics (Series/One-Shots) - I

I made a list of currently reading and recommended fics for Joseph Quinn's other characters here on Tumblr. All were beautifully written by amazing writers. These writers are incredible and full of brilliant ideas, so please visit their blogs and check all of their works. Happy reading! Don’t forget to comment and reblog their works. You may also reblog this list to share with everyone/blog mutuals. Thank you! (For 18+, MDNI)

Prince Paul (Catherine the Great)

Pick Your Poison | 2 | 3 by @punk-in-docs

Keep Watch Over The Door Of My Lips 

And The Stars Sighed In Unison

Lay No Claim | 2 by @the-suburban-blues

It Has Always Been You by @dingusfreakhxrrington

With Me Now by @the-suburban-blues

Our Duty & Birth Of 1st Child by @emmywrites-blog

Deserve Love Series | 2 | 3 | 4 | ED by @boohoo-clo

Thank You by @m7nson

Out Of The Dark by @creme-bruhlee

My Darling by @helpwhatsthis

Childish by @badmirvcle​ 

Eye for An Eye by @rocknrollbabe14​

Ralph (TimeWasters)

At Last | 2 | 3 | 4 | ED by @luv4fandoms

It's My Party And I'll Cry If I Want To by @brighteyedbushybrowed

Please & Darling by @no-mercy-bby

Wizard by @creme-bruhlee

To Be Loved by @stevies-corner

A Special Present For A Special Boy by @littlelioncub43

Who's A Good Boy? | 2 @mypoisonedvine​

Baby Boy by @historygeekfics

Show Me

Untitled by @thefreak-thebanished

A Life Well Loved by @eddiemunsonthebanished 

Words Of Advice | 2 by @ladyfogg

My Sweet Boy by @forays-into-fiction​ 

A Rivalry For The Ages by @ladybug0095​ 

The Dance by @stinkysam​ 

Tell the World by @x-its-funnier-in-enochian-x​

Busy Streets And Busy Lives @thefreak-thebanished​

Kinktober: Day13 - Face Sitting by @xcatnapsx​

My Way Of Life by @ @sadboyeddie​

Tom Grant (Make Up)

You Got Me by @mypoisonedvine

WindSwept by @ladyfogg

Lemons Lollipops and Salt | 2(WIP) by @cherrielip

Adore You by @inklore

5 Minutes In Heaven

A Couple Hours by @luvsouya

Little Thief by @dingusfreakhxrrington

Thunder by @loves0phelia

Maybe It's A Good Thing? | 2 by @dingusfreakhxrrington

Prompts | 2 | 3 by @ladylannisterxo

Welcome Home by @mypoisonedvine

Untitled by @ginger-mews

New Girl | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 by @xcatnapsx

I'm Home by @bluesfortheredj

Cheer Up by @x-its-funnier-in-enochian-x

Untitled | Prompt by @joemazzmatazz

I'm Not Her by @munsonxmayhem

Smashed by @joekeeryswife​ 

Rebound | 2 | 3 by @munsonxmayhem​ 

Another Sad Love Song by @rocknrollbabe14​  

Kisses from Cupid by @hawkinsbanishedhero​

His Past And His Future by @munsonxmayhem​ 

New Angel by @fxckadoodledoomunson​ 

Mr. And Mrs. Grant by @munsonxmayhem​

Tom Grant Series by @wheels-of-despair​ ​

Leonard Bast (Howards End)

A Friend Of A Friend by @the-suburban-blues

All I'd Ever Need @the-suburban-blues

As Stubborn As A Mule by @writing-fanics

Arthur Havisham (Dickensian)

The Arrangement | 2 | 3 (x M!Reader) by @ladyfogg

One Of Those Nights (x M!Reader) by @alex-drinks-blood

Untitled (xPlatonicF!Reader) by @dingusfreakhxrrington

Letters (x M!Reader) by @axailslink

Million Dollar Man (x F!Reader) by @lvlycheri

Not All Who Wander Are Lost (x M!Reader) by @lvlycheri

It's Okay (xPlatonicF!Reader) by @x-its-funnier-in-enochian-x

Please Don't Go (x M!Reader)

Untitled (x M!Reader) by @alex-drinks-blood​ 

Maybe Someday (x M!Reader) by @casettewrecked​ 

Untitled (x M!Reader) by @razzledazzlestuff​ 

Can The Past Save The Future (x M!Reader) by @stardancerluv​

Koner (Game of Thrones)

Only You | 2 | 3 by @creme-bruhlee

Night Watch by @historygeekfics

A Not-So-Knight and His Spellcaster | 2(WIP) by @brighteyedbushybrowed

Winter Nights | 2 by @ercklln

A Winter's Tale by @lyricswrittenbythesecretdreamer 

Dark Koner (Untitled) by @mypoisonedvine​

Note: I hope a lot more writers will write stories for these characters and I'm sure we're all excited to read more stories about it.

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn's other characters #timewasters #howards end #catherine the great #catherine the great 2019 #make up #prince paul x reader #ralph timewasters x reader #ralph penbury x reader #tom grant x reader #tom make up x reader #leonard bast x reader #prince paul #tom grant #tom (make up) x reader #leonard bast #ralph penbury #dickensian #arthur havisham #arthur havisham x male reader #arthur havisham x female reader #koner x reader #koner #got

[babybluebex]

𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 | 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | marrying the prince of russia would be dream if he wasn’t such a dick, but a late night conversation leads to a mutual understanding. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | prince paul (catherine the great, 2019) x fem!reader 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 | smut (minors dni— p in v sex, unprotected sex, choking, breeding kink) hatefucking, possessiveness, mentions of death, mentions of blood 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | i wrote most of this after i drank a coffee at midnight so if it’s nigh incoherent don’t worry about it 

From the first glance, you did not like Prince Paul of Russia. And, apparently, he didn’t like you. 

The first glimpse you got of him was at court, as you were being introduced. Your sole purpose in Russia was to be the prince’s wife and, while you resented your reasons for being in Russia, you had been treated well. Bathed and clothed in fine silk, there were worse fates for a girl. But there was something about the look of him that was offsetting to you. 

For one, the powdered wig was a bit much. Along with the smeared triangle of rouge on his cheeks and the dab of it in the middle of his lips, it was a sight you weren’t familiar with. Your family was well-off, but not nearly important enough for your brothers or father to dress that way. It was just… Wrong. It wasn’t what you knew. 

The way he stood and presented himself was another awful thing you spotted about him. He looked annoyed,  almost as if he didn’t want to be there and had other things that he could have been doing. One of his hands was situated in the pocket of his ornate green jacket, the blue sash stretched across his chest, and the other hand  hung at his side, tapping his fingers impatiently. You spotted the decorative sword that hung on his hip, and you held in laughter. He was the prince; of course he would have his weapon, even if it likely was fake. 

Altogether, there was something off-putting about Prince Paul, and you didn’t like it. 

You had to like him, though, or at least pretend to. He was the only reason you were brought from Germany— he was your husband. You had been married with the hope of giving him a child, and, even though the carriage ride from your home to Moscow had been long and tedious, you had hoped that at least Paul would be kind and that would make up for everything else. 

There weren’t many accounts of the Russian prince, even fewer that painted him in a good light, but you had decided that you were going to make the decision for yourself whether Paul was a good man or not. And, so far, the way he was looking at you, with disdain and almost hatred in his owlish brown eyes, was not indicative of someone who would enjoy your company. 

You didn’t get to have a proper conversation with him until after dinner. Even though you sat next to him and tried to engage him, he would never answer you, only curling up his lip and ignoring you. You knew better than to confront him in front of everyone, so you had to wait until after dinner, when you were alone with him. 

Thankfully, your apartments in the palace were directly next to each other, and you opened the shared doors to see Paul. He was sitting at his desk, already dressed for bed, only the hints of rouge left on his lips as he read something by the light of the candles. 

“Can I speak to you?” you started, and Paul turned to you, like he hadn’t heard you open the heavy wooden doors. He certainly knew you were there the whole time and only brought his attention to you when you demanded it; like an asshole. 

“About what?” Paul asked. “There is nothing to discuss.”

“I think there is something,” you told him. “Are we not to discuss the marriage? Our expectations, our needs…?”

“Must we?” Paul said, and you frowned. “Fine. I only ask that you never make that face again.” He turned fully to you then, setting down his paper, and he gestured to you. “Out with it, then.” 

You tilted your head as you watched him, and you crossed your arms over your chest. “You could lose your foul attitude,” you started. “You act like you do not want to be married.”

“I don’t, but go on,” Paul interjected, and you huffed. 

“Why not?” you asked. “Why don’t you wish to be married?” 

“I’d rather not discuss it with you,” Paul said, and you rolled your eyes. 

“We’ll never thrive if we keep on like this,” you told him, and Paul knitted his eyebrows in annoyance. “Not that our marriage has to be strictly successful, but I would prefer it if my husband didn’t despise even the sight of me.” 

“You shouldn’t have accepted my proposal, then,” Paul told you flippantly, and anger suddenly burned in your chest. 

“You act as if I had a choice,” you sneered. “I was not asked if I wanted to be married, I was suddenly told a week ago that I was already married to you.”

“As is your role,” Paul insisted. He stood from his chair in all of his self-righteous glory, and he strode across the room to you until he was right on top of you. You took a step back, but he only followed you. 

Something about being in his space was almost intoxicating, and you felt dizzy with his presence. Maybe it was the anger radiating hot off of his chest, or maybe it was his own princely aura, but something affected you greatly the closer that Paul got.

 “Your role requires you to marry and bear children, preferably boys, and you’ve already succeeded at one of those things,” Paul spat at you. “You don’t get a choice in this.” 

You sighed heavily, and shame radiated in your stomach when you realized that you had been staring at Paul’s mouth and his rouge-stained lips. “You still have lipstick on your mouth,” you told him; maybe if you played it as smug, he wouldn’t notice the way you trembled under his gaze.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” Paul asked. “You don’t get a choice, neither do I, and neither does any of the other fucking people in this palace.” 

That stopped you dead in your smug tracks, and your face softened. “You didn’t have a choice?” you asked. “Is that why you resent me so?” 

“Yes,” Paul started, but then squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t resent you, exactly, but I resent what you stand for. My first marriage...” Paul finally sighed, and he slunked over to his desk once more. “I’d rather not speak of it now, actually.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “I wasn’t told of your first marriage.”

“And I didn’t think that you had been,” Paul replied. “But now you know. So, no, I do not want to be married, I do not like you— if you returned to Germany tomorrow, that would please me— and I did not have a choice in this matter at all. The only choice I got was who I married, and even that was decided definitely by my mother.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. 

“I mean, I was shown your portrait,” Paul sighed, turning to you once more. “I thought you looked lovely, so I said you, but my mother had the final say. If she had said no, then I would have had to pick a different girl.” 

“It was decided for you,” you said slowly, and Paul nodded. “Neither of us quite know what autonomy is, do we?”

Finally, a smile cracked across Paul’s face, and he chuckled bitterly. “No, I suppose we don’t,” he said. “Now, leave me, I have things I need to do.” 

“Like what?” you asked curiously, and Paul sighed heavily. It seemed your moment of levity was over, and that tepid, boiling anger returned. 

“Nothing that concerns you,” Paul told you, shuffling his papers around. From your vantage point, you could spot another’s handwriting on the paper, much more feminine than anything that you were sure Paul was capable of, and your breath caught in your throat. 

“What are those?” you asked. 

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Paul replied, and he shuffled them around once more to hide them from your view. 

“Paul, please,” you said. You moved closer to him, further into the room, and you watched Paul gather up the papers and shove them into a drawer of the desk. “Are they business?”

“I said not to worry about it,” Paul said, and you could tell that he was seething. His chest rose and fell rapidly with angry breaths, and his cheeks were red; this time, though, it wasn’t the rouge. 

“Paul—”

“You don’t know when to stop, do you?” Paul asked, his bitter laughter returning. “You don’t need to know, so you won’t. Leave my apartments, go to your own, and forget you ever saw them, do I make myself clear?” 

“You can’t command me,” you said. Your own anger was starting to boil over, but there was an odd extra feeling, the heat from your angry belly slothing down between your legs. You couldn’t possibly find Paul’s anger arousing. He was your enemy, your sworn husband and biggest foe, he was not arousing. And yet, the way his eyes were dark, a different sort of darkness than before, made the feeling pool in your cunt.

“Would you like to bet?” Paul spat. He was right up on you again, his anger radiating in waves off of him, and the ugly feeling in your chest only got worse. “You infuriate me, woman, how are we to be married for even long enough for you to give me a son?” 

“Fuck me,” you told him. “Go ahead, do it, get it over with. I know that’s the real reason you chose me; you saw my portrait and thought I would look nice on my back. Isn’t that right?”

“Don’t you dare presume why I chose you,” Paul said. “I told you, I thought you were beautiful; who knew you had a serpent’s tongue?”

“Beautiful?” you echoed. “Or fuckable?”

Within an instant, Paul was on you. For a moment, you expected him to hurt you, for his anger to have come to a high point and for his emotions to make him do something to harm you, but that wasn’t the case. Paul pounced on you, his hands grabbing your face, but he kissed you. He didn't even kiss you at the wedding  ceremony. His mouth was searing hot, his kiss heavy and hungry, and you couldn’t help but kiss him back. You fisted at his shirt and drew him close, and you groaned as he opened his mouth against yours, his tongue snaking past your lips. 

You had been kissed before, but never like this. Paul’s hands fell from your face and touched every bit of your body that he could find, your hips and shoulders and neck, and his hand finally found purchase around your throat. You gasped, his fingers digging into the flesh on the sides of your throat, and your heartbeat became loud in your ears. He wasn’t choking you; no, he was cutting off blood supply. As suspect as the action was, it made that hotness pool even heavier between your legs, and you felt dampness touch you. 

“I’ll make this quick,” Paul told you, his lips lingering mere centimeters from yours. 

“Make what quick?” you asked breathlessly, and Paul used his free hand to grab at your nightgown, all bare underneath. Quickly, your brain caught up with him, and you gasped. “Oh!”

“You’re so worried about being fuckable,” Paul said, and he pushed you to his bed. It was soft under your touch as he shoved you down onto your back, and you gasped as his kisses attacked your neck. “I’ll put that worry out of your mind, darling.” The nickname sounded venomous coming from Paul’s flushed mouth, but you dragged him but his curls back down into a searing kiss. 

His hand fell from your throat in favor of tugging your nightgown up and off, and he chuckled lowly at the sight of your bare body. “What a thing to see,” he said, and his hand fell down to your waist and lower, and you writhed as his fingers swiped at your leaking slit. “Oh, and already so wet. You love fighting with me, don’t you? Do you find it a pleasure when we fight?”

“Paul,” you whimpered, and your back arched as he sank a finger into your wet heat. You had never had somebody inside you and the feeling was beautiful, exactly what you needed, and you felt your anger melt away as he worked his finger inside you. 

“Be a good wife,” Paul said, his hand skating up our thigh to open your legs wider. You felt small under his hungry and lustful  gaze, but something about it was reassuring. He would take care of you, you were sure of it. “Take me inside you. Just like this, darling, yes.”

You grabbed at the silken sheets and furs on the bed to try to ground yourself, keep yourself from floating into the stars with the glorious feeling he was giving you, and your mouth fell open when you felt his second finger prod at you. He pressed his second finger in without much resistance, and you whimpered at the foreign stretch. As odd as it felt though, it made the fire burn hot in your belly, and your thighs quivered. 

“Jesus,” Paul laughed. His wide eyes were exploring your bare body, and he quickly leaned down to you and pressed a kiss to your chest. “I was told you were a virgin, but you react so beautifully, I can’t help but know it’s true. What would you do if I did… This?” He cocked his fingers inside you, pressing up towards your belly, and you cried out as a bolt of lightning stuck your belly and cunt. 

“Fuck!” you cried, and Paul smiled wickedly down at you. “Paul, oh my God—”

“I know, pet, I know,” Paul whispered, shushing you and your whining. “It feels so good, doesn’t it?”

