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lizzyiii · 3 months ago

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His Mother's Sister

pairing | aemond x aunt!reader word count | 4.7k words summary | aemond becomes instantly captivated by his alluring and enigmatic aunt upon her arrival in King’s Landing, his fascination growing into a consuming obsession. one night, he sneaks into her chambers intending to claim her, only to find himself ensnared and wholly claimed by her instead. tags | 18+ MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, obsession, incest, oral (f), aemond being a simp, aemond being obsessed, older woman/younger man, reader is in her early 30s a/n | haven't written smut in a while, so here's my smut piece before I continue with my normal angst and fluff

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“I have summoned your sister to King’s Landing.”

Aemond’s attention sharpened, his gaze lingering on his mother’s face as Otto spoke. He watched as the blood seemed to drain from her cheeks, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the edge of the table.

“For what purpose?” Alicent’s voice held a strained note, attempting to maintain a composure that clearly wavered.

Aegon, lounging at the head of the table, raised his head, intrigued. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, eyes flicking between his mother and grandsire.

“Marq Ambrose commands one of the most powerful armies in the Reach,” Otto stated with an offhand shrug, his eyes giving nothing away.

“And he would serve us best by keeping that power in the Reach, where it may be summoned at need,” Alicent interjected, her tone unyielding, her eyes locked on Otto’s. There was no mistaking the tension in her voice, a chill that crept through the words.

Aemond’s brow furrowed slightly as he observed his mother. His aunt had always been something of a mystery—whispered about in brief conversations that faded when he entered the room. A few years after his birth, she had been wedded to Lord Ambrose of the Reach, her presence a vague shadow on his life, a name he had heard only in passing. And now, with her impending arrival, he sensed a thread of something forbidden—a story that remained carefully locked away, just out of reach.

Aegon chuckled, breaking the taut silence. “Let Lord Ambrose come, then, if he so wishes to make merry in our halls. He is but my uncle by marriage; surely, we ought to welcome such kin to the capital.” His gaze gleamed as he spoke, and his smile widened. “And I would be most pleased to meet my aunt, at last.”

But Aemond’s mind lingered elsewhere. His mother’s discomfort stirred his curiosity, yes—but something deeper, a whisper of anticipation he could scarcely name, took root.

A week had passed since that conversation, and now the family gathered in the throne room, awaiting Lord Ambrose’s arrival. Aegon sat with careless authority upon the Iron Throne, his gaze sharp with the amusement of expectation, while the rest of them stood beneath the shadow of the dais.

The heavy oak doors creaked open, and a knight’s voice rang out through the hall. “May I present Lord Marq Ambrose and his Lady Wife.”

A stocky figure stepped forward, his hair streaked with white and black, his girth almost comical in its fullness. Aemond cast but a cursory glance at the man, unimpressed by this swollen lord from the Reach, before his gaze shifted past him.

And then, Aemond stilled. His eye widened, his brows lifting as he fought to contain his reaction. His heart gave an unbidden jolt, nearly betraying him. If he had chanced a glance at Aegon, he would have seen his brother’s mouth agape, struck silent.

Beside Lord Ambrose stood his lady—a woman of such beauty that she seemed almost ethereal in her presence, like some creature of starlight veiled in fine silks. You could have been Lord Ambrose’s granddaughter, and yet here you were, his lawful wife. Aemond’s mind spun.

From what he understood, this aunt of his was five summers younger than his mother, yet you bore not a trace of age. Your beauty held a captivating allure, tempered with a regal composure that only added to your mystique. You appeared no older than five-and-twenty, though your presence held the calm authority of a queen.

"Lord and Lady Ambrose," Aegon declared with a broad grin as he rose from the Iron Throne and descended the dais, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Welcome."

Lord Ambrose, with a thick and lumbering step, inclined his head and spoke in a voice as stout as his frame. “We thank you for your welcome, Your Grace, and pledge our loyalty to the one true king.”

Aegon waved a dismissive hand, barely seeming to heed the man’s words. “Yes, yes, the crown is grateful for your loyalty and your… soldiers,” he said, his tone absent, as though the promise of men-at-arms meant little to him in the face of his aunt.

Then Aegon turned his attention to you, his expression shifting to one of eager charm. He stepped closer and took your hand, lifting it to his lips. "My aunt," he said, his voice thick with pleasure, “it is an honor to finally make your acquaintance.” He kissed your hand, his gaze lingering on you as he released it.

Your lips curled into a slight, knowing smile, your sharp eyes gleaming with a trace of amusement as though you found the entire display mildly amusing. “The honor is mine, my king,” you replied, your voice soft but rich, laced with an elegance and confidence that defied your role as the wife of a lesser lord.

Aemond, standing nearby, felt his pulse quicken at the sound of your voice. It was smooth, sultry, and held an unspoken promise, a warmth that washed over him and stirred something deep within. His gaze lingered on her, captivated, as if drawn to some unnameable force.

Otto cleared his throat, a subtle warning in his gaze as he stepped forward, sensing the direction of Aegon’s attentions. He inclined his head politely. “Lord Ambrose,” he greeted, then turned to the lady beside him, his tone softening. “Daughter.”

Aemond watched with surprise as she stepped away from Lord Ambrose without hesitation, her face alight with joy. “Father!” she exclaimed, her voice warm and bright. She crossed the floor with graceful steps, her skirts sweeping behind her as she embraced her father.

Otto’s usually stoic expression softened, his arms enveloping her with an affection rare to see from the Hand of the King. “How I’ve missed you,” he murmured.

Aemond, along with Aegon and Helaena, exchanged startled glances, astonished by the depth of feeling Otto revealed.

She broke away, casting a radiant smile at Otto before her gaze shifted, and she found Alicent. Aemond watched as his mother’s expression flickered, caught between awkwardness and reluctance, her shoulders tense. But his aunt moved toward her with the same confident warmth. “Sister,” she greeted, wrapping her arms around Alicent in a sincere embrace.

Alicent seemed to steel herself, managing a strained smile as she endured the hug. When they pulled apart, her expression remained stiff as she forced a cordial tone. “Sister,” she said carefully, “you look… as though no time has passed at all.”

The amusement in your eyes deepened, a subtle spark of mischief that curled your lips into a nearly smug smile. “And yet,” you replied, voice gentle but pointed, “it seems that time has left its mark on you."

The words were soft, yet they carried an edge that struck the air between them. Alicent’s face faltered, her polite mask slipping for an instant. Aemond watched the exchange, captivated by the intricate web of tensions and histories unfolding before him. He had thought his mother impervious, yet here she was, visibly discomforted under the gaze of her younger sister.

“Well,” Aegon’s voice broke in, strangely lively, “this calls for a celebration.” He clapped his hands, grinning widely. “A family supper, to welcome Lord… and Lady Ambrose to King’s Landing.” He glanced between his aunt and mother with a glint in his eye, as if relishing the simmering tension.

Aemond glanced toward his aunt, your eyes alight with a confidence that drew him in, entangled with memories he could only guess at. You seemed utterly unperturbed by the uneasy reception, holding yourself with an assurance that only deepened the fascination you stirred within him.

The supper was, in truth, a strained affair. Lord Ambrose quickly drank himself into a state of merriment, his voice growing louder with each goblet of wine he downed. He boasted endlessly of Ambrosia, their ancestral castle in the Reach, extolling the grandeur of its halls, the strength of its walls, and the might of his armies.

It was painfully clear that neither Aegon nor Otto paid him much heed; Aegon’s eyes glazed over with feigned interest, while Otto offered only the occasional nod, his mind elsewhere.

Aegon, however, deftly steered the conversation back to you at every opportunity. “But tell us, Aunt,” he said with a sly smile, “what tales do you bring from the Reach? Surely there are more interesting things than castle stones and soldiers.”

Across the table, Aemond found his brother’s persistent attempts at flirtation grating, yet he could not fault Aegon for giving you the attention. Your voice, like a song in his ear, drew him in each time you spoke, its smooth cadence addictive.

You spoke easily, your words painting scenes of courtly life in the Reach, of feasts and tournaments, your radiant smile outshining your husband’s drunken ramblings. Every eye at the table seemed drawn to you, but none with the quiet intensity of Aemond’s single, focused gaze.

He was captivated by the way you commanded the room, with a poise that cast Lord Ambrose’s bluster into the shadows. And when you looked his way, even for a fleeting moment, he felt as though the world quieted around him.

“And what of you and my mother in your younger days?” Aegon asked, a mischievous, drunken grin on his lips, his words slurring slightly as he leaned forward in his chair.

Alicent shot him a pointed look, her expression tightening as she cleared her throat. “Aegon,” she murmured, her voice gently chastising, “perhaps my sister would appreciate a moment to enjoy her meal.”

But you merely laughed, dismissing her concern with a wave of your hand. “Oh, it’s quite all right, Alicent,” you said warmly. Turning to Aegon, your eyes sparkled with a hint of nostalgia. “You see, in our younger years, your mother could barely stand to be near me.”

Alicent’s discomfort grew visible as she shifted in her seat, her voice soft but strained. “That is not true, sister.”

“Oh, but it is,” you replied with a soft, almost wistful laugh. “Not that I hold it against you, Alicent. I was terribly fond of her then; I looked up to her as one might look to a mother. But every time I tried to spend time with her, she would run off with Princess Rhaenyra, laughing at my expense.”

“Those were mere childish games,” Alicent interjected, her voice taut as she worked to maintain her composure.

“Indeed, they were,” you agreed with an unbothered smile. “Children can be so prone to envy and jealousy. You see,” your tone lightened, yet held a playful undertone as your eyes drifted back to Aegon, “I was often called the ‘Diamond of Oldtown,’ and perhaps such adoration left its mark on dear Alicent.”

The words were spoken with an air of casual jest, yet there was no mistaking the edge beneath them. Aemond watched as Alicent’s mask slipped, her cheeks flushing as she struggled to keep her voice steady. It was clear you were savoring Alicent’s discomfort, a faint glimmer of amusement lighting your eyes as they traveled slowly down the length of the table.

And then, your gaze found him.

“And what of you, dear nephew?” you inquired, your voice as smooth as wine poured in darkened halls. “I’ve heard many tales of you in the Reach.”

Aemond felt his heart thud within his chest, a warmth rising unbidden to his face as he fought to maintain his poise. “Tales of what, Aunt?” he asked, his voice low, striving for calm.

A smile curved upon your lips, one that was as inviting as it was knowing. “A great warrior, fierce and unmatched across the Seven Kingdoms. The rider of Vhagar, queen of all dragons,” you murmured, your words laced with a hint of admiration.

“That’s all, my lady,” Aemond replied softly, his gaze never wavering from yours.

And in return, you tilted your head ever so slightly, an amused glint in your eyes as though you were looking beyond the surface, into the very marrow of him. It was a gaze both alluring and unsettling, one that sent a shiver down his spine.

Before you could speak again, however, your husband’s voice cut through the charged silence. His tone was slurred and irritated, clearly displeased by the lack of attention on him as he clumsily launched into yet another tale of his supposed valor. Aemond noted how you sighed softly, a look of resignation crossing your features as you turned your gaze away from him.

But then, as though unable to resist, your eyes drifted back to Aemond. You held his gaze for a heartbeat longer than propriety allowed and, with a barely concealed smirk, you winked.

Aemond’s heart skipped a beat, his lone eye widening ever so slightly as he blinked, wondering if he had imagined it. He looked back, only to find you now watching your husband with a look of faint distaste, a grimace twisting your otherwise perfect features. It was a small, subtle gesture, but one that spoke volumes, and Aemond felt a surge of something dark and possessive stirring within him.

In that moment, he realized that this supper was not simply an introduction; it was an invitation, a challenge, and a temptation all at once.

These thoughts lingered long after, spiraling in his mind with an intensity he couldn’t quiet. Later, as he passed through the halls, he overheard a quiet murmur from a maid: Lord and Lady Ambrose had chosen to sleep in separate chambers. Aemond’s pulse quickened.

The knowledge seemed a silent invitation, a doorway left just ajar. He recalled the way you had spoken to him, your voice holding layers meant only for him. The look in your eyes—hungry, as though you sought to devour his very soul—left him craving to be consumed by that gaze again. No, this was not his imagination. He was certain of it.

And it was this certainty that drove him through the darkened halls of the Red Keep, slipping past drowsy guards, cloaked in shadow, his steps muffled by the silence of the sleeping castle.

When he reached your door, he eased it open, careful to make no sound, and stepped inside with the stealth of a shadow. Yet he halted at once, caught off guard by the sight that greeted him.

There you sat, reclining on a velvet chaise, a goblet of deep red wine in hand, eyes cast down at a leather-bound book resting in your lap. The faint candlelight painted your skin in warm gold, and your attire—a red nightgown, translucent and clinging to every curve—left little hidden, casting a spell of allure around you.

Aemond’s throat tightened as he took in the sight, the image searing itself into his mind. But the quiet gulp betrayed him, and your gaze lifted, pinning him where he stood.

“Your Highness,” you murmured, your voice laced with a seductive warmth. “What a surprise.” The knowing smile on your lips told him this was no surprise at all.

Feeling the weight of your gaze, he steeled himself, adopting the guise of confidence. “I could not find sleep, my lady,” he replied, his voice steady. “And it would appear you are in the same predicament.”

You set down your goblet and closed the book in your lap, your every movement deliberate. Rising from your seat, you let the robe slide from your shoulders, the fabric pooling at your feet. “You know,” you murmured, teasingly, “it is most improper for a man to visit a married woman at such an hour.”

Aemond took a step closer, his gaze never leaving you. “But you are my aunt—my family.”

