#who knows what she's about. is respected (and a little feared) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yuujispinkhair · 9 months

Text

Tribe leader/Viking Sukuna headcanons

After seeing this fanart, a sweet anon sent me this prompt: "Imagine that you are a simple girl in another tribe who attracted the leader Sukuna who at that moment came to negotiate with the leader of your tribe, he became interested in you and decided to make you his wife and cooperate with your people. So you left with him and began to live with him and give birth to his heirs."

Thank you so much for sending me this! When I saw the art, I was thinking of something along those lines, too! The picture reminded me of the tv show Vikings, so the following headcanons take place in that time.

Pairing: Viking!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Smut + fluff Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, arranged/forced marriage, virginity loss, blood, breeding, pregnancy, slight lactation kink, having children, miscarriage (Sukuna comforts reader afterwards. He doesn't just want her because of the heirs she can give him), general mentions of violence and human sacrifices. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is feared for his ruthlessness in battle and his strength that seems almost god-like. All the other tribes try to stay on his good side and forge alliances with him instead of giving him a reason to burn down their towns.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who looks so intimidating when he comes to visit your settlement. Tall and broad-shouldered with all those buff muscles on display and the bones of his enemies decorating his clothes.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who you can't take your eyes off when you and the rest of your tribe gather in your leader's throne room and watch the negotiations. He sends shivers down your spine, but not just in a fear-inducing way, if you are honest. He is so enticing. Powerful and intelligent, and so attractive.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is such a beautiful man. His face is too pretty for a warrior. Not even his scars and tribal tattoos can hide his beauty. A smug smirk lifts the corners of his lips, and his voice is calm and confident. He moves gracefully like a big cat, beautiful but deadly. He is the most stunning man you have ever seen, and you hang on every word that falls from his lips as if he carries ancient magic in his voice.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, whose icy blue eyes scan the crowd slowly, glittering like two precious jewels in the firelight illuminating the crowded room. Your breath catches in your throat when that intense gaze lands on you. You feel like a small animal trapped in the gaze of its hunter. Should you lower your head to show him your respect? Or will he take affront if you dare to look at anything else but him?

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who takes the decision away from you when he smirks at you and laughs softly before he turns his attention back to your leader.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who announces his conditions for a peace treaty in a confident, demanding tone. The voice of a man who is used to getting what he wants. A man who knows he is too powerful to get turned down.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who suddenly points a long tattoed finger at you and speaks the words that will flip your whole world upside down, "And I want her."

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who makes your heart drop with his demand, but all you can do is stare at him in a mix of fear and excitement. A murmur runs through the crowd, and already, several hands are pressing against your back, shoving you towards Sukuna, making you stumble and screech as you are about to fall at his feet.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who catches you before you hit the ground, his muscular arms holding you easily, an amused smirk lighting up his handsome face, light blue eyes glittering in amusement as he drawls teasingly, "Aww, someone's eager to become my little wife, huh?"

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who makes you sit on his lap that evening when a big feast is held in his honor and to seal the peace treaty with your tribe. You barely dare breathe, full of fear as you sit on his strong, muscled thighs, gasping when one of his large hands wanders under your skirt to squeeze your thigh possessively.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who has two of his men stand guard in front of your door so no one will attack his future wife or maybe to prevent you from sneaking away. But you aren't even sure you want to run from him. Who are you here in your current tribe anyway? Just another orphan who grew up to help on one of the farms. Isn't this new role much more important? To be the bride of Ryomen Sukuna? To be a means that allows your tribe to prosper and ensures peace and trade with Sukuna?