“More,” you choked out, and Paul, again without warning, withdrew his fingers from you. You felt almost sick at the emptiness that invaded your body, but, before you could even complain, Paul was undoing the buttons on his pants. 

“I’ll give you more,” Paul told you. “Don’t worry, darling, more is coming.”

Your skin thrummed with excitement and arousal, and you slid yourself further up the bed carefully. Paul smiled at you, his eyes wide and blown-out, and he climbed up onto the bed to chase after you. His pants halfway unbuttoned, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the bed, and you giggled at his playfulness. 

“Open your legs,” Paul told you. One of his hands stayed on your wrist, but the other went down to his pants, finishing up with the buttons. You did as he instructed, parting your legs open wide for him, and he sighed at the sight of your weeping cunt. “So wet. My little wife is so wet for me, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” you gasped. If it were anybody else, you would hate being spoken to that way, but something about Paul in that moment permitted him to speak to you in any way he pleased. “Oh, Paul, please—”

Paul shushed you gently, and he abandoned his pants, now fully open and allowing you a peak of the coarse hair inside, in order to grab your thighs. He pulled your legs up, pressing your knees close to your ears, and his arms settled in the crook of your legs, holding you there and open for him. “Good girl,” he whispered, and you winced at the pull on your tendons and muscles. 

All pain was forgotten, though, when Paul pulled out his cock. You had never seen a man’s cock before, and your husband’s was beautiful, thick and cut, flushed dark red with arousal. He didn’t say anything as he touched the burning head of his cock to your open hole, and his eyes connected with yours for a moment.”It might hurt,” he whispered. 

“I can take it,” you told him. 

Paul nodded, and your chest flushed warm at his words. He was concerned about you. As angry as he had started, he had softened his demeanor for you. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he told you, and he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your mouth. It wasn’t like the angry kisses from earlier, it was softer, no tongue and no hot breath. Maybe he did care after all. 

Finally, Paul pushed himself into you, sliding in easily with your slick arousal, and the stretch and burn made you whimper in pain. Paul shushed you, putting another soft kiss on your lips, and he whispered, “Give it a moment, it’ll feel better soon.” 

“Paul,” you whined, and your hands went up to grasp his short curls. Your breaths came rapidly as he sank further into you, and you moaned softly at the exquisite feeling of him so deep inside you. It was something truly beautiful, and you pulled at his hair.

That didn’t seem to deter him at all, in fact, it seemed to spur him on. “Good, good,” he whispered. “Taking me so well… I was right, darling; you do look beautiful on your back.” 

“You—” you started, mildly annoyed that he was now confirming a theory that angered you so, but his but his hands grasped at your hips and he slowly began to properly fuck you. His thrusts were shallow at first, getting you used to the feeling, and every press inside you made you moan. “Paul, fuck.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” Paul hissed. “God, you feel like heaven.”

“Fuck me,” you whispered, pulling him into a frenzied kiss. “Please, husband, please—”

“I am, pet,” Paul told you, and he snapped his hips quickly into you, filling you with him in a single moment. You threw your head back, moaning, and Paul’s tongue came out to touch his teeth. “You wanted it, you’ll get it.” 

He quickly gained a rhythm, fucking you hard enough for whole body to shift with each thrust. His hands came to rest by your head, gripping the fur blanket, and he bared his teeth as he fucked you fast. 

You could feel every inch of him inside you, burying deep in your body, and you whimpered and cried as his pace became relentless. He was chasing his own orgasm, you knew it, and you wondered if he would even care for you. That didn’t seem likely, but you were too distracted to properly ask him. 

However, it seemed as if he could read your mind, because his hand came from your hip and settled above your cunt, and his thumb expertly touched a nerve on you. The feeling of it made your back arch as much as possible in your position, and you cried out his name. “Paul!” you mewled, and he grinned wickedly. “Oh my God, what—”

“You really know nothing about sex, do you?” Paul asked. “Oh, my sweet little whore, your head is so empty. So’s your cunt, but I can fix that.”

His finger played with your sensitive nerve as he fucked you, drawing you closer and closer still to your release. You knew little about sex, he was right, but you knew enough to be sure that he was going to make you cum quickly. “Paul,” you whimpered out, and you grabbed at the bedsheets as his thrusts became quicker than before, hitting home inside you and making lightning strike your whole body. “I’m close,” you told him, and the prince nodded. 

“I can feel it,” Paul told you, and your face burned. “Your cunt is getting tighter than before… Didn’t know that was possible.” He huffed out his breaths, his cheeks red with exertion, but his eyes were blown wide, and he looked truly beautiful. 

“You look good like this,” you told him, your hands lifting to tangle in his hair. “M-Maybe I look good on my back, and you look good above me.” 

“Aren’t we a pair?” Paul chuckled. “Fuck, are you going to let me breed you? You’re going to give me my son?” You nodded, and Paul gave you that same wicked smile from before. “Good,” he whispered. “You’re mine.”He shoved himself deep inside you, so deep that you could feel it in your throat, and you moaned at him. You couldn’t tell whether you were moaning in pain or pleasure, but it all felt the same. “Right, darling? You’re mine, nobody else’s.”

“I’m yours,” you assured him, and Paul made a noise, almost like a growl of sorts, right into your neck. 

“Fuck,” Paul whispered. He rutted deep into you, drawing those pained moans from you once more, and his hands came up to grab your ankles. Your legs were still wide open to fit him, and he held onto your ankles as he fucked you, long and hard. “You’re mine, you’re mine… Nobody else’s, just mine… All mine…” 

Before you knew it, the lightning bolts in your belly became too much, and you grabbed at Paul’s messy hair as you bit your lip hard, hard enough to taste blood. “P-Paul…” you managed to mumble, and one more fuck into you had you unraveling. Your heartbeat was wild in your chest as heat flooded your whole body, starting in your curled toes until it reached your head. Your moans turned into sobs as he continued to fuck you through your release, the new wetness adding lewd volume to his fucks. 

“Good girl,” Paul whispered once your cries died down, and your hips lifted and shook as he fucked you harder still. “You’re going to take my cum, you’ll give me a son… Fuck…” He seemed like he was talking more to himself than to you, reassuring himself that you would do all of those things, just as you promised, and you tugged him by his hair down to you. You kissed him softly, both of your mouths slick with spit, but you didn’t accept his tongue when he tried. 

“I’ll give you everything you want,” you whispered. “Everything. I promise.”

Paul’s moan was wrecked and broken as he came, fucking his release deep inside you, and you held him tight as his fucking slowed down to a stop. He was panting, as were you, and you giggled just a bit as you wiped at sweat that hung on his forehead. He carefully pulled himself from you, hissing a bit with the assured oversensitivity of his cock, and he rolled off of you to lay on his back on the bed. Your hands shook as you helped undress him, and he smiled softly at you, exhausted, as his own hands aided you in your efforts.

Paul’s chest was slick with sweat as you settled your head over his heart, and you listened to his steady heartbeat. He sighed heavily, but you knew that it wasn’t a sigh of exhaustion. He had something he needed to say. 

“I apologize for getting angry with you before,” Paul said softly, his finger lightly grazing over your bare back. “I only… My first marriage is not an easy topic for me.” 

“Tell me,” you whispered. “What happened to make you so bitter, my love?” 

“My first wife,” he began softly. “She was… Everything. She was beautiful, she was kind… You remind me of her. But she was always very close with my close friend, Andrei. I never thought anything of it, but apparently everybody else did, because they all saw something I didn’t. Natalia became pregnant, and I was… Happy. So happy. I was so ready to be a father, but it…” He paused, his back teeth clenching with restraint. “It wasn’t meant to be. He was born, but Natalia did not survive the encounter, and neither did… Neither did my son. And, as I am mourning, not two weeks, my mother tells me to read Natalia’s letters, and that I would find evidence of her having an affair with Andrei. My mother even said that my child was Andrei’s. But I know he was mine. I feel it in my chest that the boy was mine.” 

Your heart sank into your stomach as you listened, and you pressed a gentle kiss to Paul’s chest, just over his racing heart. Suddenly, everything made sense. The anger, the possessiveness; he was hurt.  “And those documents you were reading,” you began softly. “At your desk…” 

Paul shook his head. “Natalia’s letters, proving my mother right,” he said. “I wish that I were kinder to you earlier. But I was angry from reading, and you were defying me, and I… I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”

“I understand,” you told him. “It’s alright—”

“No, it isn’t,” Paul said. “The way I spoke to you, no man should speak to his wife that way. I apologize for it. I will do better. I have to.” 

“You will,” you reassured him. “You will do much better, and our son will be born with you at my side.”

Paul nodded, and he buried a kiss in your sweaty and messy hair. “Stay with me tonight?” he whispered. 

“I would love nothing more.” 

#prince paul #prince paul x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #catherine the great #also yes the title is from great comet what about it #listening to obscene levels of this musical as i write #*my writing

[punk-in-docs]

-EDDIE MASTERLIST-

🕷Super Freak Series🕷

🕸 Your Web, I’m Caught (the 1st) 🕸

Summary: The one where you’re miserable and drinking on your own at a party. And you run into maybe the last person you’d have expected on the outskirts. 7.6k words.

🕸 Is It My Body (the 2nd) 🕸

Summary: The one where Eddie gives you a ride home after your friend ditched you at a terrible party. 6.9k words.

🕸 Power of Suggestion (the 3rd) 🕸

Summary: You see Eddie at school after he gave you a lift home the other night. There’s definitely something you need to resolve. It’s mind over matter and there’s something you’re both after. 5.3k words.

🕸 Head Over Heels (the 4th) 🕸

Summary: Eddie visits you at the record store where you work. You end up making out in the storage room. 7.6k words.

🕸 Was it Love or Nicotine? (The 5th) 🕸

Summary: Eddie can’t seem to see you at school. He thinks you’re avoiding him til he finds out you’re sick. And he climbs in your window one night to bring you a can of soup. 12k words.

🕸Wolf Men & Secret Heists (the 6th)🕸

Summary: You and Eddie enjoy a rendezvous in a storage closet at school. Some inevitably dirty stuff happens. 9.2k words (smut)

🕸 Don’t need telling twice (the 7th)🕸

Summary: You go over to Eddie’s for a Movie Night date. And apparently, you’re both terrible at keeping quiet about what you want. 10.4k words. (No smut just sheer fluff)

🕸️ Vanilla Tobacco (the 8th) 🕸️

Summary: Eddie collects you for your ice cream/arcade date, he also gets to meet your mom. 10.9k words

🕸️Star Studded Gazes & Metal Men (the 9th) 🕸️

Summary: Your date goes very well- maybe a little to well under the stars at skull rock. 10.5k words (smut!)

🕸️ Girlfriend is Better (The 10th) 🕸️

Summary: You and Eddie face an unseen obstacle, which you manage to overcome with some hard cold vengeance. and then you hit him with an interesting offer... 10.k words (angst/tw violcence past assault)

🕸️ Can’t leave you in the wrong hands, baby (The 11th) 🕸️ OUT NOW!!!!

Summary: You and Eddie take the definitive step towards boyfriend and girlfriend. An empty house and a evening alone yields to a perfect evening of a first time, and much much more (11.2k words, so much SMUTTT)

-Drabbles/One Shots-

🕷Green is the Colour 🕷 - Eddie x Pencils Drabble - 6.6k words

Summary: Eddie being jealous that everyone in Hawkins is apparently getting a slice of Pencils after they start dating. (Jealous!Eddie themes) ends with fluff.

🚬 Messy Eddie Headcanons🚬

🎼🎙 Eddie working in the record store with Sal Headcanons = a.k.a sheer Chaos 🎙🎼

🔥NSFW Eddie Headcanons🔥

🎃 Trick? Or Treat? 🎃

Summary: Eddie’s friends are having trouble believing you’re really dating. They require a little proof- 3k. Funky little drabble really.

🍁 Love is kinda crazy with a spooky little boy like you 🍁

Summary: you celebrate your two year anniversary with Eddie at the place where it all began- At the Hawkins Fall carnival.

🍂 Halloween Headcanon’s for Eddie 🍂

Summary: Pretty much what it says on the tin. Halloween Headcanons with Eddie.

❤️ My Funny Valentine ❤️

Summary: A requested ask/drabble- Valentines Day- and suddenly you have a not so secret admirer.

❤️‍🔥 Drawing Mr. Munson ❤️‍🔥

Short drabble: what would drawing Eddie be like? In a nutshell, a challenge.

🩸VAMPIRE!EDDIE🩸One shot; 10k words- also on AO3 if you fancy-

🩸Love like Blood🩸

Summary; !! Dark fic !! Vamp!Eddie x Reader. 10k words. He fully believes hell has opened its snake jaw and devoured him whole- cause this is, just, unbelievable.

Okay, maybe he hasn’t been swallowed into hell.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s that hell has chewed him up, and spat him back out.

He tried to stand and is amazed when he can. Bearing his own weight again. Stood tall. Slowly creaking and cracking to life.

Life? Or Death?

Other Characters

Detective (Murderer) Quinn

- Tainted Love, Part I

Summary: Inspired entirely by this post which I glimpsed via @ravensfromvalhalla from @ceriseheaven. As in the gif, what if Detective Quinn was actually a crazy psycho killer. Set in the 1980’s LA. Det Quinn x Reader.

‼️You don’t know I’m no good ‼️ Part II

Summary: Danger is far closer than you realise ‼️ TW: dark vibes, murder, death, violence, stalking ‼️ 3.6k words.

‼️Hungry like the wolf‼️ Part III

Summary: Quinn gets up close and personal. But he has an ulterior motive of course. ‼️TW dark vibes, knife violence and threatening ‼️ 4.1k words.

‼️ Like a fist. Like a Knife ‼️ Part IIII

Summary: Birdie is on the case - Quinn is onto her. The plot thickens- Slutty chaos ensues.

‼️ Hit me like a bad trip‼️ Part V

Summary: Some questions lead Birdie to the wrong side of town, good thing she’s got someone watching her back. Whether she wants them or not- turns out to be a good thing. Knights in shiny red Porsches. 7.2k words.

‼️ Girl in trouble (is a temporary thing) ‼️ Part VI

Summary: Birdie patches a bloodied Quinn up at her place. There’s nakedness, too much Bourbon, and a whole lot of smut involved. 9.9k words.

‼️ Have a horny little XXXmas - Det Quinn x Birdie festive one shot ‼️

‼️ NSFW ALPHABET ‼️ - For Detective Quinn - so much smut and filth

‼️ Hold the Bourbon‼️ Detective Quinn x Reader, Drabble.

Summary: Drabble from an ask, Detective Quinn laughing during sex - with an edge. ‼️TW ‼️Pure filth. Much smut.

‼️ Det Quinn Ask Drabble ‼️

Drabble/ask about Detective Quinn making you squirt

‼️Det Quinn Ask Drabble‼️ (so filthy)

Detective Quinn and how he would utterly devour you at all times (TW very filthy ask I LOVE IT)

‼️ Tied Up Too Tight ‼️

Detective Quinn x Birdies first date? Sort of. Quick hint: Porsche hood, nasty sex and handcuffs. ‼️TW ‼️lots of filth oh lord. Seriously.

🔪❤️‍🩹 better watch out babes-

🥀 Pick Your Poison 🥀Prince Paul x Reader || Part I, 9.2k words

Summary: You have Mother Russia melted deep into the marrow of your bones, and you’re not afraid to grit your teeth and have a scrappy fight. Draw out a little of that pumping hot slavic blood you’re so proud of.

“Charmed.” You smile at him with your perfectly rouged lips. You sneer him like a viper. Like you’re another one of the delicious black widows formed from these courtly, poison-skated walls.

He stalks off and Minister Panin bows to you all. Scurries along after him like a puppy.

Catherine isn’t displeased or discouraged by her sons frosty behaviour. She was expecting it.

You watch him stride away. Sip your champagne and drag your eyes over his back. He must store such tension in those reedy shoulders. Keeps it stored under that ridiculous wig maybe.