A small, knowing laugh escaped your lips as you slipped past him, your arm brushing his, a soft touch that sent a jolt through him. He closed his eye briefly, savoring the warmth, and when he opened it again, you had moved toward the bed, your smile one of invitation.

“The Targaryens are known for their peculiar customs when it comes to family.” You glanced back at him with an amused, daring gleam in your eye. “Tell me, what is it that you desire?”

He took another step forward, drawn like a moth to flame. “I think you know what I desire.”

“And if I were to say yes,” you purred, sitting upon the edge of the bed, “what would you do?”

He moved closer, his voice low with reverence. “I would do whatever you asked of me.”

Your lips curled, eyes glinting with a barely concealed command. “Then kneel for me,” you whispered.

For a brief moment, his brow furrowed, but any hesitation vanished. He lowered himself to his knees before you, his head tilted upward, gaze reverent. “As you wish, my lady.”

You studied him, a look of satisfaction crossing your face as you gathered your skirts, parting your legs with a languid grace. Tilting your chin, you gave a single, soft nod. “Then go on, my sweet prince,” you murmured, your voice a quiet command, heavy with promise.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to your inner thigh. His hands came to rest on your hips as he began to place soft kisses along your skin, working his way higher.

When he finally reached the apex of your thighs, he paused, looking up at you, his eye hooded.

"Are you certain about this, Aunt?" Despite his words, his body language betrayed his eagerness - his breathing quickened and his fingers tightened their grip on your hips ever so slightly.

You let out a soft moan as he kissed your thighs, your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on, "Yes I am certain, now continue before I change my mind."

With a low growl, he surged forward, burying his face between your thighs. He wasted no time in finding your sensitive bud with his tongue, flicking and circling it expertly.

One hand slid up to cup your breast through your thin nightgown, kneading the soft flesh as he continued his ministrations below. He alternated between long, slow licks and quick flicks of his tongue, gauging your reactions to find what felt best.

The other hand gripped your hip more firmly, holding you in place as he devoured you like a starving man at a feast. Wet sounds filled the room as he worked tirelessly to bring you pleasure, lost in the taste and scent of your arousal. Your back arched as he licked your cunt, a loud moan escaped your lips, "Oh gods, yes."

Your fingers tightened in his hair, as you bucked your hips against his face, seeking more of his skilled touch, "Yes, feast on me."

Spurred on by your moans and the encouragement in your voice, Aemond redoubled his efforts. He sealed his lips around your bud and sucked hard, his tongue lashing over the sensitive nub in rapid circles.

Two fingers slid deep inside your slick heat, curling to stroke along your inner walls as they thrusted in and out. The obscene wet sounds of his fingers pumping into your dripping core mingled with your increasingly desperate cries of pleasure.

Aemond could feel you tensing and shuddering beneath his touch, teetering on the brink of release. He doubled down, sucking harder and fucking you faster with his fingers, determined to push you over the edge into blissful oblivion.

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, screaming out in ecstasy as your body shook violently, juices gushing out and soaking his face, "Oh fuck! Aemond!"

You clutched at his head, grinding your cunt against his mouth as you rode out the waves of pleasure, your skin glistening with sweat, "Don't you dare stop until I tell you to!"

Feeling your body quake and spasm around his invading fingers, Aemond drank in every drop of your sweet release, lapping at your pulsing sex greedily. He prolonged your climax with relentless strokes of his tongue, coaxing out every last tremor of pleasure.

Only when your spasms subsided does he finally pull back, his chin dripping with your essence. He gazed up at you with a triumphant, almost feral glint in his eye, his own arousal straining against the confines of his breeches, "Have I pleased you, Aunt?"

"Yes, yes you have," you said breathlessly.

Without a word, he rose to his feet and began to strip off his clothes, revealing a lean, muscular physique honed by years of training. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed with blood, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

"You have such a pretty cock, nephew," you said, taking in the sight of him, as your hand reached out for his cock.

Aemond's breath hitched as your hand wrapped around his throbbing length, his hips instinctively bucking into the touch. He watched, transfixed, as your fingers traced the ridged veins and delicate skin, marveling at how small yet firm your hand looked compared to his engorged member.

"It's yours," he rasped, his voice strained with need. "Do whatever you want with it."

He stepped closer, pressing the heavy weight of his erection against your palm, the heat of his skin seeping into your touch. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a hungry kiss, his tongue delving deep to tangle with yours as he grinded against you.

You broke the kiss, panting heavily, as you pulled him onto the bed. Then you straddled him, rubbing your dripping cunt along his cock, coating it with your juices, "I've never ridden a dragon before. Tell me, do you want me to claim you?"

Aemond's single eye blazed with lust and something deeper, darker, as he gazed up at you poised above him. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, the muscles flexing beneath his pale skin.

"Yes, Aunt," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Claim me. Make me yours."

His hands came up to grasp your hips, guiding you to position yourself over his straining cock. His head nudged at your entrance, smearing your slickness across it.

"Do it," he urged, his gaze intense and unblinking. "Take me deep."

So slowly you sank down onto his cock, letting out a loud moan as you stretched around his girth. You took him inch by delicious inch until you were fully seated on him, "Fuck, your cock was made for my cunt."

Aemond threw his head back with a guttural groan as you sheathed him completely, your tight heat enveloping his throbbing length. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at the tender skin as he reveled in the feeling of being utterly filled in you.

"So tight," he panted against your throat.

His hands squeezed your hips, holding you steady as he began to thrust up into you, meeting each downward plunge of your own hips. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound mingling with your mingled moans of pleasure. And feeling a tinge of frustration, his hands met the top of your nightgown as he pulled hard, ripping it in half completely, making you gasp.

You rode him hard and fast, your breasts bouncing with each powerful thrust. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, mixed with your high pitched moans, "Yes, yes, fuck me harder Aemond!"

Aemond leaned forward, sucking on your breast as if he was a babe desperately seeking milk. He suckled greedily at your breast, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak as he drew the sensitive flesh into his mouth. His hands roamed your curves possessively, one sliding down to grip your ass while the other tweaked and tugged at your neglected nipple.

He met your wild riding with equal fervor, pistoning his hips up to meet your downward thrusts. The force of his movements drove you upward, impaling you again and again on his thick cock. Your cries of ecstasy spurred him on, his own groans of pleasure growing louder and more desperate.

Suddenly, he flipped you over onto your back, looming over you with a predatory gleam in his eye. He pinned your wrists above your head, holding you captive as he pounded into you with renewed vigor, the new angle allowing him to penetrate even deeper.

You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, locking him in place as you grinded your hips upwards to match his frenzied pace. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you clung to him, urging him on, "Fuck! Right there!"

Aemond let go of your wrists, leaning down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss as he continued to ravage your cunt. He swallowed all your screams and moans, relishing in the taste and feel of you.

"Cum in me aemond! Fill me with your seed!" You screamed into his mouth as another orgasm ripped through you.

The sensation of your inner walls clenching and rippling around him sent Aemond careening over the edge. With a hoarse shout, he buried himself to the hilt and erupted, his hot seed flooding your womb in powerful jets.

"Ahh, gods," he gasped, his body shuddering with the intensity of his climax. He continued to pulse and twitch within you, ensuring every drop is deposited deep inside your welcoming heat.

As the aftershocks subsided, Aemond collapsed onto you, his weight a comforting press against your satiated form. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his breath coming in ragged pants as he struggled to regain his composure.

"That was...incredible," he murmured, his voice low and husky with satisfaction. “You are truly remarkable.”

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, reveling in the warmth of his body against yours as you both sought to catch your breath. A delicate shiver coursed through you, remnants of your shared ecstasy still fluttering within.

“There, there,” you purred softly, running your fingers through his silken hair, enjoying the feel of his softness against your skin. Aemond lay on your chest, his face buried in the crook of your neck, the intoxicating scent of you mingling with the fading heat of your shared intimacy.

Once Aemond had calmed his breathing, he lifted his head to meet your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue dancing with yours in a fervent exploration, igniting a spark that flickered between you. His hand traveled down your body, the warmth of his touch setting your skin alight.

When his hand paused on your stomach, he broke the kiss, a frown creasing his brow as curiosity flickered in his violet eye. It was well known that you had been wed to Lord Ambrose for fifteen years without bearing a child. Whispers of your barrenness had circulated through the halls of the Red Keep, and Aemond could not suppress the question that hung in the air between you.

"Is it true you are barren?" he asked, his tone laced with concern.

You regarded him with a playful smirk, the corners of your lips lifting. “No,” you murmured softly, your fingers gently caressing his long silver hair.

There was amusement in your voice, and as you laughed lightly, the sound was like music in the dimly lit chamber. “Do you truly think I had ever wished to be filled with a child by that fat cunt?”

Aemond’s single violet eye widened in surprise at your boldness. You continued, your tone shifting to one of quiet confidence. “Each time I’ve lain with him, I’ve taken moon tea the morning after.”

You leaned closer, your hand reaching out to caress his cheek with a gentle, deliberate stroke. Your fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, igniting a spark that sent a wave of absolute pleasure down Aemond's spine. “Yet I don’t think I’d mind bearing your child.”

The very thought of your bearing his child sent shivers of exhilaration coursing through him. The idea that at this very moment, his seed might have taken root within you filled him with a sense of possessiveness that was both intoxicating and primal. In that instant, it became clear: you were his, and he was yours, bound together by an unspoken promise.

Aemond’s mind raced with possibilities. He would need to find a way to rid you of Lord Ambrose, but that task seemed deceptively simple in the face of what awaited him. Once the obstacle was removed, he would claim you as his wife, securing a future that felt destined.

You were made for him, and in his heart, he knew you had been waiting all this time—patiently, silently—for him to come to you.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!

#aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #hotd #aemond x you #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine

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astonmartinii · 3 months ago

Text

i will always love you | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem bodyguard reader

what he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with his bodyguard? this IS a rom com

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

f1insider

liked by user1, user2 and 45.925 others

f1insider: red bull have confirmed that max verstappen will have a bodyguard for the rest of this season after increasingly aggressive fan activity towards drivers at races. what do you think about it?

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user3: i completely understand that it’s insane that it’s gotten to the point where he needs a bodyguard …. but like JEALOUS

user4: i pray there’s never any need for her to do her actual job

user5: f1 need to sort it out i agree

user4: i meant because i would be no better than a man im sorry god but i want to watch her fight someone 😫

user6: this should’ve been done so long ago but i’m glad they’ve finally made the step

user7: what i find crazy is that people can afford a paddock pass and wanna fight the drivers ??? what a waste of money GIVE THEM TO ME

user8: i’m being completely serious when i say … any punk ass influencer tries to film max in the bathroom i want this bodyguard to shoot them with a gun

user9: no i agree

user10: and when i do it on purpose so she can beat the shit out of me ??

user11: choke

user12: she look familiar to any of you?

user13: i thought i had seen her before but like i just can’t quite recall

user14: swiftie here! she was taylor’s bodyguard for a couple years so you probably have seen her in paparazzi photos or something

user15: taylor swift and now max verstappen i need her agent

user16: the thought of that massive hunk of a man cowering behind her is killing me

user17: it’s killing you? it’s getting me excited this is so romance book coded

user18: you people’s obsession with putting people in “relationship” is the worst thing to happen to the sport

user19: i agree! (they would be unbelievably cute)

user20: i’m glad to see we’re all being very serious about the state of the sport where a driver needs a bodyguard and not the fact that said bodyguard is visually appealing

user21: sky i will deal with your bias if you give us the visual on her

user20: jesus wept

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 120,399 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: new job, same friendship bracelets

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user22: WE FOUND YOU

user23: hi mother !!!!

user24: we miss you serving face with taylor :(

maxverstappen1: you were a bodyguard for TAYLOR SWIFT ???

yourusername: you didn't read my CV? you had the last say on me being hired?

maxverstappen1: i let GP read them and he's never steered me wrong before

yourusername: that seems irresponsible

maxverstappen1: ANYWAY my point was going to be ... can we still get eras tour tickets?

yourusername: i can see what i can do

maxverstappen1: what if you just called taylor up?

yourusername: do NOT reference the kardashians if you want tickets

maxverstappen1: noted :3

user25: i can't have anything in this life ??? what do you mean you've worked with taylor and max?

user26: she looks so hot with a gun i'm starting to think the NRA are on to something

yourusername: absolutely not get out of here with that shit

user27: oh she educated as well? will you accept my hand in marriage?

maxverstappen1: 🤨

landonorris: and if i said you could guard me all night

yourusername: it's kinda my job to guard max all night

landonorris: but you'd rather guard me 😉

yourusername: i doubt you'd pay me as well as max

landonorris: i can pay you other ways 😉

maxverstappen1: lando i will break your fingers one by one

user28: max is out here like SHE IS MY BODYGUARD

user29: him being possessive... idk where to look but both of them - mark me scared AND horny

user30: TOO REAL

maxverstappen1

liked by schecoperez, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,452,099 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: simply lovely to be back on the top step in brazil, @yourusername you're clearly my lucky charm

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user31: max does a generational drive and immediately gets on instagram to flirt with his bodyguard

user32: he's so real for that because look at y/n

user33: i once thought swifties were crazy for being so obsessed with her but now i am just as bad lol

yourusername: nuh uh that drive was all you big boy

maxverstappen1: heheheehehe

maxverstappen1: did i make a good first impression?

yourusername: a very good first impression ;)

maxverstappen1: are you proud of me?

yourusername: very proud maxy

maxverstappen1: :3 thank you <3

user34: what in praise kink did i just read?

user35: i know he's done it in a very public forum but just leave them to do whatever they gotta do

user36: i know this man saw her in a suit and with a gun and fell to his knees

yourusername: well... close enough!

landonorris: idc about all of that ^^ i'm still going to shoot my shot

yourusername: is me rejecting you luck or talent?

landonorris: HUH ?????

yourusername: i may just be a bodyguard but i still have working ears 👍

user37: okay so she does serve more than just looks ...

user38: she's got a fan in me now

charles_leclerc: let me just sit back and observe

yourusername: you good?

charles_leclerc: i am sitting back and observing

yourusername: you are observing very loudly

charles_leclerc: i am just watching max embarrass himself, this is very healing for my younger self

maxverstappen1: RUDE

yourusername: he's not embarrassing himself if it's working?

redbullracing

liked by maxverstappen1, schecoperez and 2,451,045 others

redbullracing: statement regarding today's incident.