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, whose large hand has a firm, unrelenting grip on your arm as he leads you to his horse the next morning. But he lets you say goodbye to all your loved ones, taking their blessings and well wishes with you before your future husband helps you onto his horse.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is such a rough man, but whose hands are surprisingly gentle when he lifts you onto the back of his giant horse. He sits behind you, his firm muscles pressing against your back, rippling with every move he makes. His muscular buff arms cage you in, keeping you captive or keeping you safe. You can't tell which one of the two it is.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who makes a conflict rage in your chest. On the one hand, you are scared of this dangerous big man who has the power to just demand to have you as if you are some cattle. On the other hand, you can't deny that small hidden part of you that feels excited that such a powerful and attractive man desires you enough to want to make you his wife.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who makes your pulse flutter nervously when you feel his strong arms around you and hear him order his men around with his low, velvety voice, telling them to find a good resting place for the night.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who kisses you roughly on that first night. His large hands that cup your face are calloused, but his lips are warm, and his tongue is soft and so skilled when he pries your mouth open and licks into it. It's nothing like the shy, clumsy kisses you shared with the boys in your settlement. Sukuna is a feared warrior, a powerful tribe leader, someone who people believe is actually the son of a god. And you can feel all that in his kiss. Deep and intense, making your head spin and your body brim with a desire you have never felt before.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who rides with you again the next day and trails teasing kisses down your neck to pass the time during the long ride. You are sure he is fully aware of what he is doing to you. How he makes your heart race and makes a mix of fear and arousal throb in your veins. Especially when he grabs your chin to tilt your face up and capture your lips in a heated, wet kiss, licking unashamedly into your mouth in front of his men, showing everyone that you are his.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who whispers in your ear, "Are you scared of me, my little wife?" and then breaks out in loud, barking laughter when you exhale shakily and tell him, "Only a fool wouldn't be scared of you... but maybe I am also flattered that you picked me, my lord."

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who still chuckles while his tongue licks a lazy stripe up the side of your neck, and he huskily tells you, "I am not a lord. I am a god. And I saw a goddess right there in that shabby throne room. I had to take you with me. It was a sign from the gods. You will give me such strong and beautiful children. Together, we can conquer the whole world."

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who forces himself to keep his hands off you before your wedding night as a show of respect to the gods, but who lets you feel his desire for you when he hugs you from behind and presses his hardness against you once you have moved into his house.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who has you dressed in the finest garments for your wedding day. A beautiful red dress lined with gorgeous white ermine fur that was specifically made for you. Your neck, wrists, and ears are decorated with glittering gold and precious gemstones.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who makes you squeal when he swoops you up into his muscular arms and carries you into the ceremony hall, accompanied by the loud cheers of his people. Your hand is shaking when you exchange wedding rings with him, but you stay brave, speaking your vows and taking Sukuna's heavy sword when he offers it to you as his promise to protect you.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who sacrifices several of his enemies to the gods to ask for their blessings for your marriage and your fertility. He looks scary with the pattern painted onto his face with fresh blood. But at the same time, it makes him look feral in a way that makes an unknown heat throb between your legs.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who shares his food and mead with you on the decadent feast held after the wedding ceremony, where you sit on the throne next to his. One of his strong arms stays wrapped around your waist the whole evening, and the deep glances he sends your way make your skin tingle with anticipation.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who takes your virginity that night, making you cry out in pain when his thick cock splits you open for the first time. But his lips silence your cry, and soon you make other noises. Loud moans of pleasure fall from your lips as your new husband moves inside you with deep and sure thrusts that hit a spot inside you that makes you scratch the broad muscles of his back and arch up against Sukuna's huge body. Your cunt throbs around his cock as you find the sweetest and most intense release you ever had.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who afterward pushes two of his long fingers into your used cunt to push his seed back into you, leaning down to kiss you savagely and murmuring in your ear that he wants to see your belly hard and swollen with his heirs.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who paints his clan symbols on your face with a mix of your virginal blood and his cum, telling you that you are his forever and that you are blessed by the gods now too after taking his seed into you.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is so proud when you show the first signs of pregnancy.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who becomes extremely protective and possessive now that you carry his heir. Who worships your body every night, cupping and kissing your swollen breasts, licking at the drops of milk that already spill from them, telling you it tastes like the nectar of the gods.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, whose large rough hands caress your swollen belly gently, who kisses it, and talks to your unborn child, telling his son, as he predicts, that he will be born under the blessing of the gods. That he will become a great leader and a god himself one day.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is triumphant when your first child is a boy with pink hair and a strong build and loud voice. A future leader just like his father. The first heir of many more to follow.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is feared by everyone but treats his wife and newborn child with a gentleness that surprises you. He asks you to let him hold your baby and carry him in his strong arms. And the way Sukuna looks at your child tells you that he doesn't just see little Yuuji as an heir but as someone who has Sukuna's heart.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, whose hungry and proud gaze follows you for days until he has you under him again, fucking you with hard, deep thrusts, moaning loudly, and pumping you full of his seed over and over again. "You gave me such a strong heir, my love. I know you'll give me so many more."