All of Russia is owed to him by birth and he’s kept a hairs breadth from clutching it.

🥀 Keep watch over the door of my lips 🥀 Prince Paul x Reader, Drabble.

Summary: Newlyweds, noble jealousy, and vicious court gossip. They seldom mix. 1.7k words. (Only a dash of smut)

🥀 Necessary Evils 🥀 Prince Paul x Reader, Drabble.

Summary: Short drabble: Prince Paul + Tsarevna + Pregnancy sex = F I L T H

🥀 The Matter of a Good Taste 🥀

Summary: Short drabble: Prince Paul + Tsarevna + some let me make you feel better oral sex. (Filthy but sweet married filth)

🥀 And the stars sighed in unison 🥀

Summary: Short drabble: Prince Paul + Tsarevna + some pre-wedding sex and general naughtiness. (Fiancé filth)

🥀 Blessed be the bitter fruit 🥀 Prince Paul x Reader || Part II, 7.8k Words

Summary: Your marriage to Prince Paul and all the intimacy that follows, being love drunk newlyweds. (So much porn ok)

🥀Qualities of Mercy🥀

Summary: Prince Paul x Tsarevna Drabble inspired by the prompt: “If you want to come, you better beg.”

🥀 Traps with Baited Jaws 🥀 Prince Paul x Reader || Part III, 14.8k words,

Summary: There’s a snake in the palace garden. Blood spattered on Catherine’s pet rosebushes. Reader learns that Ruling all of Russia comes at a gutting price- (TW so much subby!Paul smut, violence, mentions of gore/death)

🍾 Ralph x Reader 🍾 short drabble/anon ask

Set in the 1920’s. Meeting Ralph at a wild party

#punkwrites #eddie munson #eddie my boy #EDDIE DESERVED BETTER #EDDIE MY BELOVED #PUNKS MASTERLIST FOR EDDIE #punkindocs MASTERLIST Eddie #eddie munson headcanons #eddie x female reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #i would die for this man #vampire eddie munson #angst #eddie munson fluff #smut #prince paul imagine #prince paul fanfic #prince paul smut #catherine the great 2019 #ralph time wasters x you #ralph #timewasters #ralph timewasters #vampire eddie smut #vampire blood drinking #stranger things #eddie munson x reader

[rocknrollbabe14]

Eye For An Eye (Prince Paul x Reader)

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

Warnings: Paul’s temper tantrums (throwing things but not at characters), cursing, mentions of adultery, reader and Paul began affair when reader was seventeen and he was eighteen (in this story it is mutual consent and unfortunately things like this happened in this time period), Venus’s honeypot = real euphemism for the female anatomy back then lol (thought it would be fun to add), unprotected sex, slight degrading kink. If you feel I left anything out, let me know. 

I plan for this to be a few parts. I'll post as I'm able.

It was another cold winter’s morning in Russia, however, it was just another day for you. Every day you performed the same tasks for the same women. It was never a change of pace. Part of you liked the familiarity, one who didn’t like change. However, sometimes you wished something else would happen to add some excitement for the day. You slicked down your dress, preparing to go help the wife of Prince Paul get ready for the day, a lady in waiting is was your title. It made you sound like a little slut. 

You were transitioning into your new role in the royal family. Catherine liked your mom so much that she decided she would let you be Prince Paul’s wife’s lady in waiting. It was a noble position compared to the chambermaid. It would begin full-time after Christmas. 

“Get going, ladies. We don’t have all day.”

As if you needed reminding. You began walking quickly down the corridor to her majesty’s chambers. Hers were separate from Prince Paul’s. You had very minimal dealings with him since he married—he was an absolute man child. He envied his mother, craving the throne. You heard whispers and talk about what was going on behind closed doors—conspiracies. You knocked gently at the door before entering. 

“Come in.”, his wife, Wilhelmina called out. 

You entered, curtsying to her before beginning to help her get ready for the day. 

“Purple or blue.”, she pondered, eyeing her closet.

It didn’t matter to you, frankly, you didn’t give a damn but you had to pretend you cared.

“Blue will look ravishing on you, your highness.”, you smiled as you began tightening her corset, causing her to gasp. 

“Blue it is, then.”, she smiled up at you.

She wasn’t as rude and condescending as Paul’s mother, Catherine. Nor as demanding as Paul or Catherine. You had learned about this family very well. Catherine was power hungry, that much was clear. It was rumored she had a coup to have her husband killed to seize the throne. You could neither confirm nor deny this conspiracy theory and you wouldn’t comment on the matter to your co-workers or other palace personnel, scared to lose your job. 

“I’m sure Prince Paul will love it.”, you commented, trying not to think about him. 

“Pshht we’ll see. He’s hard to please.”, she sighed sarcastically.

You didn’t comment back on the matter as you continued to tie and tighten her corset, something you had done time and time again. It was second nature to you. You had helped his mother, Catherine, for years and she broke you in well, critiquing you the entire time you dressed her. Every morning since you were sixteen. However, near the end, she rather preferred you. Your family was far from royalty, your mother worked for the royal family for years when you were a little girl as a chambermaid. You and Paul were very close in age. 

You worked in silence with the maids when Wilhelmina’s friends came in, her ignoring you and the rest of the maids as you all worked which you were fine with. 

“So, seen Razumovsky today?”, she smirked at Paul’s wife.

None of the other maids appeared to be paying attention to their conversation. You weren’t intentionally trying to listen, but your ears were picking up things. 

“No, not today.”, his wife giggled in response.

You tried not to cock an eyebrow or let them know you heard anything. It wasn’t your place or your business to understand. Count Razumovsky was one of Paul’s closest friends. Why was her friend asking if she had seen him today? It was early morning and she should have been asleep all night long. 

“You’ll have to read the latest one.”, Wilhelmina smirked as she patted her drawer.

The one she always kept locked under key. 

“Tonight after the party.”, her friend smiled.

Wilhelmina agreed. 

She eyed herself in the mirror, twirling in her blue dress, admiring and doting on herself. All palace personnel did not attend parties. She had rouge on her cheeks, hair perfectly curled and up. Yours was back in a bun, trying to prevent pieces from falling down. You barely could keep eyes on her. You’d felt this way ever since she and Paul had married just months before. 

“Oh Y/N, you’re dismissed.”, she eyed you.

You nodded easily before opening her door and slipping out, closing it quickly behind you. You tried to catch your breath, trying to come to terms with the information you were given. The sun shined through the big windows down the corridor, momentarily distracting you. The sky was a pale blue, snow falling lightly. You were quickly taken aback when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N.”

You shot up to find a familiar but unforgiving face staring you down. Paul. He had that obnoxious wig on along with a red and blue outfit, you were sure to compliment Wilhelmina’s dress. His brown eyes stared into yours, the slight rouge on his cheeks bringing out his eyes. 

“Yes, your highness?”

He rolled his eyes incredulously. “Do you know what’s keeping my wife?”

Wife. That word stung you slightly. You did, but you couldn’t tell him so. She was too busy bragging about Razumovsky and the letter you assumed she had written him or received from him. All you could do was stare at him for a moment, his lips almost curving into a frown when you gave him no answer. The shouting and foot stomping was sure to follow.

“I’m not sure, your majesty.”, you shrugged lightly before looking back up at him. 

His eyes narrowed. “Is she dressed?”

“Yes, sir.”

He rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “So, what is it then?”

“Again, I’m not sure, sir. It’s not really my business to become involved in your personal matters.”

Paul scoffed quickly before laughing sarcastically. “You didn’t mind being involved in my personal matters before I married, Y/N.”

Your eyes closed, feeling a pang in your chest. You knew exactly what he was referring to and you had tried your best to forget it—calling it off as soon as his engagement dinner was thrown. It had caught you by surprise and he gave you no indication he was to be married. It was stupid that you had even got involved with him in the first place because you knew you would not be able to marry him or have it go any further. You were not someone who would be able to be involved with the future emperor of Russia. You both were young when you became involved with one another, seventeen and eighteen. Paul was older than you just by a few months if you remember what your mom said. He was now twenty-one and you were twenty. 

“Paul, please.”, you eyed up to him, pleading with your eyes.

He scoffed slightly. “I mean you didn’t mind being in my room every night—legs folded up and screaming my name as I fucked myself into you senselessly.”

You closed your eyes, his words visibly affecting you. 

He eyed you, not breaking his stare. His eyes were like daggers, stabbing into you. 

“Paul, that was then and this is now. You’re married now. And besides, your mother desperately is pushing you for an heir. I can’t stand in the way of that.”

He laughed again. “So what? I had no intention of breaking things off with you.”

Your heart felt a glimmer of hope, but your mind quickly shot it down. 

“I just can’t be the other woman. Your mother would be furious if she found out we were sleeping together. I’d lose my job, my mother would be ashamed.”

Paul rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Ashamed her daughter was beautiful enough to catch the eye of the Prince?”

You didn’t respond, rubbing your arms nervously.

“Besides, my mother has had countless affairs.”

All you could think about was the fallout that would ensue if anyone had found out about your and Paul’s affair. You knew when his marriage was announced it was best for you to break things off. You all had never truly resolved those feelings. You preferred to ignore him, however, he was making that hard to accomplish. 

“Can you not just sneak off later tonight after the party?”, he asked, visibly aggravated and clearly wanting to try and talk to you.

“I have to take care of your wife.”, you didn’t meet his glance.

“Are you denying the future emperor of Russia?”, he asked, tauntingly. 

Your eyes met his. “No.”

He was joking with you, trying to lighten the mood. 

“I’ll call for you.”, he offered as he grabbed your arm, meeting your glance. His touch was so foreign, unexpected. 

“Yes, sir.”

He smirked before letting your arm go just in time, his wife’s chamber doors opening, her eyeing both of you. 

“Y/N, I thought I dismissed you.”

“I asked her to fix my sash since you were nowhere to be found.”, Paul covered quickly, snapping at Wilhemina, causing her to leave you alone. 

With that, you walked quickly away from both of them. Your stomach was doing somersaults, that being the first real encounter you had with Paul since you broke off your affair. Sure, he would steal your glances at the time, causing your stomach to twist. His wife, Wilhelmina caught him, asking him what he was staring at. It had happened several times that you were aware of. 

“Tough morning?”, Maria asked, eyeing you.

You nodded. “I had the pleasure of dealing with Prince Paul briefly.”

Maria’s eyes widened, nodding. “I’d say so, then.”

Maria was around your age, two years younger than you. You yawned easily as you leaned up against the wall, making sure no one was around. You’d be reprimanded for acting lazy. 

“Didn’t sleep well?”

You shook your head. Most nights you didn’t sleep well. Your mind was too busy thinking about Paul and your little love affair with him. You were sure to him it didn’t mean anything. Just a way for him to get back at his mother. If anything, you were a conquest to him. Just because you were something he couldn’t have. It was foolish of you to think you somehow meant more to him. He was good—excellent with words. Very eloquent. It was shocking Paul didn’t find a wife on his own. You were enamored with him.

How could you be enamored with a man like Paul? He had a rough, outside shell but deep down inside, he was fragile. Paul could have been honest with you about his impending marriage. That’s what made you so frustrated and angry with him. You were hurt, wounded at the time. Part of you had realized you had no future with him. It was impossible. But part of you wanted, craved a future with him, and hoped by some miracle it would pan out. Why didn’t he tell you?

When Paul didn’t get his way, he became very furious and unable to soothe just like a child. You imagined that came from his childhood. He was eight years old when his father died. You remembered the news of Peter III’s death. Paul was too young to succeed this father at the time. So who did? His mother, Catherine, of course. She was too busy governing Russia to raise her son like a normal mother. They were not a normal family. 

“Well, we get through today and we will surely rest well tonight.”, Maria smiled, her optimism shining through. 

She was very optimistic—almost too much for her own good. You were once like that, however, you were foolish and naïve. After Paul married, your optimism went away for good. Your mother noticed the change in you, asking what was wrong but you denied her each time, never telling her you and Paul had anything going on. She would have been taken aback, telling you that you put your and her jobs in jeopardy.

You didn’t mind jumping in and helping as long as Wilhelmina didn’t need you directly for any personal matters. 

“Breakfast service is coming up.”, Maria sighed.

You nodded. “Let’s get to it, then.”

__________________________________________________________

Breakfast went on as usual. Catherine brags about her latest plans, them falling on practically deaf ears. Paul couldn’t have acted as if he cared less. Wilhelmina stirred in her food, seeming completely distracted. Maria eyed you easily. You eyed her back, waiting for something to do. You all could feel the tension in the air. Paul asked for a refill, shaking his glass at you.

If he was pretending to be a dick, he was doing a great job.

You grabbed the pitcher easily, giving Maria a last look before walking over to the table. You smiled easily as you tipped the pitcher over, filling his glass, careful not to make a mess. His brown eyes stared into yours, causing you to gulp easily. 

“Anything else I can do for you, your highness?”, you asked.

“No, thank you.”, he took a sip of his drink. 

His eyes once again were on you too long for his wife’s liking.

“Paul, why are you staring at her?”, you heard her ask him in a whisper.

His mother’s eyes widened at his wife’s words, her lips curving into a smile. One you had seen quite a few times before. She often liked seeing Paul’s life be full of hardship and frustration. 

“Staring at whom?”, he asked, his eyes moving back to her. 

You felt your cheeks become red and you walked back to Maria, sitting the pitcher down. You wanted to crawl in a hole and disappear but you couldn’t leave until you were dismissed. You would be reprimanded and considered rude if you did. You watched Wilhelmina and Paul’s expressions. She was furrowing her brow, whispering to him hatefully. He did the same back to her, throwing his hands in the air. 

Suddenly, he scooted his chair in.

“I refuse to be embarrassed by my own wife!”, he shouted, slinging his glass and breaking it against the wall behind him, eliciting a gasp from the table. 

“You’re all dismissed. Get out of here!”, he shouted, eyeing all of you. 

His face was blood red, the rouge disappearing. You had seen this look before. He had acted out the day after you broke off the affair. You knew why he was angry. He would give you looks that could kill, criticizing you on any task you did for him. His mom got onto him for being so rough on you, surprisingly. She asked him what problem he had with you. He just scoffed at her and stomped away after throwing a vase and breaking it, one of his many temper tantrums. 

She apologized to you on her son’s behalf, stating she had no idea why he was in such a terrible mood, considering she had found him a beautiful wife. You smiled weakly, hearing the words make you realize it was all that much more real. You accepted her apology before exiting the room, going to cry privately. 

You wasted no time gathering yourself and Maria and leaving the room, fleeing to the kitchen with her. 

“Does he do this often?”, she asked, visibly shaken by the events at breakfast. 

“Yes.”, you admitted as you put away the dishes, opening the cupboards and placing them in their correct place. 

You needed a distraction, anything to keep your mind occupied. Your hands were slightly shaking. 

You didn’t meet her glance. You continued to sort dishes, putting them away. 

“Why?”, she asked.

You looked back at her, stopping in your tracks. “No clue, daddy issues?”, you suggested with a small giggle. 

Maria giggled back, before coming closer to you.

“I saw him staring at you. You caused the fight between him and his wife at breakfast.”, she whispered.

You dropped a dish, breaking it. “Shit.”, you cursed. 

This completely caught you off guard. You always hoped no one else would notice or even suspect anything Eyes were on you as you grabbed a broom and dustpan, cleaning it up. Maria was still watching you with a smirk. 

“I don’t think so.”, you whispered back to her. 

Maria smirked. “Really?”

“Really.”, you eyed her seriously as you tossed the broken glass away. 

She smirked. “He doesn’t stare at any other woman like that. Not even his wife.”

You shushed her quietly as she continued to giggle. “Maria, don’t say that. It’s not true.”, you insisted.

You prayed you didn’t sound too eager to dismiss her assumption. You were afraid you’d give off an indication you knew it was true. You knew deep down inside her words were true, but it was surreal that someone else noticed it. Part of you had thought it was you being naïve and hopeful that he stared at you that much, that he missed what he once had. It was hard to ignore him, but you had to for the sake of your mental and emotional well-being.