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user42: sorry red bull but i want that video tattooed on my eye balls

user43: i am so unbelievably hot and bothered after seeing that video

user44: red bull i'm afraid you'll have to take that video out of my cold dead hands

landonorris: i didn't realise the paddock came with dinner and a show today

oscarpiastri: lando they tried to kill max...

landonorris: well he was never in any actual danger with y/n around

oscarpiastri: do you ever read the PR briefs?

landonorris: PR whats?

oscarpiastri: this is starting to make a whole lot of sense

user45: they'll try to cancel lando for this but like he's being real

user46: no because why was george russell and kimi antonelli literally in the back of the footage eating LITERAL POPCORN

user47: i've never wanted to be two people so bad

maxverstappen1: i lived bitch

yourusername: MAX????

maxverstappen1: because of you, i'm forever in debt to you <3

yourusername: just doing my job :)

maxverstappen1: so you didn't just do it because of your undying love for me :(

yourusername: i think that would be inappropriate

maxverstappen1: THAT'S NOT FAIR, THEY CAN'T TRY AND KILL ME AND YOU CAN'T SAY YOU HATE ME IN ONE DAY

yourusername: oh maxy, do you need a cup of tea

maxverstappen1: and a hug ????

yourusername: yes, even a hug

user48: oh to have max that pathetically down bad for you

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 2,309,773 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: can you people stop thirsting over my girlfriend please - i may not be able to fight but she can

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user49: HE HAD ENOUGH

user50: i mean i too think thirst comments from my literal friends would throw me over the edge

user51: he was like winning in brazil is not enough i gotta watch my gf beat the fuck out of someone and then publicly claim her

yourusername: you're puffing out your chest in the paddock when all the girls on the internet are thirsting over you - if anyone should be jealous it's me

maxverstappen1: but you're so much better than anyone else i am horrendously in love with you

yourusername: HORRENDOUSLY

maxverstappen1: i have never felt anything like this? im scared???

yourusername: no need to be scared baby i'm in for the long ride

yourusername: and i can and WILL protect you

maxverstappen1: i need to report a hostage situation? it's me in my bedroom - i need to be saved

yourusername: you're so cheesy, you're lucky i love you

user52: i have another hostage situation - it's me in this comment section

user53: watching them be in love is like torture to me i'm so lonely

user54: they need a trigger warning i fear

maxverstappen1: @landonorris @pierregasly @olliebearman suck on that

landonorris: LEAVE ME ALONE

pierregasly: don't hate the player hate the game

olliebearman: why did you say fuck me for ????

maxverstappen1: i've seen those looks ollie don't lie to me

yourusername: babe i think he might just be scared of me

olliebearman: WOMEN IN POSITIONS OF POWER SCARE ME I'M SO SORRY Y/N

yourusername: no worries ollie! max is just possessive

maxverstappen1: ugh duh! you're the best thing that has ever happened to me, obviously i want to keep you to myself

yourusername

liked by olliebearman, maxverstappen and 342,067 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: and iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii will always love you! sorry it had to be done - whitney houston is a LEGEND

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user56: of course she knows that song, she's basically living that story

user57: OF COURSE SHE KNOWS THAT SONG IT'S ONE OF THE MOST FAMOUS SONGS EVER ???

yourusername: and you can bet your ass the red bull garage have been singing it non stop since i arrived

redbullracing: singing is our passion

maxverstappen1: they'd have to kill me to keep me from you DEADASS (pun intended)

yourusername: and that won't be happening because i'll be there to protect you

maxverstappen1: i'm not opposed to watching you deal with a problem in the paddock

landonorris:WHY WAS I MADE THE BAD PERSON WHEN I SAID I WANTED TO WATCH ???

maxverstappen1: because it was my life that an attempt was made on ?

landonorris: and?

maxverstappen1: AND?

landonorris: it would've made winning the championship much easier ?

yourusername: nuh uh i would jump into that red bull and win out of spite

maxverstappen1: it's true, i've been training her up

landonorris: you gonna let me have anything

maxverstappen1: nope :P

yourusername: nope :P

user58: oh they're so annoying 😭

user59: true ride or die couples are so irritating

user60: i still wish i was them

danielricciardo: i get fired and you get a girlfriend ??? how is this fair

maxverstappen1: idk what you want me to say, i'd never give y/n up for anything

danielricciardo: not even a red bull maxiel reunion

maxverstappen1: sorry buddy, maxiel is dead

danielricciardo: EXCUSE ME?

yourusername: sorry daniel, there's a new sheriff in town - should've charmed max when you had a chance

maxverstappen1: try as he might, he'd never be you

yourusername: awwwww considering your massive teenage crush on him... i love you!

danielricciardo: so fuck me then?

fin.

note: TWO IN ONE WEEKEND WHAT?

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 instagram au #f1 #f1 social media au #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen social media au

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maskyartist · 2 years ago

Note

same I hate cinder

its not even that i hate her tbh! its more like she's just kinda...bland i guess? in comparison to how she was in the first 3 volumes, she's kinda fallen off the deep end

and i get thats the point, shes drunk off her own power n hubris, but like... idk she's started a turnaround by the end of v8 i'd say. i think Watts' lil speech actually got to her, what with how she manipulated Neo and actually used her brain instead of brute force to get what she wanted by the end (in Atlas not on the bridge she was unhinged as hell there)

idk! i'm just hoping they keep this up with V10 (which desperately needs to be greenlit so keep up the convos on RWBY yall!) cause i'd love to have our sneaky mastermind Cinder back

#masky gets the mail #yknow i aint even gonna tag this as rwby im not takin the chance-#and again i am NOT here to spread hate on anything or anyone #all characters serve a purpose they're all important to the plot and needed in one way or another #but i really liked cinder more when she was the mastermind/leader not salem's underling #and i guess thats kinda the point??? to show that Cinder never truly escaped that abusive clutch she was in before #just went from one shitty person to another cause its all she knows #but man i just like her more when shes the leader instead of the follower she had so many good moments in v3 #then she got her maiden powers and it went right to her head #and that i can accept cause its reasonable and human i mean cmon wouldnt you go a lil mad with power if u got literal magic??#but its like...that feeling never faded? it just kept growing and growing?#again im not saying Cinder is bad i dont think she is #she serves a purpose and she does that very VERY well #but im really hoping that the end of V8 made her realize how not like herself she's been #and i hope we get that cunning sneaky sly Cinder back cause i loved her when she was just a sneaky bitch

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dieseldame · 1 month ago

Text

𝗕𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗔𝗺𝗯𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮’𝘀 𝗚𝘂𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗗𝗼𝗴 𝗪𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗕𝗲 𝗟𝗶𝗸𝗲:

You don’t serve Ambessa Medarda—you belong to her. A blade sharpened by her hand, a weapon unleashed only when she deems it necessary. And when she calls you back, you come. Not because you want to, but because you must.

“ Her voice cut through the chaos of the battlefield, low and commanding: — Enough.

You froze mid-swing, the blade in your hand slick with blood. Around you, the enemy staggered back, their fear palpable. But it wasn’t them you feared. It was her.

Ambessa stood at the edge of the carnage, the crimson banner of Noxus billowing behind her like a storm. Her gaze locked onto yours, sharp as the sword in her hand.

— Heel. — she said, and you obeyed. Because that’s what a good dog does.

Your loyalty to Ambessa is absolute—but it’s not without its own jagged edges. She saved you from the gutter, pulled you out of the mud and gave you purpose. But she also knows how to keep you in line.

“ — You’d be nothing without me. — she said once, her voice a razor slicing through the air.

You didn’t flinch. — And you’d be dead without me.

The corner of her mouth twitched—approval or amusement, you couldn’t tell. — Careful, — she warned, her tone dripping with danger. — You’re biting the hand that feeds you.

— Maybe the hand should stop teasing. — you shot back, your lips curling into a feral grin.

When she unleashes you, there’s no holding back. You don’t just fight—you decimate. You are her wrath given form, a storm of blood and steel that leaves nothing standing.

“ The first man fell before he even saw you move. The second barely had time to scream. By the time the last one dropped, your hands were slick with blood, the taste of iron thick in the air.

Ambessa watched from a distance, her expression impassive. When it was over, she approached, stepping over bodies as if they were nothing more than broken tools.

— Messy, — she said, her voice calm. — But effective.

You wiped the blade on your sleeve, smirking up at her. — Isn’t that what you wanted?

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The weight of her gaze was enough.

For all your ferocity, there’s no question who holds the leash. She doesn’t need to shout or threaten. A single look from Ambessa, and you fall in line.

“ She leaned in close, her breath warm against your ear. — Do I need to remind you who’s in control?

Your pulse quickened, but you didn’t falter. — You could try. — you said, the defiance in your voice a thin veneer over the truth.

Her hand wrapped around your chin, firm but not cruel. She tilted your head, forcing you to meet her gaze. — Good dogs don’t bite. — she murmured, her tone laced with warning.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. — Good dogs protect their masters.

Her lips twitched into a smirk. — And that’s why I keep you.

Your relationship isn’t just about loyalty—it’s about survival. You’d die for her, and she knows it. But deep down, you know she’d do the same for you.

“ — Why do you keep me around? — you asked once, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

Ambessa didn’t answer right away. She took a sip of her wine, her gaze distant. Then she turned to you, her expression unreadable.

— Because every blade needs a sheath, — she said finally, her voice soft but firm. — And every storm needs a calm.

It wasn’t the answer you expected, but it was the only one she’d give.

There’s a fire between you, unspoken but ever-present. Every glance, every touch lingers just a little too long, charged with a tension that neither of you will name.

“ Her hand brushed against yours as she handed you the blade, and for a moment, the world stilled.

— Careful, — she said, her voice low and deliberate. — That’s a dangerous weapon.

You met her gaze, your breath hitching. — So are you.

She didn’t reply, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a smirk. The air between you crackled, heavy with something more dangerous than steel.

Ambessa doesn't need to command you often. You know her expectations, and you exceed them without question. But when she does pull your leash, it's always at the exact moment your bloodlust threatens to consume you.

“ The enemy commander fell to their knees, gasping, clawing at the gaping wound you'd left in their chest.

— Kill them. — your instincts roared, muscles tensed and ready to strike again.

— Stop.

Ambessa's voice cut through the red haze like a blade, and your hand froze mid-swing. You turned to her, chest heaving, fury still burning in your veins.

— Not yet, — she said, stepping closer, her gaze locking onto yours. — Let them crawl. Let them beg. We'll show them mercy when it suits us.

Your grip tightened on your weapon, your jaw clenched, but you didn't move. You didn't need chains to be bound to her will-her words alone were iron.

You are more than her protector-you are her shadow, ever-present and unrelenting. Where she goes, you follow, your presence a silent promise of violence.

“ The nobles whispered as she entered the hall, their eyes flickering to you as you trailed behind her like a ghost.

— Is that really necessary? — one of them sneered, gesturing toward you. — This is a banquet, not a battlefield.

Ambessa smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. — A good general knows that every room is a battlefield.— she said smoothly.

Her hand brushed against yours as she passed, the briefest touch grounding you. You didn't speak-you didn't need to. Your silence was louder than any threat.

Your relationship is a constant push and pull, a power struggle where the stakes are as high as the tension between you.

“ — You think you could lead without me? — you challenged, your voice low and laced with defiance.

Ambessa's eyes narrowed, her presence filling the room like a storm. — Careful. — she warned, her tone a blade at your throat.

— Or what? — you pressed, stepping closer, your pulse pounding.

Her hand shot out, gripping your chin, forcing you to meet her gaze. — Or you'll find out what happens to dogs who forget their place. — she said, her voice calm but seething with authority.

You didn't pull away. You couldn't. The power in her eyes held you captive, and for all your bravado, you knew she'd already won.

Every scar on your body is a testament to your loyalty to the battles you fought for her, the blood you spilled in her name. But some wounds cut deeper than flesh.

“ — You shouldn't have taken that blow. — she said, her voice hard as she stitched the wound in your side.

— I couldn't let them touch you. — you replied, your tone matter-of-fact.

Her hands stilled for a moment, and you thought you saw something flicker in her eyes-anger, or perhaps something softer.

— Fool. — she muttered, resuming her work. But her touch was gentler than before, her fingers lingering just a little longer on your skin.

For all the battles you've fought, the fiercest one is the unspoken tension between you. Every glance, every word is a spark, threatening to ignite the storm that rages beneath the surface.

“ — You're reckless. — she said, stepping closer, her voice a low growl.

— And you're controlling. — you shot back, your breath hitching as she invaded your space.

Her eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you. The air crackled with tension, heavy and electric.

— If I didn't control you, — she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear, — you'd burn the world down.