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who rushes to your side when you have a miscarriage during your second pregnancy. Who hugs you to his broad chest, wipes the sweat and blood off you, and cradles you in his arms.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who kisses your tears away and reassures you when you are scared he will kick you out if you won't give him more heirs.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who shakes his head and tells you, "I mourn our unborn child, but I thank the gods for not taking my beloved wife away from me too. You are more to me than just a vessel that gives birth to my heirs. You are my wife, my companion, the one who the gods sent to me as my soulmate. I love you. Even if we have no more children, I will never take a new wife."

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who you see in a new light after the reassurance and love he gave you on that day. And suddenly, you find yourself falling in love with your husband, too. You treat him more tenderly. You caress his soft hair when the two of you cuddle in your bed to keep each other warm. You kiss the tattoos on his face and smile at him, your heart fluttering when Sukuna smiles back at you and pulls you into a slow, tender kiss. You will never forget the happiness in his eyes when you tell him you love him too.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who fucks you thoroughly that night until the two of you are sweating and rolling around on top of the warm furs, kissing and caressing each other needily while he fills you with his hot seed until you are overflowing from it.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is delighted when you give birth to your second child, and that child looks like the perfect mix of the two of you. He grins at you and tells you that this is clearly a child of love, conceived on the night you confessed your love to him.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is actually a caring husband who truly treasures you. Who likes to spend his nights with you wrapped under the warm furs, making slow love while he kisses you deeply, rolling his hips with those slow, languid moves that make you sob his name and come undone so sweetly on his cock.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who likes to hold you in his strong arms afterward, with your head resting on his broad chest and your small fingers tracing the tattoos on his chest and abs. He loves to talk to you for hours every night, telling you all about his day, about his current worries and plans, about political things and battle tactics, trusting you with all his secrets.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, whose love fills you with warmth even on the coldest winter days. Your heart is held securely in his strong hands. And you know that no one will dare lay a hand on you or your children in fear of Sukuna's wrath. His strength and power make you feel safe here in your new home.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who teaches you how to enjoy sex to the fullest. Who teaches you how to ride his cock and his face. Who teaches you how to take from him too. Because he is your husband, and that means he belongs to you just as much as you belong to him.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who trusts you with ruling in his place during his absence. Who declares that anyone who disrespects you will get sacrificed to the gods.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who keeps you on his thick, strong cock all night before he has to leave for one of his various exploration trips or battles, savoring you to the fullest. Making sure to fuck you so good that you will still feel him for days after he set sail.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who pulls you into his arms one last time before he boards the ship, kissing you deep and long. And there is this burning love in his blue gaze when he tells you, "I will do anything in my power to come back to you, my love. I have the gods on my side. But if, for whatever reason, they should decide it is my time to enter Valhalla, then I want you to know that I will wait there until you join the afterlife, too, and I will come find you, no matter where you are."

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who luckily doesn't go to Valhalla and always comes back to you with more scars on his gorgeous body but with the same love in his eyes.

AAAHHH I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM!!! This became much longer than I intended, but I really miss the show Vikings, and I love Viking!Sukuna to an insane amount, so it is what it is ;) This was, once again, very self-indulgent, but hopefully, some of my fellow Sukuna lovers will enjoy it too! Thank you so much to the nice anon who sent me that prompt!