However, tonight that would be all blown to smithereens. You just knew it would. 

“Look, Y/N, you can’t help he stares at you like that.”, she smirked as she passed through the double doors of the kitchen, glancing back at you.

You sighed at her words, dreading facing his wife once more before the party. 

______________________________________________________

When getting Wilhelmina dressed for the party, she barely spoke to you. You cleared your throat as you finished helping her get dressed, this time she was wearing a wine color. It was the big party right before Christmas. A huge social event for the royals. She dismissed you and you felt relieved as you left her chambers. It was time to help prepare for the party.

The sun went down quickly, and you and the rest of the staff lighting candles to illuminate the ballroom. It was a big ordeal and everything had to go perfectly or the Empress would be infuriated, taking it out on you all. You silently wondered where Paul got it from. The royals began to enter and the band was top volume. You saw Catherine enter with her new flavor of the month, General Potemkin. 

He had come back from the war after Catherine wrote him, pleading him to come back or so you’d heard through gossip. You weren’t sure but it sounded fairly accurate. Not far behind were Paul and Wilhelmina as well as Count Razumovsky. You saw her eyes on Razumovsky, sure he said something to stifle a laugh from her. Paul looked displeased with how much attention she was paying to him as they entered the party. 

Your heart skipped a beat as he entered the room, the staff bowing to him and his mother. You did the same, his glance meeting yours. He went and talked to others as you served wine and champagne to the guests. He kept glancing at you, making you feel nervous. After the party, you’d help his wife get ready for bed and then you’d be free—until you were called on. Most often, you were left alone through the night even though you weren’t able to sleep, your mind reeling. 

“Um some wine please for Count Razumovsky and I?”, his wife called as she shook her empty glass at you. 

Paul was busy speaking with his mother, presumably arguing with her.

You wasted no time in grabbing the bottle of wine and going over to her and Razumovsky. You smiled easily and began pouring the wine. His wife eyed you, studying you. You felt like a bug under a microscope, imagining every possible imperfection you could have had—your dress, your hair, minimal make-up. You were going to do your best to not let her see you struggling.

“Thank you. That’s all for now.”, she narrowed her eyes at you.

“Yes, your highness.”, you nodded.

You had time to really get a good look at Razumovsky and he was not at all attractive. No comparison to Paul in your opinion. You cleared your throat returning to your spot in the ballroom. Paul looked frustrated after finishing his conversation with his mother—one you sure he would recount for you later tonight. The thought gave you butterflies. It had been so long since you had spent time with Paul. 

The party seemed to go well. It was nearing the end of the evening and the Empress requested a boastful, loud Russian song to be played by the band. It started slow, a true Russian waltz. You eyed the Empress, beginning to dance with Potemkin, encouraging everyone else to join in. Maria came closer to you, feeling confident they weren’t much worried about wine or food now. Potemkin took Catherine by the hand, beginning to waltz with her. 

This seemed to displease most of the other men—jealousy you presumed. Your eyes immediately panned to Paul who offered for Wilhelmina’s hand to dance. Part of it infuriated you but you understood—appearances had to be kept. She took it and they began waltzing, the entire room doing it like clockwork. 

“Looks fun.”, Maria eyed them.

“Mhmm.”, you agreed. 

Paul eyed you each time you came into his view, you just offered him a small smile. In a few hours, you’d be in his room once again. Just like old times. You weren’t sure if you felt prepared, but you’d have to be.

______________________________________________________

The party had winded down, most everyone working together quickly to dissemble what you all had worked so hard to assemble in the first place. Your duty was to go back to Wilhelmina’s chambers and help her prepare for bed. You once again knocked on her door. 

“Come in.”, she called.

You opened her door, entering the room. You curtsied to her once more before coming behind her. 

“Nice party, wasn’t it?”, she asked you quietly.

You hadn’t expected her to talk to you. Especially after breakfast. 

“Yes, very lovely.”, you agreed, beginning to undo her dress. 

She sighed, something visibly on her mind. You weren’t going to poke or prod. Once again, it was none of your business when it came to their marriage or their extra-marital affairs—except if you became involved with Paul again. She didn’t say much more to you, just making small talk as you helped her prepare for bed. A knock came on her door. She invited the person in. 

It was her same friend from earlier. You were almost done. All you had to do was organize her dresses back before you left and you’d be free for the night. 

“I saw Count Razumovsky.”, her friend teased.

You pretended not to hear anything, continuing to organize her dresses and brush the fabric with your hands to make sure there were no rips or imperfections. 

“Indeed, something else, isn’t he?”, Wilhelmina laughed.

“Very nice. He compliments you much more than that husband of yours.”, her friend giggled. 

Your eyes widened as you organized her shoes back to how they were. 

“You think so?”, you heard the smile in her voice. 

Your assumption was proved almost at that moment. You finished organizing her dresses and shoes before turning around. 

“You’re dismissed for the night, Y/N. Thank you.”, his wife eyed almost as if she dared you to mention this to anyone.

You nodded and bowed. “Thank you, your highness.”

You quickly grabbed the door handle.

“Now, show me the latest letter.”, her friend giggled excitedly.

You closed the door behind you, moving away from her door quickly. You looked over your shoulder, to make sure no one else was around—especially not Paul. Your chest heaved as you walked back down the corridor, dimly lit with candles. Your steps echoed down the long hallway. Snow was falling outside, Russian winters were always most brutal and unforgiving. In a month, you’d be able to visit your mom and dad. You were excited and missed them desperately. 

“Miss Y/N?”, the maid’s boss, Larisa eyed you.

“Yes?”, you asked, pushing down a gulp.

“Prince Paul requests your services. He request some wine and his pillows fluffed to his liking.”

You nodded. Could he really not fluff his own damn pillows? Was he that much of a drama queen? This was the moment of truth. Maria eyed you widely and you gave her a glance, telling her not to go there. However, she still wore a smirk. You grabbed the bottle of wine and a glass from the kitchen, and Maria came over to you.

“Prince Paul wants you?”, she asked.

“I’m sure I’m the only one he’s not completely alienated or perhaps the only one not busy.”, you ignored her, gathering a serving tray. 

“I’m not busy.”, Maria stated.

“You mostly help the Empress.”, you responded. “They’re breaking you in with her.”

Maria sighed. “I still think he fancies you.”

You came back up, sitting the tray on the counter before placing the bottle of Paul’s favorite wine and the single glass on the tray. “Maria, you’ve got to stop saying that.”, you shushed her.

“Just stating the obvious.”, she sighed.

“I’ll be back. Wish me luck.”, you sighed as you grabbed the tray, balancing it perfectly as you sat off down the same familiar corridor, except you took a right instead of left to go to Paul’s chambers. Your heart began to beat faster as you neared his door. The same familiar feeling coming back to you as if you had just done this yesterday. But in reality, it had been seventeen months. You kept track of such. 

You took a deep breath, clearing your throat before removing one hand from underneath the tray, careful to keep the balance. Bringing your hand up to the door, the nerves really began to sit in. Your hand was shaking as you knocked on his door, almost praying there would be no answer. 

“Come in.”, his voice was sharp, assertive. 

You took the same shaking hand and opened the door knob, him coming into view. He was sitting on his bed, that obnoxious wig was gone and the makeup removed from his face, leaving his natural form.

“Your wine, sir.”, you eyed him as you sat it down on the table near his bed. 

He nodded. “Thank you.”

You popped the cork on the wine, before grabbing his glass and pouring the wine, leaving it on the tray for him.

“Anything else, your highness?”, you eyed him.

His eyes looked up at yours as he scoffed at your words. “Did you really think I just called you in here for wine?”

“No.”

“Then why ask me that?”, he stood up, grabbing the glass, taking a swig before inching closer to you.

You shrugged easily, feeling very vulnerable. “I don’t know.”

Paul nodded, taking another drink of his wine. “Do you know how much I’ve thought about you?”

You shook your head, having trouble meeting his eyes now that you were right in front of him.

“I’ve practically driven myself mad thinking about you. I don’t like admitting that stuff you know.”, he eyed you.

You nodded sheepishly. 

“Are you not going to speak to me now? Was it my little show at breakfast?”, he asked.

Now that the moment was here, you were having an issue bringing yourself to face him and face the situation. It was the first time you could ask him questions. Part of you feared some of the answers. 

“No.”, you stared down at the floor. 

“Look at me, then.”, Paul grabbed your chin, tilting it to view him. Your face was just mere inches from his, his touch sending chills down your spine. 

The fireplace was warm in his chambers, much warmer than your room. You took a deep sigh, looking into his brown eyes. The fire burning almost just as high as both of your desire for one another. You almost mewled under his touch but refused to be swayed so easily. He had hurt you—done damage to you and part of you wondered if he could undo it. You’d never know until you gave it a try.

“Paul, maybe this was—a mistake.”, you choked out, trying to blink back the impending tears forming in your eyes. 

His eyes changed from concern and care to confusion. “A mistake?”

“I’ve just been thinking….”, you trailed off.

“About?”

“What if someone finds out about us? I saw how mad she got when you were staring at breakfast.”, you eyed him. 

“Did it appear that I gave a fuck? Who would find out? We can keep a good secret.”

A secret. The word made your heart drop. It was hard loving Paul in secret. You’d done it before. Were you going to do it again? You were so unsure of yourself. 

“A secret.”, you smiled, it quickly turning into a frown. 

Paul sighed, visibly seeing his response was not one you wanted to hear.

“We were a secret for a long time, Paul. But I was apparently not important enough to be informed of your engagement.”, a hint of venom in your tone.

All of your emotions were finally allowed to come to a head, and you finally being able to express them to someone. You had held everything in up to this point minus the countless nights you cried alone. Paul eyed you, his eyes narrowing. He opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it, rethinking his words wisely. 

“It wasn’t like that.”, he breathed.

“Really? So the first news I received of it was your engagement dinner?”, you asked, crossing your arms, turning away from him.

The tension was thick in the air. You looked out the window from his bedroom, the snow falling thicker now. You could see it beginning to lay on the ground. 

“I’m sorry for that. I wasn’t sure how to tell you. It wasn’t like it was my decision to get married!”, he defended, raising his voice.

You turned to view him. “Why did you, then?”

“My mother insisted. You know how she is. In case you don’t, ask your mother.”

“So you just fucked me until you were going to decide when it was the right time to tell me of your engagement?”

Paul curved his fist, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, doing his best not to blow up. Especially at you. His entire life was frustrating and it was growing impossible to continue to deal with it. His own wife was ignoring him. His mother treated him like a child when he was clearly old enough to be on the council. He was visibly frustrated, wanting to burst at the seams. 

“No, I wanted to continue things with you.”, he resolved, opening his fist and ungritting his teeth. 

You sighed. “I broke it off for the both of us.”

Paul laughed sarcastically, taking another drink of his wine. “For the both of us to be miserable?”

“No, to protect your marriage and protect my parents.”, you responded. 

He went over and sat down on his bed. “My marriage is a facade or so my mother tells me.”

You quietly walked over to his bed, taking a seat beside him. “Why do you say that?”

He took the last sip of his wine, sitting the glass back down on the silver tray before looking up at you. “Tell me something and be honest with me.”

You nodded, encouraging him to go on. “Yes?”

“What really kept Wilhelmina this morning? I’m sure it wasn’t because she was innocently gossiping with her friend Anastasia.”, he eyed you.

A sigh escaped you. “If she finds out I’ve told you—”

“She won’t. I promise.”, he took your hand easily. 

You looked down, eyeing his hand in yours. Your watery eyes looked back up at Paul’s. You could just imagine what your mother would say about this scandalous act you were committing. 

“Um, well your friend, Count Razumovsky was mentioned.”, you were easing him in.

His eyes widened. “Razumovsky?”, he repeated.

You nodded. “And there were mentions of letters….somewhere in a drawer she keeps locked. I’m not sure if she writes him or he writes her. Maybe both.”

Paul appeared to be a little genuinely surprised by the bombshell you had just dropped. 

“Mother was right.”

He rubbed his face with his free hand, his jaw ticking with anger. You could just see the rage building inside of him. 

“I’m sorry, Paul.”

He looked up at you before laughing hysterically. “Sorry for what? Exposing my whore of a wife, don’t worry. The only horrid thing is I owe my mother an apology.”

You both sat in silence for a moment. His other hand is still in yours. 

“I know it still must be hard.”

Paul sneered easily. “No, hard was being deprived of this—of you.”

His words caused butterflies in your stomach. Your brain hardly had time to process his words before he raised your chin without warning, kissing you deeply. You had missed his touch—his kisses more than anything. You melted into the kiss with him, resting an arm back on his bed to keep yourself from falling back onto his bed, feeling weak. 

“Paul-”, you interjected through a kiss. 

“Hm?”, he hummed in your mouth.

“Should-we-really-do-this—again?”, you asked in-between kisses. 

“An eye for an eye seems fair to me.”, he spoke before his lips met yours again.

Your arm finally gave out, Paul noticing and seizing the opportunity. Your kiss was broken, falling back onto his bed—the softest sheets you’d ever felt in your entire life. Paul climbed on top of you, towering over you. You felt his breath on your face as he began placing kisses on your cheeks, trailing down your chin and neck before reaching your chest. You had missed this so badly.

Even though the room was warm and toasty, goosebumps still appeared on your delicate, sensitive skin. 

“Let’s get you out of this dress, yes?”, he whispered against your skin before he placed a kiss, sending chills up your spine.

You nodded as you sat back up, Paul beginning to unbutton the back of your dress, revealing your corset. You reached behind your back easily, loosening the ribbon holding it together, keeping eye contact with him, a smirk playing off your lips. He smirked back, realizing you wanted this as much if not more than he did. Your dress and corset fell to the floor, leaving you exposed. You took your hair down easily. Paul’s eyes widened. 

“I think your breasts have gotten fuller.”, he commented. 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Well, perhaps. It’s only been seventeen months. Maybe you’ve just forgotten them.”

He smirked, coming over to you, cupping one of your breasts in his hands, causing a slight moan out of you. “Believe me, I’ve not forgotten.”

His words caused a smile to spread across your lips. He took his fingers, dragging them across your nipple, and began to twist it, causing you to mewl under his touch with a moan. A smirk spread across his lips. He knew then and there that he still had you under his spell to a degree. You closed your eyes, letting out a soft exhale. He looked down at you, smirking. It made your stomach turn, a hot feeling pooling deep down inside.

“Paul….”, you sighed.

“Tired of being teased? Beg the future Emperor of Russia to fuck you.”

Desire burned in his dark, brown eyes. You swallowed a gulp, looking up at him. He didn’t break his stare. It ignited something in you—you all in this compromising position. 

“Your majesty, please fuck me.”

Majesty would be how Paul would be referred to once he ascended to the throne, becoming the Emperor of Russia. You could tell this stroked his ego. 

The words rolled off your tongue like honey. Paul smiled, shedding the minimal amount of clothes he was wearing, clearly preparing for bed. You bit your lip as you watched his member spring free. He was fully nude standing in front of you. He smiled smugly as he took his cock in his hands, beginning to stroke it, clearly teasing you. Your had your legs pulled up, waiting for him to do what you were begging him to do. 

His eyes rolled back into his head as he stroked himself a few times, letting out a few moans. 

“You—know—still—doesn’t feel as good as when I’m inside of you.”, he commented, clearly struggling to maintain his composure.

“Really?”, you asked sheepishly.

He nodded before easily gripping your thighs, parting them, preparing you for him. “Yes.”

You felt him brush his member against your entrance, running it up and down your aching clit.

“Paul.”

“Ask correctly.”, Paul commanded before lifting his hand up before it made a sharp, stinging contact with your hip, causing you to yelp.

“Your majesty, please fuck me.”, you begged, your breathing hitched.

He smirked. “Do you know what an honor it is to have the future Emperor of Russia fuck you?”

You nodded. “Yes, your majesty.”

He hummed in satisfaction as he ran his cock against your clit once more, causing you to mewl under his touch. He knew exactly what he was doing. 