— Maybe the world deserves it. — you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

ㅤㅤㅤ

#arcane #ambessa medarda #arcane ambessa #ambessa x reader #ambessa league of legends

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mymindisneverhere · 4 months ago

Text

I can’t lie I’m enjoying writing these. 🙃 lowkey wish it was me

warnings: 18+, SMUT, edging, dirty talk, oral sex, fingering.

Summary: Aaron is having a get together at his home with his colleagues and his wife has had an attitude with him all day… he ends up fixing it tho.

30 Whole Days

He marched up the stairs and into the bedroom searching for her. His breathing was heavy, not from exhaustion but from rage. This was it, she had pushed him to the limit with her most recent emotional outburst. He understood how sensitive she was and that at times her emotions could get the best of her but he never thought she’d use this moment to embarrass him in front of his people.

Her attitude was far out of control and he didn’t know if he were to blame or if this was all on her. She had been short with him all day. Half assed answers, avoiding kisses and walking away when he’d reach for a hug. He couldn’t believe 30 days had done this to her, and had caused her to become so… bratty.

Attempting to lighten her mood, he had asked her to bring him and the guys another round of tequila shots. He knew his wife’s favorite thing to do was serve him, not only because he’d asked but because it was her love language, so he figured it wouldn’t be an issue.

She waited a few beats to respond then flashed a fake over exaggerated smile to him before heading to the bar that sat right outside on the back patio. She was over him at this moment. She was pissed, frustrated, angry and now after 30 days of holding back her emotions, she exploded.

She grabbed the bottle of tequila and took a few gulps of the warm liquor before storming back into the living room where the guests sat. They all laughed and sipped on their beverages as she walked directly to him, never taking her eyes off of him.

“Pour your own damn shots!” She stated through gritted teeth before slamming the expensive bottle onto the coffee table cracking the glass that held drinks and coasters.

The room went completely silent as they watched her walk away stomping up the stairs and slamming the door a few seconds later.

”We should get going, I think we may have overstayed our welcome.” Jamal, his colleague said, looking over at him with a worried stare. “I’ll see you later man.” Everyone stood and shook hands before departing all at a once.

Once the large horseshoe driveway was empty he immediately turned and shot up the stairs to the owners suite. She had officially lost her damn mind.

“Veronica!” He yelled, in a tone that demanded her presence right away. His voice roared throughout the whole house, there was no way she didn’t hear him. When she failed to appear in front of him, he knew she was purposely testing his patience. He walked into their adjoining bathroom to find her at the vanity casually fixing her hair and makeup.

“Have you lost your fucking mind? I have a house full of guests and you decide to embarrass me?” He asked standing in the doorway eyeing her reflection in the mirror.

“I didn’t embarrass you like I could have.” She shot back, sending a look of anger right back to him.

He paused for a few seconds before letting out a deep breath and nodding his head. “Alright, if this is what you wanna do, it’s fine with me.”

”Fine.” She responded.

As much as he loved his wife, he hated her stubborn attitude. Her need to prove a point, her desire to be right all the time, to be the winner of some game that only she’s aware of. Usually he would be the one to fold simply because he knew his wife and she’d thrown fits like this in the past to get what she wanted but tonight she had taken it too far. He decided that for the first time in the 4 years they’d been married, she would have to swallow her pride to get what she wanted.

He walked out of the bathroom and made his way to the walk in closet. He began smirking to himself wondering how long it would take for her to do the one thing that comes rare to her, beg.

He undid his tie first and removed his dress shirt right after. He kept his white wife beater on along with his dress slacks and dress shoes. After placing his tie and shirt in their designated areas, he left the bedroom and made his way downstairs to the study, making sure to close the bedroom door behind him.

She sat for a few minutes in confusion. He knew what she wanted and by now he’d be giving her just that but something was off about tonight. She got up from the vanity and went into the bedroom looking around for her husband. He wasn’t there.

She went into the closet to see if he’d be there deciding on an outfit for morning brunch with the family but he wasn’t there either.

“He really just left me in this room by myself.” She whispered to herself in shock. She knew he hadn’t left the house because the security system would have alerted her.

She looked over at the clock on the nightstand that read 9:40 p.m. in digital white font. He was going to make her beg for it but she refused to give in, not after he made her wait for 30 days. He owed HER and he was going to be the one to give in, not the other way around.

So she decided to turn on the tv and watch reruns of her favorite reality shows until he walked through the bedroom door, shirt off and dick swinging.

Two long hours had gone by and he still hadn’t made his way back to their bedroom. She couldn’t believe he’d actually decided to sleep in one of the guest bedrooms. I mean yeah she had thrown a tantrum and it may have been a bit much but he started it. How could he not expect her to react this way after going cold turkey for so long.

“I’m over this shit.” She threw the comforter off of her body and jumped down from their tall king size bed. She walked down the hall to the guest bedroom closest to the owner's suite, only to find the bedroom empty. “So now he’s playing hide and seek, how childish.” She mumbled to herself.

She made her way to the opposite end of the hall to the second guest room to find it empty just like the one before. She tightened her satin robe out of pure frustration and trotted down the stairs. She was about to make her way to the living room when she saw a light coming from under the double doors of the study.

“So he’s working while I’m around this bitch playing cat and mouse.” She said, rolling her eyes.

She opened the doors to the study and marched right over to him, locking eyes with her husband. He looked up at her, meeting her gaze, awaiting an explanation. The two had a standoff for a few seconds but the tension in the room made it feel like hours. She was waiting for him to give in, not knowing that he had no plans to do so.

“You got something you want to say to me?” He asked in a low calm tone, never taking his eyes off of hers. He knew what he was doing. He was going to get her riled up until she really snapped. When her patience ran thin, her mouth became lethal.

”You’re not funny Aaron.” She spat leaning over the large desk that separated the two.

He continued staring at her. This time bringing a glass of Cognac to his lips.

“You owe me!” She hissed, leaning further onto the desk causing her robe to slightly slip open revealing her breasts.

He sat, remaining silent.

“It’s been 30 days, stop playing with me!” She warned, pointing her finger in his face.

He finished his Cognac before placing the glass down, his eyes still never leaving hers.

“Tell me what you want.” He commanded.

She smacked her teeth. “You know exactly wh-“ She started but was interrupted.

“You throw a tantrum in a room full of people embarrassing both me and you but now you’re too scared to tell me what you want from me?” He questioned. One thing he knew for sure about his wife was that she was far from scared. He was pushing her buttons on purpose.

“I’m not scared.” She shot back.

He stood up from his chair and slowly made his way to her side of the desk. She turned around to meet his eyes, they had yet to break this intense stare down. He stood in front of her planting his hands on the desk, right by her sides.

Their faces were so close she could smell the Cognac on his breath and that made her clit throb. She loved when he’d had a few drinks, the night would always end with her cries of pleasure. But she wasn’t so sure about this night, her tantrum had really pissed him off and he was really standing his ground.

“So say it.” He said, his voice deep and impatient.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sudden command. Aaron was usually very gentle with her. He’d treat her like she was fragile, like she was a priceless piece of art that should be handled with great care.

This Aaron was a bit dark, not in a scary way but in a way that made her regret her decision she’d made hours before. She wanted a reaction out of him but she didn’t expect this one.

‘Say it.” He repeated, this time through gritted teeth.

“I want you to fuck me.” She whispered.

“You were loud a few minutes ago, why you whispering now?” He questioned. “Say it, louder.”

She hesitated for a second, looking down at his lips. They were so soft and full, she wanted them wrapped around her clit.

“I want you to eat me til I cum and then fuck me, right here on your desk.” She said in a normal tone.

He smirked at her response simply because she truly thought she was the one calling the shots in this moment.

He used his knee to part her legs and wrapped one hand around her neck, causing her head to fall back. He snatched the belt on her robe making the thin fabric to fly open. He placed wet kisses down her neck to her shoulder before licking back up to her ear.

“You enjoy embarrassing me?” He spoke into her ear causing her to inhale sharply from the warmth of his breath.

“I wasn’t trying to.” She breathed.

He ran the tips of his fingers across her nipple, still nibbling on her ear. He knew tending to her sensitive spots at once would drive her crazy. He played with her left nipple, enjoying the feeling of its hardness in between his thumb and index finger.

“Then what were you trying to do?” His voice remained low and calm in her ear.

She was in so much bliss she couldn’t think straight. He hadn’t even fucked her yet and she was already feeling her first orgasm coming. Her first orgasm in 30 days.

Aaron had decided that they should hold out on sex for a month. It wasn’t due to any mishaps in their marriage, he just wanted to build some anticipation.

He had married a woman with a high libido and with him being the first man to ever make her orgasm, she was demanding sex from him damn near everyday. They would get breaks during that time of the month but even then she still wanted more.

”I don’t know.” She barely managed. Her body was feeling so many things at once, things she hadn’t felt in a while that all she could manage to say was “I don’t know.”

She hissed from pain as he pinched her sensitive nipples and bit her ear. He wasn’t pleased with her answer.

“I was mad at you.” She admitted , “I was just pissed but I’m not anymore.”

He gently brought her face up to meet his before saying “Well I am.”

He kissed her passionately, not leaving an ounce of emotion behind. He was animalistic. He had never been an aggressive man but tonight he decided to take his anger out on his wife, the one who had caused it. He bit her bottom lip slightly before pulling back and forcing her back to lay flat on the desk.

He wrapped his arms under her thick thighs pulling her hips to the edge of the desk. He placed kisses and bite marks on her inner thighs, the bites causing her to moan in pain and pleasure. He came face to face with her pussy, placing kisses around her lips to tease her, one of the things she hated.

She rolled her hips in anticipation hoping that one of his kisses would land right on her clit. He tightened his grip on her thighs making it hard for her to move from his hold.

“Baby please.” She begged.

He smiled to himself before placing his tongue in between her lips. He licked slowly from her entrance all the way up to her clit, making sure his tongue hit every inch of her pussy. When he got to her clit he carefully rolled his tongue in circular motions, sucking it ever so often. He didn’t want her to come anytime soon so he thought he’d enjoy edging her.

“Ooh yes!” She moaned, placing her hand on his head. This was her way of telling him he was doing a damn good job.

“Yes daddy right there.” She moaned, indicating that her orgasm was near. Right when she could feel it build in her stomach, he’d slow down, making her come back down from ten. He done this a few times and she was becoming frustrated but that's exactly what he wanted.

“After what you did, you think I’d give it to you that early?” He asked, planting kisses up her body. He licked and sucked on her nipples one at a time. He carefully pushed two fingers into her pussy while still focused on her breasts. He pumped his fingers in and out of her, making sure to hit her G-Spot, sending her back up the orgasm ladder.

“Oooooh fuck!” She cried out. “Like that baby, just like that.” Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she prepared to send her wetness all over his fingers.

He felt her pussy tighten around his fingers and he slowed down, stroking in and out of her at a snail's place.

“Oh my God.” She moaned. “Why are you doing this to me?” She cried out in pure frustration.

He let out a deep chuckle before pulling his fingers out and placing them in her mouth. She sucked them, moaning at the taste of her on his hands. He undid his pants with his free hand, dropping his underwear in a swift motion. She was so into sucking her juices off of his fingers, she couldn’t brace herself for the dick she hadn’t had in a month.

He slid inside of her, giving her a quick and hard thrust causing her to let out a loud moan. He paused for a few seconds, taking in the tightness of her wet pussy. It had been so long since he’d been inside her, they both needed to adjust.

“Shit.” He managed.

He pulled out of her, slapping the head of his dick onto her throbbing clit. He needed a moment to prepare himself for this ride. If he was going to give her the punishment she deserved, he'd have to last long enough to make it worth his while.

He pushed inside of her slowly, admiring the way her eyes rolled into her head. He loved the faces she made when he fucked her, she was so fucking pretty.

He lifted both of her legs up resting them on his shoulders. He held onto her full hips as he thrusted in and out of her slowly. She frowned from pleasure, lust written all over her face.

“That dick feels so fucking good.” She moaned, her eyes shut tight.

“Look at me.” He demanded.

Her eyes fluttered open landing right on his. As soon as they locked eyes he picked up the pace. He was testing her, he knew that if he quickened the strokes she'd struggle to keep her eyes open.

Just as he thought, her eyes closed and when her eyes closed he slowed down.

”Okay baby, I get it.” She moaned in a pleading tone.

“Close your eyes again and I’ll stop.” He said, looking down at her.

She fixed her eyes on him again, her eyes low and lust filled.

He picked up the pace again, rolling his hips into hers making sure to hit her spot. He wasn’t going to let her cum until she begged him.

He was fucking her into oblivion. There’s was no way he expected her to keep her eyes locked on him when he was fucking her like they would never see each other again.

“I’m sorry daddy, I swear I’m sorry.” She cried out, her eyes beginning to roll again.

“Open!” He warned.

“Please baby.” She cried again.

”Please what?” He asked, never missing a beat. He could see in her face he was hitting the right spot. It was only a matter of time before she gave him what he wanted. He bent down, bringing his face to hers, still stroking her pussy.

“I wanna cum.” She begged.

He sped up the pace staring directly into her eyes.

“Please I wanna cum.”

“Let it go baby.” He said, giving her the okay to release her treasures onto him.

“Fuck yes!” She screamed out in pure ecstasy.

He watched as her body jerked from the orgasm it was experiencing, the way her pussy increased in wetness damn near sent him over the edge but he wasn’t done with her just yet.

“That’s right baby, get all that shit.” He said into her ear, placing kisses on her neck and cheek while she came down.

She moaned, still trying to catch her breath and relax her body underneath him.

After a few more seconds, pulled out and walked backwards until he found one of the large chairs in his study.