Please let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk smut #jjk fluff #sukuna x you #tw pregnancy #tw miscarriage

12K notes · View notes

barbieaemond · 4 months

Text

Lykirī

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

WARNINGS: loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), handjob, we ride him bitches, dom/sub tones if you squint

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

Author's note: an early Christmas gift for those who celebrate!! For those who don't, just a regular smutty piece. This was based on a request where wife!reader rides Aemond. Merry Aemondmas :)

MASTERLIST

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee

"You are to marry the King's second son. Prince Aemond Targaryen."

Those were your father's words. Your sister had looked at you almost with pity and a hint of relief since that fate had befallen you and not her. You had simply nodded, accepting the fate decided by your father, just as thousands of other daughters before and after you would have done.

Your mother had come to comb your hair before going to bed, and without much ado, she had told you what would happen after the wedding, after the banquet.

"All you have to do is try to relax your nerves, and I promise it will be less painful.”

The thought had stuck in your brain until the wedding day. And the aura emanating from the prince didn't help. He was stoic to the point of looking like a statue, his posture rigid as a spindle, and there was something unsettling about him that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand when he took your hand to recite the wedding vows. Fear, but also a foreign giddiness prickling your skin upon feeling his calloused fingers around yours.

The banquet had not helped either. Prince Aegon had behaved like a court jester, drinking to the point of wondering how he could stand upright, poking his brother with cruel jokes about his eye and a whore who had made Aemond a man many years before.

You didn’t know what kind of unpleasant memories your good-brother had just summoned in his brother’s mind. That woman and her cheap perfume, that way it had clung to his skin, to his thoughts for days after his only ever trip to Flea Bottom.

Then the elder Prince had approached you with his breath stinking of Dornish and it was then that Prince Aemond broke his icy silence, standing up abruptly and looking down at you. "Come, wife. It is time for us to retire."

Prince Aegon had clapped his hands as if in front of a hilarious show, saying "Finally some fun! The bedding!"

The entire crowd present at the banquet had escorted you to the prince's chambers. The servants had removed your dress, leaving you in your underskirts; you had unconsciously covered your chest, crossing your arms to hide from the greedy eyes of the men peering in the doorway, Prince Aegon in the front row with yet another cup of wine clutched between his fingers.

Master Mellos invited you to lie down on the bed, and you obeyed, swallowing, while a host of servants shielded you from view as the Maester made his humiliating inspection.

"All is in order, your Graces," the Master informed the Prince and Queen. And that was enough for Aemond to completely slip the iron mask off his face and go straight to the door. "The show is over. Get out."

"Oh, come on, little brother. Let me watch, at least. I could give you some tips."

Aemond had towered over his brother, and from your seat on the bed, you were able to see the eldest brother shrinking by the moment. "This is not some common whore you're speaking of.” Aemond seethed “She is my wife, and you will owe her the respect she deserves. One more lewd word from your mouth, and I will rip your tongue with my bare hands. Am I being clear?”

"Gods, brother, are you already so cunt-struck?"

He never got an answer, only the door being slammed right into his face.

You stood in the middle of the room, torturing your hands as he looked at you from the door. He seemed unsure of what to do, until he cleared his throat and took a few tentative steps in the room.

“You could have some wine, if you wish. It may…help you.” He said, but as he said this, he seemed to regret his own words, given how his mouth twitched as if he had just tasted something sour. Memories could come just like that, sudden and sour.

“You must relax, my prince. Have some wine, maybe? No need to worry, I will take care of you just as a prince deserves to.”

“I’d like to keep my mind clear, my Prince.” You said, keeping your gaze down, hearing his fast and deep sigh. “Fine.” he said, straightening his back as a soldier. After all, wasn’t this just another duty?

It wasn’t just that though. You were his wife now, the future mother of his children. It was his duty and his right to claim you as his own.

“Lay on the bed.”

With your heart pounding in your ears, you did as you were told but when the mattress dipped under his weight, you did not expect to see him with his clothes still on, the eyepatch firmly in its place. More so, you did not expect the harshness of his gestures as he held your waist to turn you around. The air hitched in your throat as your face met the mattress and a strange sorrow gripped your heart. Did he not want to look at you? Did he not like you?