“My mother would fall over dead if she heard you say that.”

You smirked easily, holding your breath slightly, waiting for him to give in and fuck you. He teased you two more times before finally granting your wish—what you had been begging him for. He took himself in his hands, giving his cock a final stroke before shoving himself deep inside of you. You moaned loudly in response, missing this feeling of being full with him.

“Did you miss it?”, he smirked. 

You nodded. “Yes.”

He began thrusting himself into you, his pace nice and steady. He steadied himself, sinking his fingertips in the skin on your thigh. You wrapped your legs lazily around his waist, him working himself deep inside of you, managing to hit the right places, gaining moans from you with each thrust. Paul could see your face becoming flushed.

“Paul…..”

“Yes?”

“I’m getting—close.”, you moaned, closing your eyes, 

You just knew this was stroking his ego. “Cum for me. Cum for the future Emperor of Russia.”, he groaned, continuing to fuck himself into you. 

You felt yourself reaching your climax, the feeling pooling in the pit of your stomach. It was an ache you would never forget. Your toes began to curl a tail-tale sign your impending orgasm was near. 

“Paul—” 

“Cum for me.”, he growled.

That final sentence was all it took to send you over the edge. 

“I’m cum-cumming now.”, you hiccuped, gripping his bedsheets.

He smirked as your Venus’s honeypot tightened around him, the walls squeezing his cock. Your legs tightened around him, a final moan escaping your lips. He groaned, closing his eyes but he continued to fuck himself into you.

“My turn.”, he groaned.

You lay on his bed, hair sprawled out on his sheets, feeling your eyes growing heavy. He could see you were already fucked out and he loved it—it gave him a sense of power. His thrusts became faster and deeper, more sensitive than before since you reached your climax. You gave small whimpers with each thrust. His breathing was hitching with each thrust, a sign he was coming close to a release. You both knew each other all too well. 

“I’m gonna cum—are you ready?”, he asked, groaning.

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”, he groaned.

“Yes, your majesty.”

Those words must have sent him over the edge. His hips stuttered, ceasing his thrusts immediately. His chest was heaving as you felt his cock pump his release into you. He stayed like that until he was satisfied he was finished before pulling out of you, causing a whimper to escape your lips at the loss of contact. He sighed as he fell on the bed beside you. 

“Did you enjoy that?”, he asked looking at you.

You nodded. “Yes.”

He smiled as he took you into his arms. The contact shocked you but you allowed him to do it, realizing you were becoming wrapped back into this affair with him. You watched Paul’s expression easily, his eyes fluttering closed. 

“Paul, I’ve got to go.”, you sat up easily. 

“You can’t stay for a little while? Take a small nap with me?”, he sighed, visibly annoyed at the loss of you in his arms.

“Morning will be here soon. And I absolutely can’t be caught in your chambers.”

He sighed as he watched you stand up, visibly weak in the knees and trying to grab your clothes. You made quick work of it, getting them back on almost as fast as Paul took them off. He pulled his sheets around him before he sat up in the bed, watching you. 

“Tomorrow night?”, he asked.

You looked back at him, smirking. “Tomorrow.”

#prince paul #prince paul x reader #catherine the great #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #stranger things #joseph x reader #joseph quinn character #prince paul x fem reader

[stardancerluv]

By the Light of the Silvery Moon

Part Six: New developments for Paul and his wife.

Notes/Warning: Sometimes one gets sent away early into their marriages. One does not refuse their queen…even her son.

18+ only please. Consensual. P in V sex.

Once again…ty so much for reading. ❤️s and reblogs are very appreciated. Along with any comments/feedback! Enjoy!

“Mother, there is no valid reason for me to go and see the Crimea.”

“You are the future king of Russia you need to visit your army.”

“I never did before.”

“Well, you are now married. The role has grown bigger.”

His fingers rolled into a fist and then relaxed before he did it again.”But my wife.”

Catherine made an exaggerated sound. “She will be fine without you.”

His mouth formed a line.

“She has her ladies and there is also the ones in court. She will be fine.”

“What if I don’t go?”

“I will make you.”

She looked up from the map that she had been hovering over. Her eyes were colder then the winter that would soon be upon them.

“When is my coach ready?” Defeat filled him. His mother won this round.

“Dawn.” She replied once again, she eyed the map.

He turned on his heal and left the room.

*******

The sun’s warmth fell over you, as you worked on a handkerchief. There was more you wished to do or to attend to, but with the possibility of Paul leaving; this distracted you. Your personal handmaiden’s words did not bring any reassurance.

The ladies of the court, had sly smiles splashed across their faces. Despite Paul, not paying them any mind. Some still hoped to garner him with their charms.

There was barely a sound, but you could tell that the huge doors near you opened. You glanced up. Relief filled you. Your heart began to pick up speed. It was Paul.

His hand cut through the air. The patter of boots and the swish of skirts filled their otherwise silent room. With a warmth only your handmaiden was possible to have, she closed the door.

Placing the needle, the cloth and thread aside and you got up. You barely took a few steps and you were in Paul’s arms. Despite your heart at quite the beat, your body relaxed.

“I have to go.” His breath felt warm on your throat.

You stiffened and felt as his hold tightened.

“I tried to refuse.”

“She’d never let you.”

He nodded. “Though I had to try.”

You pulled back enough, just enough to meet his eyes. There was hardly any of the warm brown. They had grown dark with his turbulent emotions over leaving.

“I will dispatch messengers with letters.” You promised

“They will return with my own letters.” He replied with his own, stepping aside he pulled off his waist coat, he tossed it onto a nearby chair.

“At least we have tonight. It will be a very lonely, few months.“

You knew it would be. But the knots in your stomach were still there and they hurt.

*******

As Paul moved above you, you tried to hold onto the moment. It hurt your heart to know you didn’t know when you would see your husband, your beloved again.

“I love you.” Paul, managed. His voice was tight with his pleasure.

His eyes met yours and just as your bodies were one, his lips met yours and the kisses you shared were rough, hungry.

“I love you.” You breathed, arching against him before kissing him again.

Your body tightened, your pleasure was growing sharper. Your moans grew louder.

“Sounds like you are growing close love, give yourself up to it. I want to feel you.”

“Yes, oh Paul!” You were breathless and you erupted in your pleasure. His name became a moan as you became undone.

Trembling you wrapped your arms around him. You held him close as he thrust into you chasing his own release.

Your sounds caused his own release to rip through from him. As your hearts beat hard, you melted in the afterglow of your passion.

*******

He held you close, his fingertips caressing your naked hip. “I don’t know how long I will be gone.” He finally said, resting his chin gently on the top of your head.

“I know. Alot of anguish will fill my heart till we can be together again.” You swallowed. “Is there no way you can have a coach come to retrieve me?” You glanced back at.

“No, he said softly. There have been several violent engagements along that border. I could not bare the idea of you being hurt or worse.”

You tightened your arm around his middle. Desperately, you didn’t want to let him go.

******

Be pressed a kiss to your bare knuckles as he held your hand through the open window of the carriage. Your eyes had filled with tears but you were not let them fall in front of Catherine or the court.

“I will think of you each day till we are together again.”

“And I shall as well.” You nodded.

He gave your hand a final squeeze, then glanced down. “Keep her safe boys.” He said softly to Soot and Cinder who sat proudly on either side of you. Grimacing, he tapped the roof of the coach and sat back into it. The coach man called out and you stepped back.

You waited till his coach passed the gates. Then turning with the hounds close on your heels you made quick haste back to your chambers.

******

Sitting at your vanity you finally let the tears come. With a shaky hand you pulled the pins from your hair. You would not leave your chambers today. A day for your heart was needed.

Looking down at your brush that sat on your vanity, you found a note scrawled sitting beside it. Your heart lifted. Your lips curved into a smile, making the tears pause as you read Paul’s sweet words of love.

******

A week later, when you found yourself lonely in court you had the letter tucked into your bodice and you didn’t feel so terribly alone. The other girls who vied for Paul’s affection or to catch Catherine’s eye giggled behind gloved hands and fans in one corner while you stood, occasionally glancing out the grand windows with your heart warmed by the sweet words Paul left you in that note.

*****

His lips were wrinkled in disgust as he stalked through the muddy ground. His men were in different to his presence. They barely took mind of him when he walked past them. It had been a very long week since the two of you said good bye. He was eager to return to you.

@amethyst-serenade @laura-naruto-fan1998

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfic #prince paul #prince paul fanfiction #prince paul fanfic #prince paul fluff #prince paul smut #prince paul angst #prince paul x reader #prince paul x you #prince paul x y/n #catherine the great #catherine the great fanfiction #joe quinn fanfic

[helpwhatsthis]

just watched Catherine the Great today and that party scene.

god, can I get a Prince Paul x Fem!Reader where she rips that dress off him in their bedchambers and we’ll just full on smut.

my darling- p.p.

i got way too fucking carried away with this lmao. i hope you like it!

warnings: sub!paul, dom!reader, mommy kink, reference to his pecks as tits like once, slight blood, google translation of russian like twice, very very small mention of death, unprotected p in v (obvi), probably spelling errors, best friends to lovers, pinning as fuck (mutual) let me know if you think i need to add any!

was it really so wrong to be in love with your best friend? well for most people, no; but what about if he was a prince, a ragging asshole, and set to marry a princess in less than three months? yeah, that kinda seems like an issue.

the biggest problem lied within the fact that there wasn't a single royal bone in your whole body. the daughter of one of catherins' most trusted guards, orphaned after his death protecting her from an assassination. no one, not a single soul, had expected her to take in his unruly, boyish, and snarky daughter; let alone treat her as one of her own. all of those things people saw a large flaws in your character had only made her love you more. she felt she had a debt to pay to the man who'd saved her life, and she more than paid it off through you every day.

that's how you'd ended up here, in a black and red dressing suit, watching paul grumble about how his dress made him appear to have notable cleavage. it's endearing really, the way you watch him try to balance the extravagant wig on his head while simultaneously keep his corset pulled up.

"how the hell do you do this every day?" he growls, slapping away the hand of panin, who’s trying to fix his makeup. 

“i try not to, unless it’s necessary.” you hum, trying to bite back your laughter at his expense. “i sit in a room full of men talking about war every day, so there’s not exactly a need for pretty dresses.” you move in front of him, helping him to pull his collar into place. 

“can’t breathe in this damn thing.” he groans, now that the canvas squeezes his ribs. 

“for what it’s worth, you look lovely, your excellency.” you giggle, smoothing down the skirt of the gown to avoid looking in his eyes. he rolls them, letting out an annoyed huff. 

“you know i hate when you call me that.” he leans down to capture your gaze with his, causing your heart to pick up speed. 

“technically, i’m here on business. so i have to.” you whisper, face merely an inch from his. 

“y/n! darling, could you come here for a moment?” catherin shouts. 

“don’t fall apart without me.” you laugh, finger gesturing up and down his outfit. you maneuver your way through the sea of guests, attempting to find where she’d called you from. she snags your wrist and pulls you close. 

“what’s wrong?” you ask, voice hushed. 

“oh, nothing!” she laughs, hand moving to her chest. “just couldn’t stand to watch you make schoolgirl eyes at one another anymore.” you look away bashfully, eyes inevitably landing on paul. “my offer still stands by the way, love. just say the word and i’ll call off his wedding.” she persuades, bumping your shoulder with her own. 

“i can’t ask you to do that.” you whisper, trying to sound less defeated than the conversation always makes you feel. “i know my place.” 

“all too well, apparently.” she chuckles, “all i’m saying-” she starts, noticing your discomfort, “there’s no woman i’d rather have betrothed to my son than you. you’d keep his mind in check... and give him good babies.” she laughs again at the gasp you let out. “he’d be happy.” 

“there are plenty of women who can make him happy... and give him babies.” you huff, beginning to walk off. you suddenly don’t feel in the mood to stay at the party. 

you press your fingers to your eyes, trying to concentrate on the book in your lap instead of the sleepiness threatening to overtake you. a rapid knock at your door makes you spring out of bed quickly, momentarily checking the decency of your sleep clothes in the mirror. you pull back the door, seeing paul standing on the other side. his wig and makeup are long gone, but he’s still adorning his dress. 

“can’t get this stupid this off.” he whimpers embarrassedly. you giggle, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and grabbing his hand. he lets you lead him back to his bedchambers, occasionally letting out little growls of annoyance when he trips over the end of the gown. 

he finally stands in front of his mirror, pulling off the cover over his corset. 

“how was the rest of the party?” you ask absentmindedly, beginning to undo the tight knot of strings holding the canvas around his back. the intricacy of the strings filling you with annoyance. 

“nearly unbearable after you left.” he recounts, eyes flicking to watch your refection. he hears you let out a small grunt of agitation over the ribbons. “some girl wouldn’t stop flirting with me. clearly being engaged means nothing to he-” he’s cut off by the way you release a loud growl, gripping the top of the material and ripping. the sound of the tere pulls your eyes to his in the mirror. 

“enough.” you snap, watching the way the canvas falls forward, exposing the expanse of his tone torso. you squint your eyes shut, trying to breath away the anger quickly filling your stomach. you open them again to see he’s still watching you, a small smirk on his face. “what?” you hiss. 

“it’s adorable how much you fancy me.” he grins. your face falls, breath hitching. “my mother just told me all about it.” he turns to look at you, “not as if i needed her too; but the confirmation was nice.” he turns, taking your chin in his hand and angling your face up to his. 

“i’m sorry.” you whisper sadly, he only smiles. 

“s’really flattering.” he hums, thumb stroking your bottom lip. before you can protest or defend yourself, he slams his lips into yours. it takes you a moment to properly kiss him back, relishing in the taste of cherries and vodka. you finally sink in, throwing your arms around his bare shoulders, as well as your false morality out the window. when he pulls back, he’s got the most arrogant smile on his face. you decide you’re going to wipe it off. 

“off. now.” you demand, tugging roughly at the skirt of his gown. 

“oh yeah?” he smirks. you reach up, gripping his jaw tightly and glaring daggers at him. 

“be a good boy and take the dress off.” you snap. his eyes flutter shut, a soft moan leaving his lips at your words. you press a short kiss to his cheek, then move back to watch him undress. he does so quickly, hands trembling as he pulls down the dress and stockings. 

“there’s my obedient boy.” you coo, sitting on the end of his bed. he stands, gulping harshly and trying not to make it obvious how much your words are affecting him. the evidence is obvious though, standing at attention and twitching in his underwear. “c’mere, my dorogoy.” you whisper, arms extending to pull him between your legs. 

he looks down at you tentively, through hooded eyes and long lashes. you hold searing eye contact with him, fingers hooking in his waistband. a small whine leaves his throat when your fingernails scrape the soft skin of his hips. you grin up at him sadistically, pulling the fabric down his legs. his cock snaps up, slapping the skin of his stomach. you admire it, pink, thick, and leaking an embarrassing amount at the slit. 

“did i tell you how pretty your tits’ looked in that dress?” you ask, the endless smirk still on your lips. you reach up and begin to tweak one of his nipples between your thumb and forefinger. 

“t-thank you.” he mumbles, lust overshadowing embarrassment. you stand, tummy pressing against his cock through your thin nightshirt. 

“this looks painful, baby boy.” you muse, hand snaking between your bodies to grasp firmly at his shaft. he makes a high preening sound in the back of his throat at your touch. “what? nothing cocky to say now that i’m touching it?” he throws his head back, moaning as you start to stroke him. the needy sound makes your clit throb. 

“please, y/n-” he begs. you reach up, cupping his jaw and guiding him to look at you. 

“not my name, lover.” you hum against his lips. 

“mommy-” he cries softly, tears filling his eyes as you jerk him harder. you nod, placing a kiss to his chin. you can feel your wetness running down your thighs, no doubt ruining your pants. 

“lay on the bed, lyubovnik.” he follows your order without question, crawling beside you and positioning himself on the pillows. you practically purr, admiring him. his curls are delicately fallen over his forehead, a huge contrast to the way he pants erratically and wiggles his hips in discomfort from his throbbing cock. you take your time, undressing slowly. 