“Come here.” He demanded, his eyes still never leaving her. He sat down, placing his arms on the rests of the chair as he watched his wife struggle to get across the room.

“My legs are a little sore.” She whined as she walked to him.

“Come. Here.” He repeated impatiently.

Finally crossing the room, she stood directly in front of him and dropped her robe.

“Sit on this dick.”

She climbed onto him, her coffee colored skin tainted in sweat, her large breasts decorated with nipple rings that complimented her large dark brown areolas, she was a sight to see. She positioned herself right above his dick and sat down slowly, staring down at her husband.

She rolled her hips into him as she looked for pleasure in his stare. All she could find was lust and a hint of anger. She didn’t know what to expect from him, he was actually fed up with her tonight.

She rode him anyway, deciding that she’d take this moment to be selfish and get her pleasures regardless of the stern look on his face. She closed her eyes and dropped her head back as she held onto him, her hands on the back of his neck for support.

“Mmmmm.” She moaned in enjoyment, her hips rolling at a steady pace as she felt the wetness from her pussy spread to her inner thighs.

He sat back and watched his wife take control. He loved that she wasn’t afraid to take full control to reach her orgasm. He appreciated the fact that she was a sensual woman and proud of it.

But he was the one calling the shots tonight. He snaked both of his hands up her body reaching for her neck, gripping her throat.

“Yes daddy.” She moaned, still caught up in her own pleasure.

Without warning he began thrusting his hips into hers, making her eyes open in surprise. He had let her have a few minutes to come down from the last climax but it was time to remind her who was really running the show.

“Yes, fuck me baby.” She cried out. She held onto his wrists as he fucked her. Her cries became louder as he continuously hit her spot with every single stroke. She looked down at him again as he brought her face to his, still stroking in and out her pussy.

“You like making me mad don’t you?”

“No.” She replied out of breath.

“You wanna embarrass me again?” He asked, his lips touching hers.

“No Daddy.” She cried, as she felt her climax coming.

The way he was fucking her, the way he was talking to her had unlocked another level of sensual satisfaction. The hold he had on her neck, the way he caressed his thumbs against her lips, his deep sultry tone of voice and spicy smell of liquor on his breath was a combination that would send another orgasm through her body.

“You cum when I tell you to.” He barked through his teeth, daring her to climax.

“I can’t hold it anymore.” She cried, a small tear of ecstasy running down her face. She came harder than the first time.

“Yes!” She screamed out, unashamed and completely out of body. Her pussy pulsated and slightly stinging from pain due to his size. He let the tear run down her face as the rest of her emotions ran down his legs. She squeezed her eyes shut as her body responded to yet another orgasm.

“I knew you’d beg me for it.” He smirked with his cocky ass attitude.

”Fuck you.” She whimpered, taking in every moment of her peak.

”I know, baby.” He said, soothing her after ruining her. He caressed her cheek as he watched her come down from yet another orgasm. He had to admit to himself that this tantrum she had thrown earlier had unlocked a different beast inside of him. He kinda liked it.

“You okay?” He asked in a calm tone, he could never fully get rid of the gentle side of him.

She nodded her head slowly then finally collapsed onto his chest still struggling to catch her breath.

“Please don’t make me wait that long again.” She said in between breaths.

“I won’t.” He kissed the top of her head and the two laid together until night became dawn.

Please excuse any mistakes! 🩵

(Y’all ate that last one up so I thought why not write another one. Thank y’all! 🥹)

#aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre fanfic #aaron pierre fanfiction #aaron pierre #it should be illegal to be this fine #aaron pierre x black fem reader #black fem reader #rebel ridge #terry richmond

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filmtv2022 · 2 months ago

Text

Our Time is Limited (18+)

Part II

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Reader

-- Platonic/former lover relationship with Emperor Caracalla x Reader

Synopsis: Reader has belonged to Caracalla for as long as she can remember, her job has been to love and serve him in the quiet moments when even the attention of a concubine cannot suffice. She has served the emperor in whatever capacity he desired. Through the years her love for him grew beyond what many would have deemed proper for one in her position of employment, but it was not a romantic love. The presence of disease had stolen the man she'd once given everything to. Left to care for Caracalla in the midst of his break from reality, Emperor Geta and the reader are forced to admit the feelings they've long harbored for one another.

Warnings: SMUT/sexual acts + "cheating" (but not really, Caracalla and reader no longer have that kind of relationship) + alcohol consumption + language (?)

A/N: Well... when I said the crazy emperors had my brain... I wasn't lying. I have not abandoned my Marcus Acacius story... I just needed to get this off my mind. That said, there may be one more part of this depending on how I feel and how this does. I apologize for any mistakes. I wrote this in a couple of hours.

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Hovering in the background, you squeezed between the spectators, inching closer to the emperors. The copper-headed pair sat surrounded by their entourage of concubines and common whores whose sole purpose was to entertain, to give in to the whims of the men they served. Your role was not entirely different, and yet, you were to be set apart from the others. Your presence at these events was required, but the emperors would sooner murder than allow the public to view you in the same light as those whose hands roamed their bodies in public. You served a much more intimate purpose. Therefore, you kept your distance, leaving just enough space between yourself and them so that no eyes would wonder and question.

Out of the corner of his eye, Emperor Geta caught your approach. His eyes locked onto you, searching for any sign of anxiety or nerves. He knew without question that you desired to be anywhere but here, and still, he didn't doubt that your loyalty remained strong. Your features were stoney and severe with your attention falling to his brother whose eyes were on the scantly clad man sat before him. The burnt orange of your stola matched the hue his brother famously loved and complimented the bare expanse of skin along the shapely curve of your arms and shoulders. You were positively stunning, every bit the measure of the well-to-do women who adorned their husbands' arms.

Satisfied that nothing was amiss, Geta hesitated for a moment, seeing the weariness behind your eyes. Something troubled you, but given the state of his brother's mental well-being, it was likely as anything that was the cause of your worry. With nothing to be done at the time, he reached for the concubine he’d carted along for the day's festivities. Hauling her close, he let the weight of her hand against his chest, settle the crashing energy that sang through his body, but nothing was a match for the intensity of the fight that erupted amongst the gladiators.

The fight was brutal and quick. The larger man crumpled into a bloody heap, soaking the marble floor in a sea of sickly scarlet. The pool smeared beneath the weight of his body as the guards dragged him out of the room. The grunts and moans of pain were soon replaced by the questioning trill of Emperor Geta. The fight had clearly impressed him. The eloquent sound of poetry rolling off the tongue of the victor caught you as strange, but now was not the time to linger. With the crowd in awe and Geta keyed up, it felt like the appropriate moment to slink back into oblivion.

You maneuvered down a darkened hall, the only light poured in amber waves along the stone from the torches that lined the walls. The walk passed without note, the distant sound of chatter gave way to the echo of your sandaled feet. Each step brought you further from the chaos of the arena and for that you were grateful. No matter how many games you saw, the violence never grew more appealing. You couldn’t blame the emperors for enjoying the joys they were afforded in life, but that did nothing to change your opinion. They could eat, drink, fuck, and enjoy whatever and whomever they desired. Your job was simply to be there when called. No questions or judgment, and that was more than enough for you to handle.

The sudden clomp of footfalls barreling down the corridor sent electricity singing down your spine. Snapping back in their direction, you reached for the blade which sat flush along your thigh. The metal was warm to the touch, the heat of your body having warmed it palpably. No sooner had you freed it of its holster, than a familiar face rounded the corner. Emperor Geta’s pale face glowed oddly in the flickering light, the shadows casting his features in mystery. Sliding your weapon back into place, you stayed rooted to the spot and waited the mere seconds it took for him to close the space between you.

“Where are you going?” His voice was soft as he crowded into your space. His hands flexed at his sides, itching to touch you, to hold you close, but that was a line he couldn’t bring himself to cross, if only for the sake of his brother’s well-being. “My brother… he calls for you.”

Your face dropped to the floor, unable to stand the burn of his molten stare. “I am unwell… my-my head.” The lie was partially rooted in truth. The violence of the fight brought back memories of a long past day that led you to the gates of the palace, in need of a kindness that only those in power could grant you. The simple memory of which brought you real physical pain.

“Have you eaten today? Perhaps some wine and bread could cure what ails you. I have selected the best for our celebration.” A thin smile flashed upon the emperor’s face, pulling the corner of his lips up in a beautiful tilt though the grin didn’t meet his eyes.

“As much as I adore your taste in wine, I do not believe any amount of drink will ease the pain I am feeling. Now if you’ll excuse me, Emperor.” The swish of your stola brushing against your skin sounded as you turned away.

Panic flashed hot forcing Geta to move… to speak. “Wait!” His outstretched hand sat in the space between you for only a moment before dropping back to his side. “He needs you… he’s- he’s struggling. Today is not a good day.”

“I am aware, but he has you.”

“But I am not the one he desires.” Once again, Geta stepped closer, pleading with you to listen. “I fear what he will do, how he will act before the public today without you by his side. Please, for his sake… and for my own. Care for him as only you are able.”

The sheen that pooled in Geta’s eyes was enough to flip your stomach. This cruel and vicious man held his heart wide for those he loved. It was a select few, but those he cared for in that way were not only adored beyond measure but treated with a life only he could provide. There was a true sincerity to it. He held his brother dear despite the many rumors that circulated about the pair. Caracalla had long since been the subject of jokes and cruel speculation. It was true, the illness that plagued his loins had spread to his brain, eating away at the once vibrant and loving man he’d once been. And yet, no matter how much he’d lost to the disease, there was always a thread of his former self there to reel him in and back to reality.

But as of late, that thin connection between reality and fantasy had grown more fragile. It took a delicate hand to keep Caracalla balanced, especially in front of important company and prying eyes. You and Emperor Geta were the cherished few who had the ability to return Caracalla to this world, and increasingly, your loving touch seemed to be the only thing that worked.

“I understand. I will do what is necessary.” You nodded shallowly, acknowledging the favor the emperor had asked of you. “Let us not linger, it is unwise for him to be alone with those vultures you surround yourselves with.”

A flicker of shock at your boldness shot across his features, but he decided against pursuing the thoughts and questions that flooded his mind. Instead, he settled with a simple statement of thanks before guiding you back to his brother.

The murmur of people grew louder with each passing step until it reached a tipping point. Back inside the space you’d fled so quickly, you searched the crowd for Caracalla. It took only seconds to find him, standing beside the table overflowing with treats and wine. Your approach was lost on him, his entire focus settled on selecting the next delicacy. With his stability in question, you knew it would be wise to make your presence known before stepping into the space beside him.

“Emperor Caracalla!” The youthful man turned to find the person who’d spoken, and at the sight of you, an enormous grin erupted from ear to ear across his pockmarked face. “What delicious finds have you discovered for us today?!” The shirtless man who’d accompanied the emperor from before took one look at you and decided he was no longer needed. Relieved of his duty, he retreated to stand with the group of concubines that had formed near the entrance, greeting the guests as they moved to and fro.

“My dear!” Crumbs adorned the corners of his mouth as he held the remnants of a pastry in his hand. “Come! You must try this! It is simply delightful!”

The emperor met you halfway, holding out the last bite for you to take. You could feel the stares that descended upon the pair of you as he held the last bite to your lips. You opened for him, luxuriating in the sweetness that coated your tongue. Caracalla’s eyes gleamed with delight at the sound of your satisfied hum of appreciation unaware of how this interaction would appear to others.

“It was delicious. Thank you for sharing.” You reached for his face and brushed away the flecks of baked dough that clung to his makeuped countenance. Avoiding the open marks that even rouge could not cover, you pushed through the pain to give him the smile he so clearly wanted to see. The boyish wonder in his eyes was catching.

The emperor’s fragile hands settled on your waist. His touch was not that of a lover, but that of a young man desperate for the attention and love he deserved. Holding you close as he spoke. “Where did you go? I’d thought you’d left me.” Caracalla paused for a moment intending to let you speak, but the furrow of your brows kept the words flowing. “Are you all right? Your brow is pinched. You only get that look when you are in pain.”

Tenderly, you swept a stray hair away from his temple. “I am as well as can be expected, and please, forgive me for my momentary absence. The swell of noise during the fight was too much for me to handle. But I am here now. I would never leave you.”

“But you are not well… I can see it here. It is one of your head pains.” The pad of his finger ran between your brows and down the bridge of your nose. “You need not be brave for me. You must rest, there will be many more games for you to enjoy.”

Sensing a pair of knowing eyes upon you, your attention flicked in the direction of Emperor Geta and found him watching just as you’d suspected. Even without words, you knew exactly what he asked. The nearly imperceptible nod of your head assured him that you were going to uphold your promise.

“I appreciate your kindness, Emperor, but my place is here… with you. There will be time for rest later. Besides, I’m sure a steady flow of wine and pastries would do me good.” You forced yourself to smile once more before heading toward the table. “Join me. Tell me what I must try!”

A gleeful laugh bubbled from Caracalla as he followed quickly behind. The pair of you stayed like this, tasting and drinking until it was time to retreat to the Emperors’ box for the games. Focused only on the task at hand, your eyes never ventured into the arena. Rather, you studied the way Caracalla moved, the cadence of his speech, admiring the way his eyes lit up at the clash of swords. Through all this, unbeknownst to you, Geta’s attention split between the violence unfolding before him and yourself. He clung to the sound of your laughter and marked the hazy film that unfocused your gaze the longer the day drug on. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the pain you’d claimed to be ailed by earlier had grown nearly unbearable, and yet your attention never wavered. The dedication you showed his brother filled him with something he couldn’t label. The warmth low in his belly belied just how fully he’d come to care for you.