“Try to stay still and it’ll be over shortly.” he said. He was trying to sound reassuring, but his voice came out cold and flat. His fingers latched on your underskirts, hiking them up, filling you with embarrassment as you grow completely exposed beneath him.

Aemond knew what to do. He may not have been as depraved as his brother, but he was still a man. And once in a while, when his hands would not suffice, some maid or servant girl would’ve had to bear, quite keenly on their part, his intimate attentions.

As his hands began to glide on your thighs, you shivered and said “Wait…”

Slowly your head turned to look at him, cheeks red and breath slow and anxious. “Am I not allowed to look at you?”

Your words seemed to stun him for a moment. The mere thought of you wanting to look at him made him realize how wrong he was behaving. You were his wife, not a common whore to bend over and have his moment of bliss. He had even told Aegon. That was not his intention, but there was a gap between how he felt and how he acted, a limb severed by years of pity looks and feelings trapped in his mouth and swallowed.

Almost gently, he made you turn but once you were facing him, he pinned your wrists on the mattress, unable to touch him even if you had gathered enough courage to do it. You tried to brace yourself for what your mother had told you. But she had not told you that he would touch you there, that all your senses would go numb except for that one brand new feeling between your legs. But he seemed enthralled by it just as you, his mouth parting to let out slow puffs of air as you grow wet and swollen against his fingers.

Your breath was labored, coming out in soft pants that made your cheeks purple. More so because he kept circling his deft fingers on your core while looking straight into your eyes, reveling in the way you were answering to his call, in the way he was shaping your need, your desire.

“You never touched yourself, did you?” he asked in a husky voice.

You barely shook your head and his eye glinted with something dark as he brought his face close to yours “Good. I shall be the only one inside you.”

He swallowed your shaky breath with this mouth, kissing you for the very first time, apart from the shy, almost prude peck exchanged after the wedding vows. Your lips moved shyly, trembling with the coiling pressure between your legs. And just when you thought this heat, this delicious aching couldn’t grow more unbearable, he sticked a finger inside you, spilling a loud moan right against his mouth.

One of your wrists twisted in his harsh hold, willing to touch him, to grip on something, but he didn’t let you. “Easy…” he blew on your lips “Relax. It’ll feel good, I promise…”

It surely felt good to him, to feel the tightness of your cunt squeezing his finger. He curled it and you squinted your eyes, choking a gasp that made him smirk proudly against your jaw. “Gods, you’re so tight…” he breathed as he kept rubbing slowly against your walls.

“It’s—it’s too much—“ you cried out with pain and pleasure running together, breathing his scent of ash, leather and a hint of something minty.

“How will you take my cock if you can’t even take my finger?” He whispered with benevolent cruelty, moving his finger faster and deeper.

Certainly your mother had not told you of the obscene wet sounds you would hear, of the uncontrollable moans coming out of your mouth, of his soft growling next to your ear when his breeches became too tight.

He had lined the tip of his hard manhood to your entrance, catching your breath away as tried to still your nerves, but the pain came altogether. You felt like he was cutting you from the inside. Tears filled your eyes, squinting for the painful stretching. You knew he was restraining himself; he didn’t want to hurt you more than he already was. And you almost felt affection for him, most men would not have bothered.

Then he had started to move, you felt that stranger body rubbing over and over against your walls, and finally the pain soothed, but not completely. You could tell he was enjoying it, his ragged breath and faint moans told you so, as well as the curses hissed through his teeth in a language you guessed was Valyrian. And then he had stilled completely, gripping your hips hard and firm while you felt a hot wave pulsing through your core.

The next morning, you could barely sit down for breakfast, and your aunt had looked at you with concern and a hint of amusement in her eyes. She was a veteran at court, a long-time widow, and quite happy to be so. It was her who suggested your betrothal to the Prince.

"How are you feeling, sweet niece?"

"Awful." you said promptly, shifting your weight on the seat.