“mommy, please!” he cries out when you free your breasts from the confides of your shirt. 

“patience, needy boy.” you tut, crawling up his body and straddling his thighs. “i know it’s never been one of your virtues, but i need you to try for mommy.” he nods, tears starting to fall at his own need. you lean down, breasts pressing against his chest as you kiss him passionately. he moans into the kiss, hips thrusting up into the plush part of your belly. 

“s-sorry.” he whispers into your mouth. 

“s’alright, little one. i’ll let it pass.” you coo, pressing a sweet kiss to his nose. without warning, you drop your hip down. the girth of his cock stretches you painfully. he cries, high and needy as one hand moves to pinch your clit and the other rests on your him. tears of your own surface at the pain. you glance down, a small line of blood runs from where you’re connected, pooling at the base of his cock and mixing with your arousal. 

“you okay?” he asks, comfortingly squeezing at your love handle. 

“i’m fine, baby boy.” you hum, “only strings a bit, it’s been a while.” you promise, starting to rock your hips softly. his head falls back, worry completely forgotten. 

he babbles as you continue your fast rhythm. the sounds of your wetness working up and down his girth lewd and sinful, only urging you on. he desperately attempts to work your clit, rolling it in shaky circles. you reach between you, guiding his hand to rest on your abdomen. 

“can feel you in my stomach, angel.” you purr, biting softly at his collarbone. 

“mommy, i’m gonna-” he sobs, tears of pleasure running down the sides of his face. 

“i know, darling. cum for me.” you urge, but he rapidly shakes his head. 

“don’t wanna before you do.” he whimpers. you shake your head, biting his bottom lip. 

“it’s fine, little one. let go for mommy.” you whisper against his mouth. he gasps, hands moving to hold you down on him as he fills you up. you hide your head in his neck, panting into the skin and the warmth fills your insides. you sit like that for a while, holding him and tracing your fingers over the skin of his pecks. 

a thought hits you, making you stand from the bed abruptly and pull your clothes on. 

“where in gods’ name are you going?” he asks, sitting up and starting to panic. 

“need to talk to catherin.” you state shortly, causing his face to contort in confusion. “you are not getting married to that fucking princess.” you growl, pulling your shirt over your head. his eyes widen, mouth falling open in realization. you lean forward, pressing a rushed kiss onto his lips. “i’ll be right back, i love you.” you hum, hurrying out of the room. 

he grins, throwing himself back onto the pillows and laughing lightly. 

“i love you too, y/n.” he whispers into the thick air. 

#prince paul x reader #prince paul #catherin the great #joseph quinn #prince paul smut #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #josephquinn #joe quinn

[m7nson]

Would love to request a fluffy x reader with Prince Paul where the reader comforts him after a fight with his mother

thank you-> Prince Paul

A/n - I'm sorry this took forever- but I did it :D also this is a fem! Reader if you want me to change it to gn I can!

Not edited

God he hated that women, all he wanted to do was join the council. Run what his dad left that's all he wants. He wishes he was still here instead of that bloody mother of his. Walking to his apartment ready to just lay in bed with his amazing wife.

Pushing open the door signing taking of his white wig throwing it and unbuttoning his blouse. And grabbing his night clothes, he didn't notice you in the bed. Closing your book and placing it on the stand. Noticing how tense his shoulders are, making you slightly frown.

Walking to him as he finished putting on his night shirt. Hugging him from behind kissing his neck, "what did she say?" You asked putting your head on his shoulder "same thing as always.."

He turned to face you as you cupped his cheek "she'll come to her senses soon.." he sighed letting go of you too grab your hand, dragging you tye the bed. Letting go to get on his side as you got on yours. As soon as you hit the bed he moved to your chest, signaling that he wants to be held.

Putting your arm around him and the other lightly scratching his head. He sighed calmly "thank you.." he mumbled making you confused "for what dear?" "For loving me.." you frowned kissing his head "I should say that to you.."

He shook his head "I just love you so fucking much.." he said closing his eyes as you play with his curls "I love you too so fucking much.. always my love."

#°｡☆ -> [ PRINCE PAUL 💌 ] #prince paul x reader #prince paul #catherine the great #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fluff

[badmirvcle]

Childish - [Prince Paul x Reader] (1/?)

Word count: 2.4k 

Pairing: (Catherine the Great) Prince Paul x Fem!Reader / Y/N

Genre(s): Slow burn, (Slight) angst, Mutual Pining 

Warnings:  Strong Language, Adult Situations, (Eventual) Smut || MINORS DNI || (More warnings will be added as chapters are updated).

Summary: You’ve known Paul your whole life - known that you were to belong to him one day. He’s always gotten what he wanted, so why make it easy for him?

A/N: I haven’t written anything in yeeearrsss so apologies for being rusty! I’m thinking of making this a mini series (maybe 3/ 4 chapters?) I love slow burns but not THAT slow, y’know? 

Paul is rambling about something you don’t care for again.

“Do they not know the difference?” you mumbled with thinly veiled disinterest.

Something about the line of succession in Russia, you suppose. As always. If not this, then a myriad of complaints about his mother. You prayed he would find a hobby soon. Nevertheless, you played along.

“It appears that they do not.” he huffed.

“Then perhaps they are ignorant. I suppose they are yet to realise that you are ordained by god. Born to rule. The epitome of Russian male excellence and mediocre height-” you chirp as you slowly sway from side to side to mask your restlessness. You could play this game with him for hours.

“-Oh, you suppose, do you?” His face brightens incrementally for a moment. He hoped it wasn’t obvious how much he wanted to reach out and grab you each time you leaned in close to him, reaching out to delicately grasp a flower’s petals between the tips of your fingers.

“Yes, suppose I do.” As you look away back toward the palace and your watchful mother for a moment, he seizes the opportunity to glance down at your cleavage and let out a quiet, but deep sigh.

The childish back and forth had been going on for almost an hour now. Pettily poking and prodding at whatever words the other strung together in order to force a pleasant conversation. Neither of you knew any other way to be. This was supposed to be a ‘calming stroll’ through the gardens, yet you found yourself unable to breathe your frustration out - constricted by your corset and Paul’s face centimetres from your own, relentlessly taunting you gleefully. You both must have known what this farce really was - a chemistry read. Your mother, off to one side smiling behind her fan with one of the Empresses' ladies, eyeing you both like a hawk. You were having none of it.  

“Well.” He continues. “There we have it. May I say no more, lest I waste my precious breath on you.”

You glower at his proud display of childish petulance. You shouldn’t be having fun with this - you’d been informed that it wasn’t lady-like, apparently.

“Why must you be this way? It is not the fault of your father, nor your mother - what accursed thing possessed you in your childhood to have you turn out so intolerable?”

He gawked in stunned silence for a moment, before his eyes brightened and a smile broke out across his boyish face. You hated when he did that. He looked almost pretty.

'Oh here we go' you thought, begrudgingly.

“And what mewling quim did you crawl out of to foster you into the vicious harpy that you are?” finishing off with a sly smile and a smug side-eye.

For a moment, you find him handsome.

Although you hated to admonish it, that was eloquently done. Quite a sophisticated level of snark from him. Touché.

You feign a gasp as your hand is dramatically flung to your forehead and you bend yourself back as far as your silk prison of a dress would allow you, falsifying weak knees.  

“Paul! My mother speaks only highly of you, how unbecoming of a gentleman. However shall we join our two houses now? Bring harmony to our court?”

In all honesty, you couldn’t for the life of you remember what you were quarrelling about in the first place - It was irrelevant now. You were bored. Or perhaps it had slipped from your mind so easily because you had caught sight of how the Tsaverich had been eyeing your lips as you spat poison his way.

“On the subject of court and harmony..” You begin, coyly. Paul raises a well-groomed brow at you.

“Your mother- the Empress has expressed a growing interest in my future betrothal. Seems she wishes to see me making some other poor soul’s life a living hell”. You foolishly seemed to think that by jesting about the topic it would soothe the thunderstorm forming over his soft, but reddening face.

“Of course she has. Can’t have me keeping the company of any friends, can she? However would she keep her control over me then?” He attempts to steady his breathing before he stutters out an irritated laugh under his breath. “Besides…are we not already engaged? You are to be mine, she cannot take you then.” He chances a glance at you before he continues on with his train of thought.

You feel your neck flush a warm pink, slightly taken aback at the all too familiar subject being brought up again.

“It has always been a suggestion by our mothers, yes. But surely that is all it is, all it has ever been? We were children then! You; 8 and I only 6 and if I recall correctly, that was the first and last time that we got along” you reasoned, with a huff. “Surely neither of us are so desperate yet.”

Daggers. He’s glaring daggers now. Brilliant. As much as you generally enjoyed taking a hammer to the Prince’s peace, the sudden shift in topics had left you feeling queasy. It was now or never, if you didn’t royally piss him off now then he would be chasing you down the halls until he had you cornered both physically and metaphorically with a ring cutting off the circulation of your left hand. On the surface, you understood what your mothers had intended for the two of you and why - had Paul become any other man and you any other woman, you would have made a handsome pair. But as things were, you would never work. You could not. You drove each other wild and not in the exciting way and you didn’t feel like developing wrinkles by the age of 20 from the stress.

You hadn’t realised that you’d both stopped walking in favour of staring at each other in open-mouthed silence, and it was beginning to become uncomfortable.

‘Please don’t ask, please don’t ask me, please please’ maybe the mental chanting would work to cast a spell of protection to evade the elephant that’s been in the room since you were both barely out of your infancy.

“I will be seeing you at the ball then, I presume? Not one to pass up the chance to sink your claws into your next potential victim, little devil.”

You successfully mask your sigh of relief through a tight smile.

Oh, he seemed proud of that one. His lips were doing that sinister little side smirk you hated so much that you couldn’t look away. And he noticed. He absolutely noticed. So he held it there to tease you.

Little devil.

“Would you miss me too much if I decided not to? Could you bear the loneliness, my sweet Prince?” you purred as you took an unnecessarily deep and exaggerated curtsey, aware of the eye-full he was getting.

An equally exaggerated eye roll and he was back to his usual bratty self.

“Couldn’t stand to miss witnessing you hunting those poor men down for sport” he laughs softly, almost to himself. “Besides, it will be a welcome distraction, perhaps you’ll cause enough of a ruckus so that I may avoid my mother’s beady gaze for the evening and find some fun in a quiet corner for myself.”

He looks at you excitedly, almost as if he were a child who knew something you did not.

But a child you were not. Sex was hardly beyond your comprehension.

You’re not exactly sure what caused the sudden flush over your chest and the following hot anger, but before you could reason with yourself you found your own voice strained and spitting venom.

“Make your best effort to avoid the headache of bringing along some bastard for both our sakes while you’re off having this ‘fun’.” You scowl. “I would hate to give anyone any more reason to chain us together under the eyes of god. No getting out of that one I’m afraid, so do try to keep yourself out of the wrong maid”

Ah, that was a tad cruel.

“I wasn’t planning on- planning to-” Paul found himself floundering now, desperate for his eyes to not betray him and sink back down to watch your lips curve smoothly as you whispered your increasingly harsh ‘japes’.

You’re jealous.

He’s flustered, but not in the way you found yourself wanting him to be. Where that sudden thought came from, you would ruminate in the privacy of your chamber tonight.

‘Little devil’ you mused again. You liked that.

“No? Good. Now, I have other matters to attend to, I must be off.” You really didn’t want to leave him so soon, his reactions were starting to get interesting.

“Now just a moment-” Without thinking, he’s extending his arm to reach blindly for your hand, never once breaking eye contact. Are his eyes becoming glassy? He’s adorable, you want to see him like this more often, you think.

Now you’re feeling mean.

A chance to make him panic.

Maybe you can make him cry.

“Can’t keep your mother waiting, we have much to discuss. Good day, Tsarevich.”

“Tsarevna.” He mumbles softly, his cheeks dusting a soft pink as he looks down at his feet in a slight bow.

But you catch none of it - already marching back toward your grinning mother and her ever growing gaggle of gossipers. She looks proud, at least. Most likely mistaking the physical closeness of yourself and Paul to be playful attempts at stealing shy kisses, rather than hissing curses to each other through an awkward tension you’d never experienced before. Well, not with him of all people.

“My darling girl-” she sings softly into your ear as she embraces you just a tad too tightly to call it lovingly.

“Matushka” you attempt to bow your head slightly in gentle acknowledgement.

“I see your outing went well with your Prince, he couldn’t keep his gaze off of you - not even for a moment, we all found it so absolutely precious.” Her eyes flicker back down the gravel path and to Paul for the briefest moment before meeting your anxious but expectant gaze again. “Whatever spell you have cast over him, keep that up. We shall make a Princess of you yet, it was meant to be as our Patriarch told your father and I on the day we-”

“-On the first day you brought me to court - yes mother, god forbid I ever forget my true purpose here.”

“Good girl. Now, I’ve been informed that the Empress personally invited you to a joint dress fitting for the festivities. You shouldn’t keep her waiting and you can’t afford to miss this appointment, you must aim to be the most eye-catching cherub in the room - mustn't let another steal his affections.”

It hurt. You were hurt. As much as you willed it to be different, it would never be. You were not brought here to make friends, to find your place. You were here to be groomed into the position of Tsarevna - the future wife of Tsarevich Paul. As immature as you knew you had been, you knew deep down that this is why you had never allowed yourself to become close to him in the way you had wanted to - you wanted to be his friend so desperately, whilst growing up. You just could not allow yourself to blindly follow the path that had been designed for you by your puppet-master parents and their equally scheming Empress.

 Perhaps you wouldn’t have much in the way of control over your life, but you’ll take the small victories by making the desires of your betters just that little bit more difficult to attain. They cannot force your happiness, therefore it had been decided by you that should you be forever chained to Paul - you would have him live to regret it.

Of course, that had been the plan. Throughout your childhood, you had always found Paul to be rather unpleasant to look at. The way his face would scrunch up in tandem with his fists whenever he had a temper-tantrum, his cheeks and neck turning an ugly shade of plum as his anger rose - which was constant. You had always towered over him - he was a shy little thing, shook like a leaf at the slightest confrontation from the other children. This led to you becoming his protector, naturally. He was never quite the Prince who was supposed to sweep you off of your feet one day.

Every summer, you would make the lengthy trip back to the palace and make good with the lords and ladies of court, be sweet to the royal family, unwittingly court their son and then be on your way back home with your parents and nanny. That is, until your father received an invitation for a permanent position at court and your mother - a long time friend to the Empress, to be welcomed into her tight-knit circle of vipers-in-waiting.

3 years had passed since you had last found yourself here, you had quite been enjoying your education in France and felt reluctant to return.

Yet, somehow. At some point, the rug had been swept from under your feet. That morning, as Catherine had come to greet you all for the final time at the main entryway to the palace, the eyes you had met 100 times over her shoulder were not the same angry little black dots that you had grown so familiar with. Instead, your breathing had stilled as you struggled to maintain a mask of polite indifference.

Were they always so big, like a baby deer’s? So vibrant. Did you spot flecks of gold now that he was out here standing in the sun? His jaw had sharpened too - and he was taller, taller than you. Much taller than you and broad. Now possessing a strange but alluring confidence - no, arrogance that really should not have had you standing there, openly staring with not a single word forming in your mouth or brain. Paul was handsome. 3 years and he was handsome.

Not one to usually be self-conscious, you suddenly find your eyes flitting over yourself. Did you fill out your dress nicely? Was the light shade of lilac adorning your tightly-fitted gown a fashionable choice? Was the wind carrying your perfume and was it to his liking or perhaps it was too overwhelming?

Unbeknownst to you, Paul was suffering through his own internal crisis. You had made it no secret to him in your adolescence just how unbecoming his face and attitude was, how your own face soured around him and how it was doing something similar in this moment. His mother was talking but all he could hear was white noise and his own stifled breathing as he rapidly and openly scanned over you. In some twist of fate, the two of you had shared a thought that morning as you stood together, bowing to each other in your matching shades of purple as if you were two flowers from the same meadow. A romantic thought had crossed his mind for a moment, but only for a moment - of this being fate. A romantic however, he was not as he’d let the notion slip away from his mind as easily as it had entered.