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Night had settled upon the emperors' residence. The halls fluttered with torchlight, but the depths of Geta’s chambers were a murky gray, illuminated only by the moon filtering through curtains that swayed in the breeze. The concubines he’d selected to entertain his needs lay spread out over his bed, their bare skin damp with sweat from the night’s activities. The only sound besides that of their gentle breathing was the rustle of the soldiers posted outside his door. One could never be too careful.

The blissful silence had him drifting into sleep when the sudden thunder of banging upon his door ripped him from the edge of slumber. Sitting bolt upright in bed, he reached for the knife that sat beneath his pillow, ready to defend himself should the need arise. Geta’d barely managed to extricate himself from the pile of limbs he’d been entangled with and don his robes when the frantic call of your voice pleading with his praetorian sent dread running through his limbs. Heavy with worry and lack of sleep, he pushed across the large room and ripped open the door.

The movement was followed by your lithe frame pushing inside his chambers, and what he saw only heightened his fear. Crimson stained your cheek, running down the smooth expanse of your neck before soaking into the luscious fabric of the robe you had wrapped around yourself. He recognized it at once as belonging to Caracalla. The fact that you’d been attending to his brother was not unexpected, but the wound that marred your face was terrifying.

“You’re hurt! Tell me at once who did this to you!?” Geta’s voice shook with the effort it took to maintain his control. Behind him, the stirring of his “guests” went unnoticed. His calloused fingers wiped gently at the oozing cut along the top of your cheek. You’d flinched from the pain, reaching for his wrist to still his ministrations. Frozen in place at the feeling of your touch, he waited barely breathing for your response.

“It’s your brother! He woke in a fit, he… he didn’t recognize me. He tried to- he thou- he thought I was there to kill him. He-”

“He did this to you?!” It wasn’t so much a question to you, but to himself for this was the thing he’d always feared. The day in which even your presence wouldn’t be enough to return him to this world.

“Yes.” You whispered, afraid of what this could mean for the beautiful men you’d come to adore after all this time. The pain in Geta’s eyes at your confusion was crushing. “I am so sorry, Geta.”

“Do not apologize. I will take care of this.” Forced to let go of you, he spoke quickly with his guards before dismissing his guests. The women scrambled for any scrap of clothing they could find and made their hasty exit.

Moving on his command, the soldiers hastened toward Caracalla’s chamber, leaving you behind with Geta. Alone, he grabbed for a chiton that lay draped over the chair beside him. Reaching for you, he pressed the cloth to your cheek applying pressure as he spoke, “Stay here, and keep this on the wound until I return. When I leave, lock the door behind me and open for no one other than myself. Understand?”

“Yes.” A slight nod from him was all he managed before turning to follow his praetorian.

Doing as you were told, you soon moved further into the room. You admired the lived-in feel it maintained despite the solid marble that made up every surface. The bed sat disheveled, clearly the night's adventures had been rather boisterous. Staring at the tangle of sheets, you felt the bile rise in your stomach. You laid no claim upon Geta and yet you couldn’t stop the bubble of envy that stirred in your soul.

The breeze fluttered through the curtains allowing you to peer beyond the protective walls of the palace to the streets of Rome. Even at this late hour, people moved about. Some lit their path with flame while others remained shrouded in darkness, praying they could slither about unnoticed. It took only a few more steps to reach the balcony. Fresh air filled your lungs as you leaned against the entryway, your nerves still buzzing with anxiety. Time slipped by unreliably. Each minute an hour, fraying the last of your resolve into shreds.

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Eventually, a soft knock accompanied by Geta’s worn voice pulled you across the room. Petrified to know what had become of the situation, you hesitated before opening the door. The wood groaned under your touch, but it was the tear-streaked face that lay on the other side that nearly stopped your heart.

“What happened?” You inquired, giving Geta space to slip inside his room. The loud thunk of the lock being placed filled the silence before he gathered the strength to speak.

Reaching for the cloth you pressed to your cheek, his voice trembled, the gravel in it even more present. “It is taken care of.” The soft thump of the chiton hitting the floor punctuated his confession. The pit in your stomach was anything but relieved by his answer.

“What does that mean?” You searched for signs of gore along the cuffs of his robes, terrified of what you might find.

“He’s sedated. May the gods right his mind during this sleep.” You watched Geta as he scanned over the now-clotted wound along your cheek. Though you couldn’t see, there was no doubt that deep shades of blue and purple had already begun to bloom alongside where the knife had sliced your skin.

“Come here. We must clean this or risk infection.” He moved toward the nearby table.

“It is alright. I can take care of it myself. There is acetum and honey in Caracalla’s chamber. There is no need to waste your supply or your time. You must be exhausted.” Tired only of pretending, Geta’s sturdy frame crowded your space, backing you gently into the cool expanse of stone next to the doorframe. With nowhere to go, you forced yourself to look him in the eye for the first time since he’d returned from tending to his brother.

Words clawed at the back of your throat, trapped beneath the swell of emotions that burned the bridge of your nose. As if moving on their own accorded, Geta’s sure hands found the curve of your waist and the stained column of your neck. Resting his brow against yours, the warmth of his breath drifted over your face as he spoke. “Stay here... with me. I do not care for the idea of you alone with him. Not after this.”

Geta’s chapped lips brushed over yours, never quite embracing the plush expanse of your mouth, but it was more than enough to send a flush rushing over your skin. Your lungs hitched at the feeling of his mouth falling to the hollow of your neck. He hovered over your body, only catching skin for fractions of a second at a time. Your hands found him, running the length of his chest before dipping inside his robes to trace light lines over the ripple of muscle that lay beneath the surface. Geta’s own lungs caught at the press of your hand low upon his abdomen.

Your whisper at the shell of his ear locked him in place. “I cannot stay, you know this. My place is with him.”

“That is only half the truth and you know it. You feel it the same as I… you belong here… with me. You always have.”

“My contract would say otherwise.” The raw ache in your voice pulled Geta back to look at your face. Silver pools threatened to fall as you continued, “Until your brother passes or frees me from his service, I belong to him and no other. It matters not what I feel for you.”

“You cannot believe that.”

“Then what am I to believe?” Defiantly, you pressed the flat of your palms to his chest and pushed him back further. “He is the emperor of Rome, the same as you. To defy him would mean my death, even you could not overrule that.”

“He would he would never have to know.”

“Secrets move like lightning in this palace. There would be no keeping this from him.” You moved to make your exit, but the firm grip of Geta’s hand on your wrist kept you from fleeing. You whipped to face him, striking with your words like a snake, “My death would be on your hands and I do not want that weighing on your conscience. Not now, too much rests on your shoulders. If you feel for me as you say you do… then you know what we must be to each other. We can have nothing more.”

“I’m tired of waiting, of pretending that I want anyone but you warming my bed. You are what I desire, what I have always desired. Must I continue to lie to appease my brother?”

“Your brother’s time grows short. I will not squander it and neither should you!”

“There are enemies around every corner, there is no promise of tomorrow. Why should I deny myself what I want most?” Swiftly, Geta hauled you close, his lips crashed against yours, devouring the taste of you. With your back against the wall once more, he slotted his thigh between your own, pressing you down upon himself and earning the most glorious moan from your lips. Caution was thrown to the gods as you threaded your fingers through his hair, holding firm to the roots as he palmed your breasts over your robes. The swipe of his thumb over your nipple sent shivers down your spine and sparked a newfound energy in the emperor.

He wanted more, needed more. The sounds of your altered breathing, paired with the dampness pooling along his thigh gave him the permission to keep going. With practiced ease, he untied the knot at your waist, and pushed the oversized robe from your shoulders, exposing you to him.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He smiled against your skin as he spoke. His lips worked a line of fire from the hollow of your neck to your chest. The talented flick of his tongue over your nipple had you gasping for air. It was too much and not enough at the same time. Tiny whimpers from you accompanied his continued journey south. Dropping to his knees, he found himself mesmerized by the feeling of your skin beneath his lips. Calloused hands roamed the broad expanse of your stomach before dropping to explore your thighs.

Geta nipped and sucked at the skin there, leaving marks only he’d know existed. Nearly to where you needed to feel him the most, the emperor pulled back, leaving your skin on fire and your need unfulfilled. A whine ripped from your lungs as your eyes dropped to look at him, and what you found was intoxicating. Geta’s eyes were blown, the rich brown was hidden behind his pupils. Lust had replaced all other emotions.

Your fingers ran through his soft strands in a feeble attempt at guiding him back to you. When you felt him resist, you finally spoke. “Why have you stopped?”

Geta’s strong hands gripped the back of your legs, keeping you steady as he spoke. “Believe me when I say this, I love you. Nothing will stand between us. I vow to protect you until my dying day”

The emperor didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, his mouth returned to you, this time right where you’d wanted him before. The steady pressure of his lips around your sensitive bud would have been enough to bring you over the edge, but the insistent curl of his fingers in your core had you keening. Geta hummed against you adding to the pleasure. It had been far too long since you’d felt the loving touch of another. What existed between you and Caracalla had never made it to this point. For certain, there had been romantic moments, sensual touches, and lust-fueled encounters, but those had long since ceased. Even prior to the onset of his illness things had begun to shift. But the real change had come upon him falling ill. This had brought about a necessary departure from that kind of bond. The disease that stole him from reality also stole him from the urges that all humans felt, leaving you to take care of yourself in those moments for far too long.

But in this room, surrounded by only moonlight, and the man at your feet, you found yourself again. It took only a few more well-placed strokes of his fingers for Geta to bring you over the edge. Sparks tore through your body, causing your muscles to spam and your core to clench in rhythmic waves around his fingers. Carefully, Geta worked you through your release stopping only once he felt your body relax. Unsure of your ability to stay standing on your own, he stood to full height, capturing your lips at once.

You could taste yourself upon his lips, earning him a heady groan. Wanting to hear more of you, he brought his slick-covered fingers to your mouth, running his calloused fingers lips along them before dipping past your lips. The plush heat of your tongue swirling around him, sent his head spinning as he purred in your ear. “Good girl.”

You could feel him hard against your stomach, his own robes were now damp with arousal. The desire to return the favor was overwhelming, and had it not been for his next request, you’d have dropped to your knees just then. Geta smoothly whispered. “Let me take you to bed, even if it’s just for tonight. Let me love you the way you deserve.”

Geta’s wide palms slid over your backside before lifting you gracefully into his arms. Stumbling back to his bed, he lowered you into the expanse of soft sheets that covered the mattress. With you safe and settled, he stepped back and removed his robe. Dropping the burgundy and gold material to the ground, his fist ran the length of his cock, tearing a hiss from between his teeth as he rolled over the throbbing tip.

Geta’s self-control crumbled at the sight of you sprawled out before him. Your hands roamed your own body fluttering over your core and massaging your breasts. With each pass of your fingers, his need to feel you wrapped around him grew too much to bear. Done with waiting, done with watching, the emperor lowered himself on top of you, collecting your slick with his member before easing himself inside. Geta’s strong arms caged you in, blocking out everything but the feeling of you and him together. He searched for your lips, needing to kiss you, but the embrace soon turned into nothing more than swallowing each other's moans. Each roll of his hips brought you closer to the edge once more, even as he clung to the final shred of himself.

“Geta, please…” The pitiful sound of his name tumbling from your lips, accompanied the drag of your nails along his back. Your actions were sure to have left a mark, but it mattered not. With one final pull at the base of his hair, Geta let himself go. You were soon to follow. Your ragged breaths matched with his as he lowered himself further onto you. His weight was heavy against your chest, and yet you knew without it you’d feel exposed. It was exactly what you both needed as you came down from your high.

As your breathing slowed down, the emperor rolled to his side, leaving you empty. You whined at the loss of him, but as if sensing your need, he reached for you, hauling you close. Your face pressed into his chest as your legs tangled. Alone, in his bed, Geta pressed a kiss to your forehead and held you close. For the first time in ages, the world seemed right, as if nothing terrible could happen. He knew that come break of day things would return to normal, but for now, he’d live in this temporary reality.

(Part II)

#emperor geta #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta smut #geta smut #geta x reader #gladiator ll #gladiator fanfiction #gladiator ii #gladiator 2

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leclerc-hs · 10 months ago

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wait for your love - cl16

pairing: arranged marriage!charles x fem!reader summary: in which you're in a fake marriage OR you and your fake husband might be in love with one another warnings: none?? no smut in this part (SORRY), badly translated french (pls correct me), NOT PROOFREAD!, angst, pining???, jealousy, complicated feelings word count: 3.6k author's note: I'm still unsure how i feeeeel about this one but I tried my best!! I think writing about an arranged marriage is a little hard because i didnt want it to be mafia related so this was my take on it. there will be a second part!! i also want to mention that all these separate parts are just events that are little peaks into their marriage. it is not in the span of a week or anything, it takes place over time. they do not go from nothing to being in love in the span of one week. just wanted to make sure you guys were aware of that LOL. ok love u all. sorry if this sucks.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE MARRIAGE WAS merely a façade, designed solely to serve the interests of both of your media images. You weren’t in love—far from it…right?

“Charles! How are you and the beautiful Mrs. doing?” A reporter placed a microphone in his face, an eager grin pulled on his lips as he awaited an answer.

“Elle est tellement merveilleuse, n’est-ce pas?” She’s so wonderful, isn’t she? His gaze strayed from the reporter to where you stood a few feet down the carpet, posing for the dozens of cameras. “Tellement belle.”So beautiful.

His eyes remained transfixed on you, the rest of the world fading into insignificance as he watched you approach. The chatter of the reporter beside him became distant background noise, overshadowed by the sight of your radiant smile. With each step you took closer, a surge of warmth flooded through him, causing his heart to swell with an overwhelming sense of anticipation. Charles turned back to the reporter just as he said “Looks like she is making her way over here!”