"Well, this is the kind of anguish all women must go through."

"I thought that was giving birth to another human being."

"Oh Gods, no. That is the ugly part. This is the good one," she said with a sly smile "I suggest you enjoy it as much as you can."

At the time, you didn't really understand what she meant. The first night with the prince had gone...well, you thought. But he certainly enjoyed it more than you.

The second time was better. Your muscles were still sore, but the pain was but a faint discomfort compared to the pleasure you felt for the very first time in your life.

The third time he went down on you, bringing you so close to the edge only to deny your release, with cruel enjoyment on his part, making you whine with shame at the loss of his mouth and tongue on your folds.

The fourth time he bent you down on the breakfast table, all things falling in a mess of cutlery. He had pulled up your skirts and lowered his breeches just enough to thrust in, unraveling a special spot deep inside of you that had you mewling like some primitive beast.

The fifth time he had you writhing in bed, hair stuck to your head with sweat and hands clenching the sheets while he had you peak three times in a row.

It was then that you started to think your aunt was right.

That was indeed the good part.

“Are you afraid?” he asks, with a soft taunt on the tip of his tongue. You drag your eyes away from the gigantic beast before you and almost scoff. That is enough for him to laugh, quietly, but still not quietly enough for you to not notice and wonder at the view.

It’s been merely one moon since you’ve been married to Prince Aemond, and you could count on the fingers of your hand the times you have seen him laugh. It was eerie at first, you feared all the things you heard about the One Eyed Prince were true. That he was cold as stone and just as hard. And he was. But the more you spent time together, the more you were able to make cracks, and let light through.

“I’m equally afraid as any little mortal of right mind would be in front of the largest dragon in the known world, my dear husband.”

His lips stay quirked up, but his eye widens, as it always does when you call him that. He steps close to you, a few of his long strides are enough for him to tower over you, and the ground below your feet shifts.

“Come.” He says, taking your hand, “I promise she won’t eat you.” This time you deliberately glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Do you need some other kind of persuasion to trust me? Perhaps like the one I used this morning?”

The early afternoon sun makes his face almost hurting to watch, or maybe it's just his bold gloating that makes his appearance so exhausting.

“That was not persuasion.” you remark, hiding the tinge of red on your cheeks “It was coercion.”

“Hmm. You didn’t seem so hostile when I made you come twice before breakfast.”

"I was hostile to the chance of the maid assisting with what we were doing."

"The maid should know better than to enter while my wife is undressing."

His eye roams over you just as he had done that morning, hunger clouding it, making your insides shrink. "Perhaps it's best if she knew. Someone must be aware of how cruel my husband is." there's a soft tease in your tone—something you are still learning, but true nonetheless.

He had ripped your nightgown with his bare hands when the maid entered to help you dress. She fled hastily, but you barely spared a glance at her, already lost to the fierce claim of his hand between your legs. He had taken you, twice, and then ordered you to dress, forcing you to have breakfast with the Queen and the Princess with your thighs still sticky with sex, sticky with him.

And he had been there, sitting just in front of you, with a piercing and delighted gaze.

He pulls your hand, and you follow, getting closer to that living relic that is Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons. She raises her monstrous head and looks straight at you with her amber eyes.

It is the first time you step so close to her, and even if you thought about it a lot, your heart is pounding fast, and your breath comes out slow and labored. She's a dreadful wonder.

She flares her nostrils and smells you, making a low rumble which results in a gust of hot wind that ruffles your hair and skirts.

“Lykirī, Vhagar.” Aemond says quietly “Issa ñuha ābrazȳrys. Kostā pāsagon zirȳla.”

You look at him questioningly, and he answers. “I told her you are my wife. And she can trust you.”

You cast a curious look at the dragon and then back at him “Is that all it takes? You tell dragons to trust you, and they resist the urge to turn you into their meal?”

Aemond curves his lips and makes you step closer, standing behind you and guiding your hand on the old green scales. “It takes much more than that.” he whispers in your ear “You have to surrender to them, completely. A dragon is no slave.”