A/N ii: this one goes out to all of my argumentative girlies, fighting means flirting here & you’re in a safe space to be as mean as you want to your boy toys <3

#childish fanfic #you waaaaant eachother #reader hates Paul’s wig #she’s just waiting for the right moment to tell him #prince paul x reader #joseph quinn #x reader #catherine the great #mini series #joseph quinn characters #joseph quinn x reader #prince paul

[dingusfreakhxrrington]

Hi luv, Since you've mentioned that you gonna start writing for Joe Quinn's other characters, I do have a request for Prince Paul. So, I was thinking that the reader is pining and vying for his attention then she got upset when she heard that Paul is set to marry someone else because Paul thought that reader's feelings for him are only platonic. During party dinner, they were about to discuss about the marriage but she cannot take the jealousy anymore and stormed out somewhere to the garden and then Paul followed her then the confession onwards and you can decide what happens next. You can write this if you're free. I'm dying for Prince Paul content lol! Thanks! 💞💞

It Has Always Been You

gif by me

summary: you’ve had feelings for paul for a while but you soon come to hear that he is set to marry someone else. after running off during dinner, paul comes out to find you in the gardens where you finally confess your true feelings, waiting anxiously to hear what he has to say.

pairing: prince paul x f!reader

warnings: a little angst, mostly fluff, mentions of marriage, mentions of engagement, mutual pining, reader ‘isn’t like other princesses’

word count: 2k

a/n: sorry this took a while, i wasn’t sure what to write but i came to me over the past couple of days while i’ve been ill and i can’t thank you enough for requesting this because i love how it turned out 🤍

friendly reminder that comments and reblogs are just as (if not more than) important as likes!

The prince of Russia was a difficult man to read, despite what others thought of him. He was often in a sour mood, his face full of frowns and rarely smiles.

He was always arguing with his mother, spitting out vile words about her as he told her he hated her. Although, he always succumbed to her love when she was gentle with him. He missed his father and, as much as he hated his mother at times, he still needed her love.

Most assumed he was stuck up and petty, always whining about something or throwing another tantrum despite how easy he had it in life.

In reality, that was true, other than how easy many thought he had it, but there was far more to him beneath the surface.

In the time since you had come to Russia, you had made many attempts at befriending the prince.

You had spoken to him on occasion and, after some time, found that he was often the one coming to find you whenever there was a party or dinner you were both attending.

Despite your belief that you had managed to grow closer to him, hoping for the chance of perhaps courting him, you soon came to learn that he was engaged and set to marry another.

It had all been kept rather quiet as there was talk he first did not approve of the match his mother had set for him but, once his suitor had won his heart the news quickly spread through the palace.

To say you were unhappy with the news would have been an understatement. You were well and truly heartbroken.

Still, you knew there was little you could do to prevent the marriage, especially when the Empress herself was so set on it. So, you held your tongue and allowed him to confide in you as a friend would and nothing more.

At least, until talk of the marriage started at the next dinner party.

“Ah, Paul my dear. Hurry and sit down, we must discuss the details of your wedding.”

Paul was walking with his bride-to-be, their arms entwined as he escorted her to the table to eat when his mother called out to them.

You glanced over, watching him smile as he held her hand and pulled out her chair for her. The princess of Germany, the woman he was to wed. She was beautiful, no one could deny that, and you could see why Paul had fallen for her.

Grace and beauty had never really been your thing, although you had been well educated in how a princess was supposed to behave.

When you spoke with Paul at first you were quiet and composed, letting him lead the conversation, but when he seemed to only tire of you quickly you began to show your true colours.

You started to make jokes and speak your mind, opting to catch his attention with a blunt truth rather than a quaint smile and a giggle. Your laughs grew louder and more uncontrolled; your thoughts rarely kept to yourself as you discussed whatever had been on your mind.

It seemed to have captivated him for a while at least, and he started to open up to you too, showing you a side he scarcely showed to anyone else. Although now you figured perhaps he preferred beauty and grace after all.

The two of you were friends and good ones at that. You should have been content with that but you weren’t and you knew you never would be. You were in love with him, as foolish as that now seemed, and it was almost impossible for you to sit there and be happy for him.

If he was truly happy then you would be too, even when you were not. You just needed some more time to come to terms with the reality, time to let it sink in so that you could truly support him even when he had not chosen you.

So, you stood up without a word. Some eyes darted to you, noticing the abrupt manner in which you had risen to your feet. Others barely even noticed you were there, all much too focused on the prince and his betrothed.

Before long you found yourself in the gardens as you ran a finger through your already dishevelled hair.

You tugged at your corset, pulling it until it gave way under the force and loosened enough for you to properly breathe. It only helped a little, your breathing still hastened and ragged as you tried to quell your racing mind.

Although you were a princess, you were never all that good at being a proper lady. When you were being taught to read and write you’d have much rather been taking lessons on the back of a horse or out fighting with a sword in hand.

You weren’t delicate or graceful or beautiful. You were just you. Rowdy and lively and filled with a little rebellion. You weren’t what he wanted, you weren’t her.

“Y/n?”

His breathing was as ragged as yours when he finally caught up with you, his wig already beginning to slip out of place as he spoke to you.

“Paul? What are you doing out here?”

You didn’t understand why he’d followed you, not when his perfect bride was waiting for him inside.

“I saw you leave, I came to find you. Why are you out here? Why did you leave?”

His eyes were soft and far too gentle, searching for something unbeknownst to you within your own.

He was to be married in less than a few weeks' time and yet he was out here with you rather than sitting in there as his mother discussed wedding details with him.

Your sigh was loud as it tumbled from your lips, your frustration beginning to show through the cracks in the ever-so-careful mask you had put on for show.

Maybe if you just told him and he put some space between you it would be easier. Maybe you just needed to get out with it and be done with it. Maybe this was the best thing to do after all.

“I am out here because I cannot bear to be in there any longer. I cannot sit there and listen to all the talk of your wedding and pretend I am happy for you. I cannot sit there and smile as though I am not in love with you. That, Paul, is why I am out here.”

Your voice had come out in a much harsher tone than you had intended and, by the time you were done, there were tears prickling in your eyes.

His eyes widened as you pushed your palm to your forehead, already thinking yourself a fool for what you had said. Maybe it hadn’t been the right thing to say after all. Especially now that you were crying in front of him — over him.

“Y-You love me?”

His voice was a stutter but you only sighed again.

“Yes. Now, yell at me all you want or tell me to go or simply just leave. Do not make me stand here like a fool any longer.”

He stepped closer and before you had time to move away, his hand was on your cheek, turning your face towards him once again.

“You love me?” His voice was stronger now, more sure. It was a fact no longer in question yet he asked again anyway, simply wanting to hear your answer again.

Your eyes flickered up to him, bashful in the way you nodded, pushing your head gently against the palm of his hand.

“Yes,” you whispered now, almost afraid of your own words.

In but a single blink, his lips were on yours. They were everything you had expected, soft and passionate and sweet. They found rhythm with yours as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him so that you were now chest to chest.

When you finally parted solely for the sake of taking in some air, he smiled.

It was such a genuine smile, one you had not expected to see after confessing your love to a man who was supposed to have already given his heart to another.

“Say it again,” he asked his voice nothing but a tender breath against your skin.

“I love you, Paul,” you complied, almost forgetting entirely that he was engaged to be wed to another in only a few weeks' time.

“And I, you.” He gently ran the back of his hand against your cheek, his knuckles so delicate as they moved across your skin.

You reached up and wrapped your hand around his wrist, reason finding you once again as you pulled his hand away, taking a step back.

“You cannot say this, not now. You are to be married. You love her, not me.”

He stepped forward once again, closing the distance between you no sooner than you had put it there. “I have never loved her. It has always been you.”

Your heart wrenched at his words, struggling to believe them. He was joking, toying with you. He had to be, it was the only thing that made sense.

“Why did you say nothing sooner? Why agree to marry her?”

“Because I thought you would never feel the same. I did not know, did not think you could ever love me as I do you.”

You scoffed, your voice fragile as your fingers moved to rub out the creases in your brow. “Then we are both fools.”

It was quiet for a moment as he too chuckled, moving closer to you once again. He brushed your dishevelled hair behind your ear, not bothering to move his hand away once he was done.

“Marry me,” he said, the words a promise rather than a question.

“What about your betrothal?”

“We need not worry about that. My mother will call the engagement off if I ask her. She has always preferred you anyway.”

A smile graced your lips and you let yourself succumb to his embrace, no longer caring if anyone caught the two of you.

You reached up, tugging his wig from his head, and tossed it aside as you ran your fingers through his natural curls.

He did not complain when you licked at your thumb and began to rub at the makeup on his face, smudging it as you tried to free him from beneath it.

You just wanted to see him as he was supposed to be, as you had rarely seen him before. The man underneath the royal title, beneath the mask — the man you loved.

“I love you,” he said again, leaning forward with a faint smile to brush his nose against yours, his lips only a pinhead’s width away from your own.

I love you. He would never tire of the words. He’d repeat them endlessly he if could, muttering them between kisses when his lips found yours again.

He had waited so long to say them, so long to hear them come from your lips as well. He’d convinced himself it was never going to happen, that you would only ever see him as a dear friend.

There was not a bird in the sky that could fly as high as he was feeling right at that moment, knowing that you harboured the same feelings for him. Knowing that you loved him too.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

You chuckled against his lips, smiling as you felt his arm tighten around your waist, pulling you closer than ever before. When the kisses ceased, he simply held you in his arms. His hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing tenderly across your flushed cheeks.

“I love you. I always have and I always will. Say you’ll marry me, I need to hear you say it. I need to know this is real.”

His voice was so quiet, so gentle. His eyes burning with adoration and desire. You were all he wanted — everything he wanted.

“Of course, I’ll marry you, you fool. I would have married you the very day we met if you had only asked.”

If it were even possible, he smiled wider and his lips found their place with yours once again.

feel free to let me know if you want to be added to or removed from my taglist!

taglist: @male-reader-reblogs

#—dinguswritings ⌕ #prince paul #prince paul x reader #prince paul catherine the great #prince paul joseph quinn #prince paul x f!reader #prince paul x fem reader #prince paul x female reader #prince paul fluff #prince paul angst #requested #fujiihime

[throughpatchesofviolet]

Oh my gosh ... I got the cat her meds on the first try, this morning ... I hecking did it.

#I have to make my lunch and get breakfast made ... agh ... #I'm still not feeling very good ... I would like the torture of Heathcliff/Catherine to stop #I do keep thinking about that line from an x reader fic though ... one of the few fics out there that matched my own interpretation-- #--of Heathcliff falling in love again with someone new ... #... there was another part that got me all flustered but we're disregardinf that right now-- #^ he's the only f/o I'm okay with being mildly possessive of me/my s/i on account of what he's dealt with #he and Sherry work through it I promise!! #I just do think he's goinf to be a bit possessive at first because ... * gestures at everything that's happened to him * #but once he knows Sherry isn't going to betray him like Catherine did he gets better #there's a level of trust between them at that point and Sherry takes great care not to break it #... loving Heathcliff is a physically painful affair for me because my heart keeps going through it #but I don't want to leave him behind because he does help me ... I just wish he knew someone loved him genuinely ... #r: remind my heart to beat 💢 #^ once again for my dang tags ... I am too shy to gush about this in a post because it'd get too long #scattered pages

[princesssmars]

this my longest fic yet and im not even done...sapphics with a crush on her you are in luck because i will hopefully be done with this cath x reader soon 😭<3

#catherine the great #the great #the great show #the great hulu #catherine x reader #peter iii of russia #catherine the great x reader

[fujiihime]

I want to read more fics about Prince Paul from Catherine the Great and Ralph from Timewasters but I only found a few fics. I hope someone writes a lot more fanfics about these characters. 🥲

#prince paul x reader #ralph timewasters x reader #ralph timewasters #catherine the great #prince paul imagine #joseph quinn

[babybluebex]

i have a hankering for mean, spoiled, angry, prince paul.

me too bestie, me too cw spanking, names (whore, vixen, slut)

His hand came down on your ass again, and you cried out at the pain that seared through your skin. You thought that every spank would be the last one, but they kept coming, your husband hanging over you with some sort of mad glee as he hit your burning ass.

"You flirted with him," Paul mumbled through his teeth, sending another smack to your ass, and you jolted forward on the bed. You had lost count of how many spanks he has given you, and there was no stopping him now. “In front of me. In front of the whole court! Make me look like a fool…”

“You didn’t look like a fool,” you told him earnestly. “I didn’t even flirt with him! I complimented his jacket!”

Another smack, and your fingers closed tight in the bedsheets. As much as each spank hurt, there was a latent arousal hanging in your belly, and you rubbed your thighs together.

Nothing got past your husband, though, and his next spank was right over your pussy. The pain burned worse and you yelped, and Paul chuckled darkly. “Do you like this?” he asked. “Do you like when I punish you like a whore? What a little vixen I’ve got.”

“Yes,” you gasped. “Oh, God, I love it. Will you—“

“I know you’re not about to ask me to fuck you,” Paul said. You turned to look at him, wig gone, jacket unbuttoned, silken trousers pulled tight at his hardening cock. He was enjoying this just as much as you were. “Not after you’ve been a slut and flirted with another man. I mean, darling, I was right there, you could have tried to be subtle.” His darling usually felt so full of love, but now it felt full of venom, and it made your cunt quiver again.

“Please?” you asked. “I promise I’ll be good, I won’t even look at any other men after this. Please, Tsarevich, please fuck me.”

Paul growled, actually growled, and his hands went to his trousers, undoing the buttons hastily. “You know damn well how much I love when you call me that,” he said. “You are impossible to say no to, little wife. Insatiable, always need to be filled by my fat cock.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you nodded quickly, opening your legs as best as you could in your position. “Always need to be filled, please, husband—“

“Shut up,” Paul snapped, pulling his cock from his pants. “If you even so much as make eye contact with Potemkin again after this, your punishment will be worse than a few lashes and getting fucked, you better believe me.”

#bex answers #anon ask #bex’s drabbles #prince paul #prince paul x reader #joseph quinn #catherine the great

[punk-in-docs]

“if you want to come you better beg” x prince paul cause i need this filth 😩👀

🥀Qualities of Mercy🥀

Prince Paul x Tsarevna // smut drabble - Bugger me sideways @usedtobecooler only the best for you babes crème de la crème - Prince Prick and some bratty behaviour culminating in angry!hate!fucking coming up. Also short? I don’t think I can write short drabble a about this man. I’m having a lot of feelings ok.

Some babes I know may want to see this @indouloureux @munsonswhore86 @heyndrix @lunatictardis @creme-bruhlee @callmeloverr @roanniom

It’s an odd relief to see the signs of war increase with each gained mile, burnt out patches of land and artillery tracks wedged into the mud. Foul air, fire, and rifle smoke; it means you’re closing in on your goal.

It means you’re that much closer to your husband.

Foul boggy mud, and nipping winds that cut to bone. You’re rumbling your way along treacherous roads, ever closer.

The terrain is dismal. There’s not even any sweetly soft birdsong chirping from the trees. There’s no kind nature. There’s only war and man, and guttural cries of the wounded. A landscape drizzled with slanted misty rain. Stubby felled larch trees and splintered bark.

The soldiers encamped, look like misshapen beasts. Blood crusted black, and the wounded wearing filthy yellowed bandages. Eyes missing, limbs turned to stumps. Squatting and huddling in clumps in the woods. Shivering under canvas with pithy licks of orange campfires staining the air with spicy woodsmoke.

They watch the carriage pass with rapt fascination. But too cold to react.

You weren’t expected.

That fact is writ plain as day all over the face of the dirt smeared soldier who trudged up to the carriage window. The soldier on watch. Who’d been pissing up against as tree when you rolled up.