“Salut beau gosse!” Hi handsome! You gently press your lips to his cheek, the warmth of your smile radiating as Charles’ face lights up upon feeling your kiss. His hand finds its place on the small of your back, a comforting and possessive touch that speaks volumes of his affection and protectiveness towards you. A united front.

“You guys are seriously too cute!”

The both of you smile largely at the reporter, thanking him, before heading down the carpet to enter the movie premiere.

It wasn’t until you crossed through the main doors of the building that you drop the smile, and his hand drops from the small of your back.

“Tellement crédule.” So gullible. He utters the words briefly, prompting a nod from you before you take a small, deliberate step back, putting some distance between the two of you.

You learned early into the arrangement that Charles wasn’t capable of love. His heart seemed barricaded behind the walls of his ambition, his sole focus on climbing up the ladder of success in his career. It seemed easy at first though, it’s not like the either of you had any feelings for each other.

“Assez!” Charles roared from behind his imposing oak desk, his voice echoing through the room. “That’s enough!” His words cut through the tense atmosphere like a thunderclap, commanding your attention and halting any further discourse with an authority that brooked no argument.

With a subtle roll of your eyes, the delicate sundress draped over your form swayed gracefully with each purposeful step towards his desk. His gaze, cold and piercing, met yours as you reached out, your fingertips lightly grazing the polished wood surface. Leaning in just slightly, you locked eyes with him.

“Je vais me répéter une fois de plus,” I will repeat myself once more. You declared, your tone carrying a hint of assertiveness. Tracing the edge of the desk with a meticulously manicured nail, you maintained your composure, refusing to yield under his scrutinizing stare. “You need to be more careful in public.”

Your cheeks flushed red with frustration, a stark contrast against the determined set of your jaw. Despite the tension, Charles couldn’t help but be captivated by just how stunning you appeared in that moment. He couldn’t tell if he hated you or just wanted to fuck you.

He scoffed before reclining back in his chair, the top buttons of his shirt carelessly undone. His tousled hair appeared as if he had run his hands through it a dozen times—or perhaps someone else had.

He watched as your eyes traced along his disheveled hair and the partially undone buttons of his shirt, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Jealous, mon ange?” He teased; voice laced with amusement. Now it was your turn to scoff.

Mon ange. Him and that stupid nickname.

“Jamais.” Never. You replied firmly, your tone leaving no room for doubt as you turned around. With a subtle sway of your dress, it raised slightly, offering him a glimpse of the lace set beneath it. Without another word, you walked out of the room, leaving him to ponder just how badly he wanted to remove that dress from your body.

He always resented how you seemed impervious to his charms. No matter his efforts, you remained aloof, seemingly untouched by his presence. It bothered him to no end. To him, you were an epitome of perfection, a constant reminder of his own shortcomings.

“Es-tu affamé?” Are you hungry?

You didn’t care if he was. You just needed to distract yourself from the fact he never came home last night. From the fact that he came home obviously smelling like another woman.

The marks on his neck had your throat feeling tight. Marks from another woman. Marks on your husband.

You tried your best to ignore the dark purple marks littered on his neck, and the tiredness in his eyes as he plopped down on the chair across from you. The umbrella in the center of the table, protecting you both from the bright sun as you sit beside the pool.

“Non, simplement fatigué.” Just tired.

You nodded slowly, your movements languid as you bit into a strawberry, its juices trickling carelessly past your lips and trailing down your neck in a sensuous cascade.

Charles couldn’t help but allow his gaze to follow the path of the juice, his eyes tracing its journey down your neck, almost reaching the enticing curve of your breasts.

You made no effort to wipe away the trail of juice, the glistening droplets lingering on your skin like a tantalizing invitation. With a knowing smile, you relish in the anticipation, fully aware of the effect it had on Charles. Men, they’re too easy.

“You should cover up those marks.” You bit into the rest of the strawberry, before standing from the table, preparing to dip into the pool. Charles hands reached out as you walked by him, his fingers dipping into the strings of the bikini bottoms at your hips.

His touch seared through you like a branding iron, leaving a scorching trail of sensation in its wake.

“Est-ce que ç ate derange?” Does it bother you? He looked up at you, his face serious.

The words felt like lead in your throat, heavy with unspoken truth. It didn’t bother you, did it? But deep down, it gnawed at you like a persistent ache, an undeniable discomfort you refused to acknowledge.

“No.” You attempted to push out of his grip, to no avail. “Lâche-moi.” Let go of me. He didn’t.

Never, is what he wanted to say.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned; his eyebrows scrunched as he looked up at you from his chair.

Your hands slipped around his wrists that rested on your hips. “Rien ne va pas.” Nothing is wrong. He cocked his head to the side, as if to say liar. You finally pull out of his grasp, walking towards the pool and jumping in.

End of discussion.

“Did you really need to eye fuck her the whole night?” You half-shouted in the passenger seat of his car, the cool leather seats contrasting with the warmth of your bare thighs clad in the mini skirt.

“Did you really take that guy’s number?” He half-shouted back, his hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel.

“What’s wrong with taking his number?”

There was nothing wrong with taking his number. You both agreed you can date other people if it was kept under the wraps. But despite the coolness of the leather against your skin, it did little to quell the agitation simmering within Charles.

Perhaps it was the rarity of you into dating others. It wasn’t that you couldn’t attract men; in fact, men often vied for your attention. Rather, it was your own inclination against one-night stands that set you apart. Charles concluded in that moment that this must be the reason for his discomfort. And considering you had finally shown interest in someone, did it imply he was special?

“Tout le monde remarque!” Everyone noticed! He spat out the words, unable to conjure a coherent response in his frustration. Deep down, he knew there was nothing inherently wrong with simply exchanging numbers.

You laughed, a carefree melody that seemed to dance through the car, causing you to lean forward over your lap. The casualness of your reaction grated against Charles, intensifying his frustration. How could you be so nonchalant about accepting another man’s number? The knot of unease in his stomach tightened, gnawing at him with a persistence he couldn’t comprehend.

“So?” You turned towards him; his eyes were focused solely on the road. “It’s not like I fucked him in front of everybody.”

Charles head snapped briefly towards you; his eyes narrowing with sharp intensity. The mere thought of you being intimate with another man felt like nails scraping against a chalkboard, setting his teeth on edge with raw, visceral discomfort.

Why was he so bothered? It’s not like he doesn’t fuck other girls.

“Où vas-tu?” Where are you going? You found yourself stood in the archway of the kitchen; Charles leaned against the kitchen island with a glass of water in his hand.

His eyes trailed down your figure, a short black dress that hugged your curves. He felt his patience wearing thin as he watched you engrossed in your phone screen, fingers tapping away and a large smile on your face.

Who were you texting?

“Hm?” You said, still smiling down at your screen. “Où vas-tu?” He egged on, his tone dripping with impatience at your lack of an answer.

“Oh, j’ai un rendez-vous.” I have a date. You tore your gaze away from the screen for the first time since you came downstairs. Lifting your eyes, you met Charles with an infectious smile spreading across your face. The sheer warmth and joy emanating from you caused Charles’s heart to momentarily falter in its rhythm.

A date? He felt sick.

Charles remained silent for a few moments, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand betraying the turmoil within him. The sudden crash of the glass hitting the kitchen floor startled you both, causing a shared flinch as shards slid across the tiled surface.

“What about my event tonight?” He disregarded the broken glass around him, his attention consumed by the word “date” echoing relentlessly in his mind.

“Pretend I’m sick or something,” You tilt your head in confusion. “You’ve gone to events without me before.”

It wasn’t until you went to make a step towards the broken glass that Charles snapped out of it. “Don’t come near, tu pourrais te faire mal.” You could get hurt.

The words made you stop in your tracks and your heart clench slightly.

“Je dois y aller.” I must go.

Your eyes meet Charles one last time, you offer him a small smile before pulling your phone to your ear and answering it with a smile.

Leaving Charles alone in the kitchen, the lingering question of when this feeling would dissipate hung heavily in the air.

“Je ne veux pas que tu partes.” I don’t want you to go. He muttered to nobody but himself in the empty house.

You went on a relentless series of dates since then, each time returning home with a grin that seemed to mock Charles. He longed to wipe that smug smile off your face, but deep down, all he truly desired was to see you genuinely happy. Yet, the idea of your happiness being derived from someone else filled him with a sense of dread he couldn’t shake.

One night, Charles felt his sanity slipping as he anxiously waited for your return, each passing minute amplifying his restlessness. Was this what you did when he was away?

His unease peaked when you finally walked through the door well past noon, wearing a smile that seemed out of place and with your hair tousled, a stark departure to your usual pristine appearance. A faint, barely perceptible mark gracing your collarbone served as Charles’ triggering a tumult of emotions within him.

“Did you fuck him?” His voice was gruff as he walked up to you by the front door, essentially cornering you between the front door and his body.

Your eyes widened at his tone and question.

“Cela ne te regarde pas!” That’s none of your business! You shouted, your finger pressing into his chest.

His eyes blazed with fury, the green in them almost appearing black. “C’est tout à fait de mon affaire!” It’s all of my business!

He was aware of his irrationality, but despite that knowledge, he couldn’t shake the overwhelming emotions stirring within him. All he wanted was for the burning ache in his chest to subside.

“Ce n’est pas juste.” That’s not fair. You countered, your narrowed eyes reflecting your simmering anger, your chest flushing red with frustration as you breathed heavily.

“Tu es ma femme.” You are my wife. He folded his arms firmly across his chest, the sinewy muscles of his biceps straining against the fabric of his shirt, emphasizing his imposing presence.

You rolled your eyes, “C’est faux.” It’s fake. The words almost hurt to say aloud.

“Is it?” His words were short as he looked down at you, his gaze unfaltering, almost begging you to admit that there is something between you two.

“Oui.”

You pushed past him, rushing up the stairs and slamming your bedroom door shut.

You didn’t always fight though. There were good and bad days. Almost like a real marriage, right?

“Mon ange, wear the blue one.” His voice came from a distance as he sat on the edge of your bed, surrounded by the chaos of your closet. You felt a sense of panic wash over you, unable to find solace in any garment you tried on. You couldn’t even decide on a color.

“You always look good in that one, yeah?” He continued; his tone almost absentminded. Despite your turmoil, his words elicited a small smile, causing a faint blush to rise on your cheeks. Grateful that he couldn’t witness your reaction, you silently thanked whatever higher power existed. You vowed never to let him see you blush from his words.

You stepped out from your closet a few moments later, the blue silk dress that left little to the imagination of your breasts, with a small thankful smile on your face. Charles felt his hands itching to touch you as you leaned over the vanity, applying a last coat of lip gloss.

“Prête?” Ready? You turned back towards him, the small pebble of your nipples poking through the thin fabric, a sight that momentarily arrested Charles’s attention. With an effort, he tore his gaze away, clearing his throat discreetly before nodding in response and leading you out the house.

“Pourquoi cela?” What is this for? You quickly ask about the purpose of tonight over the low murmur of the radio as Charles pulls into the valet area of the event.

“It’s for charity,” He swung open his car door, the faint sound of camera clicks filling the air in the moment it remained ajar before he swiftly closed it again. With a sense of urgency, he hurried around the car to open your door, his movements a flurry of activity as he sought to ensure your comfort.

Tonight, he remained steadfastly by your side, his attention solely focused on you, his wife. He didn’t allow his gaze to wander, even as other females vied for his attention with near desperation. It was a departure from his usual behavior, as if he finally decided to listen to your complaints.

“Tu es magnifique.” You look beautiful. He muttered into your ear, his words meant for you alone, shielded from prying cameras. It caught you off guard—a genuine compliment, untainted by presence of the reporters or observers.

“Mon ange, regarde tes cheveux!” Look at your hair! Charles laughter filled the kitchen, reverberating off the walls with a hearty resonance. It wasn’t long until you joined in, your laughter mixing with his in symphony. The sight of both of you covered in flour from your baking rendezvous added a touch of whimsy to the moment, the white powder dusting your hair like a playful snowfall.

You stepped closer towards him, a playful pout forming on your lips, while he looked down at you with a twinkle in his vibrant green eyes. The intensity of the green hue in his eyes was so striking that it caused your stomach to flutter with nervous anticipation.

You noticed his eyes briefly flicker to your lips before meeting with yours again. A silent ask.

His flour dusted fingertips rested against your jaw, holding your face in the palm of his hands, while his eyes flickered to your lips again.

“Laisse-moi t’embrasser, s’il te plait.” Let me kiss you, please. His words were so quiet, as if you both were secluded in your own bubble. You didn’t answer as your eyes trailed all over his face. As if you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly.

“Ne me fais pas supplier.” Don’t make me beg.

He could feel the rapid pace of your heart, almost beating out of your chest as he uttered the words. You nodded in response, but before you could even finish the nod, his lips crashed into yours.

It was anything but gentle. As if, you both had waited years to be able to do this without a camera in your presence.

His tongue slipped into your mouth almost instantly, eliciting a soft moan that escaped your lips and melded with his own. He groaned in response, his arms encircling your waist to draw you closer, pressing you flush against his chest before guiding your back against the messy countertop. One hand found its place against the nape of your neck and jawline, holding your head in place with gentle insistence. Meanwhile, the other hand tenderly played with the ends of your hair before wrapping them around his fist, holding your hair firmly yet tenderly.

“Si doux.” So sweet. He murmured against your lips; his breath warm against your skin as he continued to savor the moment.