His eyebrows buoy in surprise as you drop your fur lined hood.

“My Lady-“ He rasped in surprise.

“Tsarevna.” Your second maid, Maricel, leaned forward and snipped. Voice like a barking hound. Just as dogged.

She was eternally bolshy and hard edged. Hated you not being given the proper due politesse as deserving of your rank. She took great offence to those who didn’t understand the severity of your position.

“I’m here to see my husband. Kindly take me to him.”

“I’m not sure he’ll want- he’s occupied with many important matters.“ He fumbles for an excuse.

Maricel’s words come locked in impatience.

“Are you suggesting the Tsarevna of Russia is unimportant?” She tests.

“No- I.”

“He will carve out the time for his wife, you dumb prick.” She points out. Rubbing her shivering hands.

“Now, now.” You scold her.

She merely rolls her eyes. Not frightened by you whatsoever. Just pissy cause she’s cold.

The solider shuffles on his feet. Breaks eye contact. “I’m not sure I have the authority to-“

“Are you going to make me repeat myself.” You warn. Ire threaded into every word.

You stare him down with slicing diamond eyes. Tips sharpened and designed to cut.

A look you’ve thieved and mastered from Catherine’s own brand of venom. Don’t budge an inch.

It’s enough to get him to snap his mouth shut.

“No. Uh. Of course. This way, Tsarevna.”

You clambered out that boxy royal carriage. Door encrusted in a golden crest. Dainty sky blue heel sinking into earth. Hem sodden and dragged with it in no time. Maricel follows you dutifully. Your guard dog.

“Cunt.” Maricel bites out at the solider as she shuffled after you. Trudging into the muck.

“Put your forked tongue away.” You suggest.

She moodily deigns to do as you say.

You fold your gloved hands. Pretty pearl buttons march along your wrists now seeming contemptuous among all this. You rub at them to spark up some warmth in your numb fingers, as you looked around for the cluster of carmine coated generals.

Slipping and staining your skirts with slodgy mud as you followed the dismal soldier who’d take you to him. Your heels slip up, your feet get bogged. The stench of this place is curdling your lungs. Burnt larch trees and smoke and decay.

You press on. Determined.

The men swim their their groggy eyes to you. This place is used to viscera and gummy black blood, and mud crusted ash.

By comparison you look like a chunk of pure silken teal sky, fallen to earth. Precious and spotless. A drop of stunning sapphire wedged into all this dirt and death.

You squelch your way through tents and surgeon tents where men lay gouged and exposed. Rotting alive and shivering under the canvas as they cried out to the chowder thick sky. Rain melting on their eyelashes.

The smoke cleared past you, drifting. And then your overly elegant shape comes moulded out the congealing blood and smog of his hell. Pearl buttons, satin, and floral petal perfume. A wrenching juxtaposition coinciding.

You see your husband. Through the cloth mouth of one of the larger tents. No mistaking those puddle eyes for anyone else. The white scratchy wig. The cut of his powder blue coat and red royal medals slashing blood.

He’s gathered with men around a map table staked out with battle plans. This fare is all simplicity. Battle for blood and the vicinity of conquering men.

This is a land shuttered to the gaze of your sex. Your kind do not come roaming here. Not noble women anyway. The generals of mild importance probably had their favourite whores fetched in, however.

You stand and his eyes travel at last to yours. You smile lightly.

His expression altered into bitterness. Eyes lost their walnut warmth. Jaw clenched. Mood spiked sour.

He told you distinctly not to fucking come.

Yet here you stand.

You meet his burnt umber gaze and the sparky fire flecked there, scalds you.

“Tsarevich.” You greet him. Breath whipped to silver. You’re standing in the misty rain.

Waiting to see what comes spat back.

The generals clustering him, all bow in confusion and politely bob their unkempt wigged heads.

Not Paul.

His jaw clenched. Expression stiff. Posture as rigid as a Siberian Larch.

You’re fucking in for it now.

~

You batted at the sopping stretch of canvas. Hurling it out the way. Rain crashes down into your sprouting feathered hat and onto your shoulders.

Every squelch of your step into the oozing mud came sharp. Striking as a gut punch.

He’s following, hot on your heels, and you want to turn around and swing a punch into the angelic cherubim face you’d missed all these lonely long eight months.

His anger set off your own. Silky black gunpowder meeting roaring flame.

He’s livid.

You stand in his quarters. His tent is this huge beast of a thing. Clean and comfortable. A room with a table and maps and trunks takes up one. Green and gold tapestries make the walls slightly more habitable. More sophisticated. A cut above the desolate forest and the miseries of the wounded.

An emerald velvet curtain shields off the area where his ornate downy bed must be. He was still a Prince after all. He’ll be among his men. But he’s not sleeping in a frozen bedroll in the muck like an animal.

He storms into this space behind you and slaps the canvas closed. Words snapping out his mouth, that flimsy tent walls and steadily dripping rain will not conceal.

“This is not a place for you. You’re not supposed to be here.”

You don’t twist back to him as you angrily shed your gloves. Ripping them off like it was your own skin.

“Heaven forfend. I travel for two days in an uncomfortable carriage in the fucking driving rain to come see my husband and this is the thanks I get?”

“I told you not to come!” His words stamp out his mouth. He stabs a finger in the air. Aiming it as you.

“A lovely welcome.” You stab back.

He’s toe to toe with you. Muddy boots. Those chocolate eyes are all bitter. Not skated in love. Cold as all this terrible mud you’re bogged into.

“I don’t need you here. I have enough to deal with on my plate as it is fighting these Turks. I don’t need my wife by my side whilst I’m engaged in matters of battle.”

You steel your wilful jaw and bathe in the burnt brown shadow of his scowl.

“I am your wife. I have been left rotting at court. In misery now you’re gone. I decided to come and see you. To be here, by your side. In sickness and in health and even in battle. I don’t consider that as an action that deserves censure.”

“Yes it fucking is. I don’t need you here.” He shouts.

The burn of tears stings at your chest. Rips at your eyes. The man you’ve missed and ached after for months now and this is his choice of words levelled at you. It’s cutting.

“Lovely.” You bite out. “Well then. I won’t waste my time loitering around for you to yell at me.” You grip your gloves and turn back to him.

“Fuck you, Paul. Good day. Go back to your warring, and muddy filth.” You finish acidly. Your throat is full of clotting fire. Your rage. In situ with your wounded pride.

You shove at his coated chest, dull gold buttons. Go to move past him. Wipe your boots on his fine rug floors on the way out.

Your ruined shoes stick on the spot. He’s banded a hand around your wrist. It tugs. Burns skin.

“Let go.” You seethe. Pull your arm. You don’t look at him. Jaw grit.

He does not.

You wrench again. It brings you closer to him. You snarl. He stills your arm.

You do meet his gaze. The glint of fire - raked embers - returns to his eyes.

“No.” He decided.

Oh, now he’s in for it.

Anger spumes out of you like raining cursed hellfire. He should be terrified. You are mighty. Goddess of war backed with wrath. Angrier than Ares. These men should cower under your golden gaze. Desolation writ into you so heavily they should run for the hills.

“Thought you didn’t need me? Why would the mighty Tsarevich need his dumb bitch of a wife at his side? Run out of good whores have you?”

It was too late for niceties.

“Just be quiet.” He snaps.

Stepping very close. Close enough to touch only he doesn’t. His eyes move to your mouth. His hand seeks for your waist. Reels you in.

You don’t want too. But you clam up. You want to rear back and swing your fist to strike him. Preferably with a knife.

“I have never known a woman as disobedient. Nor as wilfully stubborn as you are. It’s infuriating.” He snipes.

His breath warms your mouth. He smells like his woody spice soap and bitter brush of smoke, and sweat. Still Paul. Underneath all things.

“Good.” You snarl with a nod. “I’m glad to have been such an inconvenience.”

“Constant dagger in my side.”

“Fuck you.” You announce passionately.

“I have had enough of your inability to listen to my orders.” He comments.

“Tough shit.” You snark.

“Elegant verbiage.” He insults.

His gaze is swimming into something steel black and lethal. You hate how much you like looking at him like this. It almost makes him look intimidating and handsome.

At this point, you’re half desire, half pure lightning hot rage.

“Get back to me when I don’t want to stick a knife in your thigh. Maybe my vocabulary will improve.” You hiss.

You’re so locked and entwined with this man. Tug his strings and it’s sure enough to jerk some distant part of you, merely by extension.

“Are you wet right now?” He asks. Head tilting His lashes shutter his eyes as he scans you. From the dirt crusted hem, sweeping upwards.

Your mouth is dry as tumbling scorched sands. Clench your teeth to dust. Heart ramming your tonsils.

He spies that twitch in your face. “Am I to take that as a yes, Tsarevna?”

If looks could kill.

“I’m going to fuck you. I know how plaint and weak it makes you when I work that delicious cunt open with my cock.” He steps you back. Hands tugged in your dress. Leading.

“I will fuck every disobedient word and thought out that head. Wife.” He sneers.

He pushes you to one of the wooden columns. Shunts a breath out of you. Hands digging through your skirts. Searching for your pussy.

You rake your nails into the nape of his neck. Hope it stings. Pray it brings blood.

“Be careful what you wish for.” You warn.

He smiles.

~

He’s fucking you not two minutes later.

Naturally, it didn’t take him long. You succumbed way too easy. Melted like butter, really.

He’s slithered to the gaps in your armour and snuck beneath with all the cunning adroitness of a serpent. You detest it.

He doesn’t give you what you need. Of course not. He doesn’t make this easy. His actions are all dipped in mocking taunt and brat.

He splayed you open, and rubs the fat leaking head of his cock against your trembling pussy. Eight months of nothing your your own fingers and he’s making you sit and beg like a trained lapdog.

Slapping it to your clit and smiling when you lurch. Unwilling to feed the head into you just yet.

It’s fucking agony.

You’re ready to slit his throat by the time he rewards you with sinking to the hilt in one ramming surge of his hips. The anger dissipates - a little.

You soothe the rest of it by leaning up and gnashing your teeth into his neck. Clamp down hard- force him to fuck you harder.

He cursed when sliding into you. Mumbled wisely about how conflict always made you so juicy wet for him. He pulled back and taunted you with your own greediness for his cock. The shine of your arousal coating him all glossy. A pretty sight, that.

“Hear how wet you are my love?” He lurches and slams you. A sharp stroke that wracked every vertebrae of your spine.

The sounds that come keening from you make your eyes flick back into your head. Enough to make him more smug.

“Utterly filthy. Soaking.” He huffs in gasps. “Making wet patches on my bed like a damn harlot.”

“Can’t believe you. Hmm- fucking brat. Yelling at me for coming here.” You manage to gasp. Cheeks blistering hot with this anger spurned arousal. Nails clawed into the carved headboard.

A hiccup snags the back of your throat as he knees closer.

Pushes your legs almost crushed up to your tits. Your stays almost strangling you. You cry loud because of this new angle. Makes him punch a spot inside that almost aches.

“I think this cunt is more pleased to see me than you are.” He smirks. Hands with dirty nails digging into your thighs. Ten half moons socketed into your quivering flesh.

“Fucking hell.” Spews out your mouth. Unguarded. He’s severing every strong steel thread of your resolve.

“I’ll take that as yes.” He says. Hair falls choppy in front of his wild eyes. Tiger eyes. Frightful fierce. Hands clamped to your thighs. He spreads you and sits up to stuff himself deeper. Harder. Faster.

The noises he’s getting out of you are just growing and growing. Rising in pitch and volume. So much so you’re swirling your hips to him to get feedback off that friction. That burgeoning pleasure begins to slice mean into your belly.

“How you moan for me when I give you my cock. Never gets old.” He grins.

“Never too late to punish my disobedient-“ he huffs and fucks hard inbetween his words. “Petulant. Stubborn. Wife.” He insists with a playful leer.

He can tell by the wails how close you are. Enough to taste it now. That eye rolling pressure ready to snap.

His cock stretched you just right. Stabbed into the gaping cup of your womb. You’re so treacherously close to that blissful peak you go rigid trying to chase it down and let the sensation ruin you.

It was mind meltingly good. Close and looming closer. Heat wrapping your limbs and warping your mind to bend to him. Every atom of you trained for this pleasure to come-

He yanks his cock out of you so fast, you want to shriek.

That coal hot glow of orgasm withers and curls to ash. He’s back to slipping his fat head around your cit again. Smearing your cunt in a sticky taste he’ll find and devour later.

“You fucking-“ you glare up at him all blissed and edged. Cunt clenching on nothing but air. He smooths both his thumbs over your pretty and dripping pussy lips. Making you throb.

“If you want to cum, you better beg.” He insists.

“I could kill you.” You seethe. Words dressed in a growl.

He tilts his head. Teasing. “Yes?”

You yelp when his cock slams into you once more. Puff for breath. God fucking dammit.

“How about now?” He checks as he folds you in half, yet again. Cock rooted deep.

The start of a long night, to be sure.

-

Hours later, darkness wraps you up. Comforting tenebrous blanket. Candles are lit. Dozy gold and matte dark pours into the tent.

He has you food brought in as an apology.

Someone ducks in the tent with a tray of it. He pulls on his boots to go fetch it. Leaves you boneless on his goose feather plumped bed.

There’s a bottle of wine with dinner too. Not the best but you’re not complaining. Dry hard biscuits and a salty wedge of goats cheese was your lot in the carriage ride here.

There’s a thick milky porridge with creamy oats and nutmeg and warming spices. A slab of pink roasted meat glistening with fat and golden globs of plain boiled potatoes barely salted. Sided with some hunk of brown hardy bread smeared in greasy butter.

This food is hot and warm and fills your belly well. He feeds it to you.

It’s how he soothes. But it’s not the only way he wants to offer you comfort.

He gets naked and climbs under the covers. Always bathed you in limitless comforts and luxuries after a rough fuck. The calm sweetness after a raging storm of passion and stinging claws and slamming hate. When the blood has dried to rust, along with the nasty words.

He slips between your legs under the sheets to tongue at your cunt like it’s a juicy honeycomb treat that drips honey.

It’s dripping him.

He eats it out of you. You sigh all dreamy and elongate your neck back to pillows that smell like his shaving soap, to moan his name.

Slipping your nails over the short brown thorns of hair. Rake over his scalp.

You gasp his name and you know the soldiers will have heard the sound sneak out the tent flaps. You don’t care.

His tongue slithers and laps through your puffy sex. Fully nursing your clit with the curl of his tongue. Brushes through the tactile scratch of your curls there. He loves burying his nose in them.

When he’s done he slinks up from under his furs and sheets. Wiping his mouth in the back of his hand. Still a little bit of both of you combined is smeared wetly across one cheek.

It catches in the flickering murky light. Candles are spinning red gold in the dim. Rain is a steady pat on the tent roof.

You look down at him. His gaze is all warmth and tenderness again. A knowing smile slopes the corner of his mouth.

“Did you really travel all this way just so I could fuck you?” He asks all smug.

You smirk. “Got what I wanted, now didn’t I.” You dismiss archly.

But you both know it seats a little deeper than that. There’s definite skin both of you have sunk into this game. It might even be the gummy beating walls of your hearts involved.

“You do know you’re a walking fucking nightmare.” He tells you.

Slotting himself between your hips. Seeking to hold your hands as he rolls into you. Makes your cunt clench.

Your hand slips from stroking his hair, downwards. Vicing your cruel hand around his soft throat. His eyes blaze again.

“Don’t you dare fucking forget it.” You sneer.

He sends you home sore - five days after your arrival.

#punkwrites #prince paul fanfiction #prince paul catherine the great #prince paul imagine #prince paul fanfic #prince paul x you #prince paul smut #prince paul x oc #prince paul x reader #prince paul #i would die for this man #such a brat #he’s such a filthy ho #such a hottie #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn

[writing-fanics]

i will be taking prince Paul requests now

oh and I do take smut requests all though I can’t promise they’ll be any good

#joseph quinn is fine as hell #catherine the great #prince paul x reader #joe quinn x reader