Your hands instinctively wrapped around his biceps, holding him close, though he showed no inclination to pull his body away from yours.

His lips trailed along your jawline as he pulled the ends of your hair, lulling you head back to give him more access to your neck. Another soft moan left your lips, escaping into the kitchen, as he sucked on the spot where that mark once was.

“Drive me crazy, mon ange.” He muttered against your skin, peppering kisses along your neck, along your jawline, until he met your lips again with a soft peck.

Your eyes met his and you could’ve sworn you would’ve dropped to your knees right then and there for him.

The distant ring of a cell phone was heard in the background, immediately causing you to push him away from you. Your cellphone.

You looked at Charles with a sense of panic. What were you doing?

As if Charles could sense that panic, he brushed off the pain with a small smile. “Tu devrais répondre à ça.” You should answer that.

You didn’t see Charles for a few days following the kiss.

“Que fais-tu ici?” What are you doing here? Charles eyebrows were furrowed as he took in your figure standing before him, an unnamed bag in hand.

You shook the bag in your hand, “Déjeuner.” Lunch. You waved the bag around like it was no big deal. Like you didn’t come all the way to Maranello to bring your fake husband lunch.

You found yourself unsure of the exact reason behind your actions, yet you did it anyways. With Charles away for the past few days, leaving you alone at home, a peculiar sense of longing seemed to linger in the air. Though you refused to admit it outright, all indications hinted at a quiet, yearning for his presence that you got so accustomed to over time.

“Tu n’avais pas besoin de le faire.” You didn’t need to. A smile pulled on his lips as he slung his arm over your shoulder, grateful for the sight of you.

“Je m’ennuyais.” I was bored. You confessed with a shrug, a hint of sheepishness coloring your tone.

He pulled you into an empty room, wordlessly. Instructing you to take a seat as he grabbed two waters from the nearby fridge.

“Comment se passe le travail?” How’s work? You asked, although your inquiry was more out of habit than genuine interest. Since the kiss, you found yourself at a loss for how to engage with him, unsure of how to navigate the shifting dynamics between you two.

He chuckled softly, choosing to settle into a chair beside you rather than sitting across from you, as if he wanted to be close to you. “Tu m’as manqué.” I missed you. He confessed quietly, his tone revealing a vulnerability he rarely displayed with you.

The tips of your ears flushed with a rosy hue in response to his confession, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your gaze softened as you reached into the bag, delicately arranging the food on the table before him, each movement infused with a tenderness that spoke volumes.

“C’est bon.” It’s okay. He muttered, a silent acknowledgment passing between you two. “I know you missed me too.” A smirk pulled on his lips as you shoved his shoulder half-heartedly.

You didn’t deny it.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine

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sayuri-of-the-valley · 1 year ago

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On how Crowley and Aziraphale felt during the kiss (but mainly Crowley here):

Ok so first, the main idea for this huge meta is that a LOT of us noticed how the music from the kiss scene is similar to the nebula one, right?

Second, a lot of us also correctly noticed the parallels between the kiss and how it was to taste food for the first time for Aziraphale: bc of his reactions, the hand on lips, the similar way MS acted both scenes, the little inhale etc. So how was it for Crowley?

Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss is practically a puzzle to solve on its own, so it's fun to analyse it, but basically, in a few words, Aziraphale kissed Crowley and he discovered he was physically starving for him, longing for him, yearning for him, for his kiss, and he had no idea. Just like with the ox. And now he needs to gorge himself in him but he can't. Great amazing heartbreaking chef's kiss someone give MS an Emmy.

But there's already so much amazing meta out there about Aziraphale x Ox ribs x The Kiss that I want to focus on Crowley here, and on the music.

So back to the music. The song in "Before the Beginning" and the song that plays during The Kiss (I Forgive You + Don't Bother) are so similar. They're not *exactly* the same, but they're totally reminiscent of each other. The viewer is immediately reminded of those chords that played in the opening scene. It's no coincidence that the fandom was talking about this fact only minutes after first watching those final fifteen minutes. This is an obvious intentional choice for storytelling reasons (David Arnold is a genius).

I have no expertise whatsoever when it comes to music, so I asked our friend @otsanda to see if that made sense and not only it does and she explained it, but she also uncovered so much more hidden meaning in all of it (musicians are amazing), so check out her meta about the music that not only serves as evidence to what I'm proposing here but it also has so much more juicy information in it 💖.

Back to the point: WHY thought? Why choose a similar song? Why intentionally COMPOSE a similar song for that moment?

Hear me out. WHAT IF, by reminding the audience of the creation of the nebula, they meant to convey to us that, for Crowley, kissing Aziraphale gave him the same feeling that creating his stars did?

THAT'S what the music is telling us. THAT'S why it makes us remember "Before the Beginning". It may sound cheesy, but Crowley may have literally seen stars when he kissed Aziraphale. He couldn't react accordingly (just like Aziraphale couldn't), bc it was an overwhelming and extremely sad moment (the music is also telling us that) for both of them. They knew it was ending . They were both having a moment of huge revelation that was fated to not come to completion. Crowley was right, it was too late.

It makes sense to show Crowley's feelings through the music, bc he was the one who started the kiss, and also he was wearing sunglasses in that scene, it's different from a character like Aziraphale that has all his million expressions for everyone to see at all times. And they've been doing this ever since s1 with the Queen songs that play in his car or in the background.

So my point is: the same song being used there makes me wonder if kissing Aziraphale finally gave him what he lost. His purpose. What Aziraphale was trying to give back to him by taking him back to heaven. There's no need for Heaven. Just kiss him, Aziraphale, and there he'll find the stars you want to give back to him. There you will one day see that smile on his face you saw Before The Beginning. Neil Gaiman and David Arnold I am in your walls 😭

This is what may lead us to see this happiness in Crowley again (not the action of kissing itself, of course, but what it represents to their relationship, them being together, them being an Us).

As @otsanda said: from the music we can interpret that that moment was a Revelation for them. Almost a religious experience. Crowley found his purpose again. What he'd been missing the whole season (or even his whole life since the Fall, but we've seen him especially depressed this season).

I'm not even getting into the poetry of how one can interpret the parallel to the angel's reaction to the kiss as carnal, and the demon's as religious; that would be another whole essay but let's just agree that it's incredibly beautiful. (Let me be clear that I mean here Aziraphale's reaction is carnal specifically for Crowley, and Crowley's is religious specifically for Aziraphale, not religious as in "worshipping god")

"Do you ever wonder what's the point?" Crowley asked in s2e1. The point, for him, is Aziraphale (if you've seen The Good Place you know what I mean). I hope he figured this out with that kiss, even as heartbreaking as it was. Even if it was a (temporary) separation kiss. (I hope Aziraphale figures this out with time too, that he's more than enough to make Crowley happy, that Crowley doesn't need Heaven, or stars, that Crowley needs him.)

Maybe that's why Crowley didn't leave and kept waiting outside until the very last moment.

Aziraphale and Crowley both bit the apple at the end of s2. There's no turning back from that Knowledge now.

Edit: I just have to add here this brilliant colour analysis of the nebula scene by @halemerry. And it's pointed out that during the nebula formation there's a moment when it looks like two people embracing. And the fact that a similar song is used in the actual Kiss scene I just... I have no words

#good omens 2 #good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens kiss #my meta #good omens meta #before the beginning #i forgive you #don't bother #crowley #purpose #knowledge #music #david arnold #reactions to the kiss #the angel's carnal reaction vs the demon's religious experience

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vigilante-3073 · 3 months ago

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All Those Who Go Unnoticed

Evan Buckley x Female Reader

Summary: Evan Buckley has always been left behind and forgotten about. What happens when someone finally decides to stay?

TW: Mentions of neglect and self-deprecating thoughts, angst, friends to lovers.

Evan Buckley was born to serve a purpose that he could not fulfill. His parents only had another child in a futile attempt to save his older brother Daniel. After his brother had passed away, Buck's parents treated him like he was a waste of space. Everything he did was wrong and he couldn't seem to ever find himself in their good graces.

Buck relied on his older sister Maddie for years until she eventually left him behind to start a life of her own. Buck left home as soon as he could, but struggled to find himself for years. He bounced between jobs in search of something that could make him feel like he mattered.

Everything fell into place when he decided to become a firefighter.

Buck loved his job at the 118, he saved lives everyday with some of the most amazing people he had ever met. He found a family that valued him and treated him how he deserved to be treated. Despite having everything he had spent his life searching for, Buck still felt like nothing he did was good enough.

He could have been smarter. He could have been faster. He could have done more.

Buck had never told anyone how critical he could be of himself. It was something that he always dealt with, definitely a mindset created by his parents.

Buck always felt like he had to prove himself and show everyone that he had value. It was a never-ending quest that weighed on him heavily.

Y/N had quickly become Buck's best friend when he joined the 118 all those years ago. She was a firefighter-paramedic and she was great at her job. Y/N never doubted herself and Buck admired her tenacity, especially when people challenged her in the field.

Y/N and Buck hardly went a day without seeing each other. He felt like his day wasn't complete until he talked to her.

They were the kind of friends that could have a 4-hour long video call while doing chores around the house or spend all day just chatting about nothing in particular. They knew everything there was to know about each other and seemed to share a brain at times.

Buck had never felt seen until he met Y/N.

Y/N always brought him into conversations or found her way over to him when she could tell he was pulling back. Y/N knew about how hard Buck could be on himself, she could tell when he was overthinking and was able to pull him out of that mindset.

"You need to be kinder to yourself, Buck," Y/N had told him one night when he was alone in the locker room after a rough shift.

"I'll try," He had replied.

Buck thought about that interaction quite often, he was always beating himself up for things he had little control over and it needed to end.

It was a hard cycle to break, but he was trying, and he was trying because of her.

...

Buck watched Y/N talk animatedly to Hen and Karen about a book they had all been reading. They laughed loudly at something she said before Hen began sharing her own thoughts on the book.

Y/N looked over, locking eyes with Buck from across the yard and sending him a small wave with a smile. He waved back, watching her as she returned to her conversation.

Bobby took a seat at the patio table beside Buck, "So, when are you gonna ask her out?" He questioned.

Buck's eyebrows raised, "Oh, no, I was just-," He started, "Save the excuse, I can tell that you like her as more than a friend," Bobby said with a knowing smile.

Buck looked down at the table with a sigh, picking at the label on his beer bottle with his thumb nail, "She's way too good for me," Buck said.

"What makes you say that?" Bobby asked.

Buck shrugged, "She's amazing and I'm just me... I don't deserve her," He stated.

"Buck, you're a good guy but you need to know when to get out of your own way. Don't overthink it, just ask her out. I'm almost 100% sure she would say yes if you asked her out on a date," Bobby assured.

"Almost 100%?" Buck asked.

"99.9% sure," Bobby amended.

Buck looked over at her to find her making her way over to the cooler full of drinks. He stood up from his seat and made his way over to her.

"Hey," He greeted.

"Hey, I was wondering when you were gonna stop hiding away in the corner," Y/N teased.

"Can I ask you something?" Buck questioned, "Of course," Y/N replied.

"Um, you can totally tell me if I'm looking at this the wrong way, but is there something- I don't know... Is there something more than friendship between us?" He asked.

"Do you want there to be something more?" Y/N asked.

"I think I do," Buck answered hesitantly.

Relief washed over him when a smile broke out across her face, "I do too," She said.

"Oh my god, you have no idea how fast my heart is beating right now," Buck said, huffing out a soft laugh.

Y/N rested her hand on his chest, feeling his heart pound against her palm, "You really weren't kidding. Do you need to sit down?" She asked.

"No, I'm good. I just- Will you go out on a date with me?" He questioned, resting his hand over her's on his chest.

"Of course I'll go out with you, Buck," Y/N replied.

...

Y/N and Buck had been dating for almost a year, she had moved into his apartment and everything seemed amazing. Buck still felt like he was waiting for the day she found someone better and left him in the dust, but she chose him each and every day.

Buck had never felt like the center of attention, he always went above and beyond to be noticed, but it was effortless with Y/N. Buck felt like he was being seen after a lifetime of feeling invisible and it was the best feeling in the world. He couldn't think of a way to repay Y/N for bringing him to life again.

Until he did.

He sat at a table in the busy coffee shop, a mug of coffee sat on the table in front of him. Buck felt jittery and he had yet to take a single sip of the hot beverage, instead choosing to watch the door closely. Buck straightened up in his seat as Maddie made her way into the establishment. She walked through the tables before sitting down in the chair across from him.

"Where's Y/N? Is she not coming?" Maddie asked.

"Um, no, actually. I kinda needed some time to talk to you... Alone," Buck said hesitantly, grimacing at his own awkwardness.

Maddie gasped, "Are you going to propose to Y/N?" She asked.

Buck's face fell, "How did you know that? I didn't even say anything yet," He questioned.

"I just knew," Maddie grinned, "Aw, Buck, this is so exciting!" She said.

"Yeah, I've been thinking about it for a while now. I mean, with everything we've gone through this year, I don't want to spend anymore time not being together, y'know?" Buck questioned.

"I do," Maddie said.

"I think she's my person, Maddie," Buck admitted.

Maddie smiled, her eyes glossing over with happy tears, "She definitely is, Evan," She said.

"I was wondering if you had some time today to help me pick out a ring. I've looked around a little bit, but I'm kinda useless at this stuff," He said.

"Of course I'll help. Do you have any idea what kind of ring she may want?" Maddie asked.

"I think she likes the ones with the jewel that's shaped like an egg," Buck said slowly.

"This is going to be a very long and expensive day for you, little brother," Maddie sighed with a smile.

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