You feel the heat beneath your palm, but it’s not that that makes you swallow; it’s the heat of his breath on your neck, right into your ear, scorching his way into your brain and inflaming every thought.

“What does Lykirī mean?” you ask, and you hate how your voice cracks on the edges.

He smirks because he knows, he always does. But he does not answer. Instead, he pulls your hand again, and you follow, circling the beast until stopping before the intricate ropes that lead to the saddle.

“Aemond, I don’t think—”

“You are my wife and you will ride with me on dragon back.” He said, commanding.

Truthfully, you gladly want to obey; there is just a slight difference between picturing riding a dragon and doing it.

Even the climbing to get in the saddle is a challenge on its own, but he helps you until you firmly seat yourself in it. Aemond sits behind you, and you look around with widened eyes, as if you are looking down from the highest tower ever built, except this is a living one, made of fire and breathing fire.

He leans over you to grab the reins, and you tense, waiting with bathed breath.

“Dohaeras, Vhagar. Soves!”

She lets out a loud screech that makes your ears hurt, but you have no time to even register it because she's already moving. You grip Aemond’s arms and brace yourself against his chest when Vhagar lurches onward and opens her huge wings to take flight.

She goes up and up, above the clouds, and your head is dizzy, with fear, with euphoria, until you are laughing like a child, like you never did in your entire life. Aemond lets go of the reins and laces his arms around you, angling his head to look at you, his silver hair violently ruffled by the wind. “How does it feel, my sweet wife?”

There are no common words to describe it. Now you know why they say Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. No man could claim a dragon or rule the skies.

“I feel like I’m close to the Gods.” you say, and he tightens the hold on you “Dragons do not answer to Gods.” he says, burying his nose in your hair “Where does this leave us?”

You turn your head to look at him, and you feel like you are looking at one of them. And yet he looks like he’s beyond any God.

“Above them. Above the Gods.”

“Hmm.” He croons, breathing your scent through his nose, and then his right hand grabs your skirt and dips underneath, until you feel his cold fingers grazing your skin. “I will make you feel like one.”

He cups your core through your small clothes, and you whimper, gripping his arm harder. He feels your heat through his palm, hotter than Vhagar’s own fire, and he sets the fabric aside to properly touch you. “My sweet wife.” he whispers, sliding a finger between your folds “Always so ready for me.”

“Aemond.” You say, holding your breath, trying to oppose but your voice cracks, and your body with it, already answering to his call. You see clouds before your eyes, but it’s all a blur, all your senses are enslaved by his touch, rubbing lazy circles on your bud. Too slow for your liking, for your need. Your hips arch and buck, chasing his hand for more friction, and he laughs, darkly. “What is it? What do you need, sweet girl? Tell me.”

He takes your chin with his free hand and forces you to turn your head and look at him. His hold is ruthless, but his tone is almost pleading. “Tell me.” he orders and you feel like he’s smothering you, sweeping away all the air from your lungs. “I-I need more…”

“More of what?” he asks, stopping altogether. “Show me.”

You look him in the eye and swallow, heat inflaming your cheeks, but there’s no place for shame, not here. It is just a faint ghost passing through you, and then it’s gone. Your hand pulls the gown up, and you place it on his, like a feather. “Here.” You breathe on his mouth “Inside.”

The howling wind does nothing to muffle his growl, and then he’s kissing you, harshly, teeth clashing and biting your lips as he accepts your plea, sliding a finger inside of you.

A strangled moan escapes you, and he swallows it, darting his tongue in every corner of your mouth. He releases your chin only to grab your leg to further open them and then he adds a second finger, moving them deftly until reaching that special spot. Your head falls back on his shoulder, gasping loudly, digging your nails into his hand.

Your breath is ragged and fast, and you uselessly try to stifle moan after moan even if there are only the skies to hear.

“Don’t.” he says grazing your lobe with his teeth “I want to hear you. I want you to scream for me.”

Your mind goes blank, as does all your restraint. You feel the tide coming to crash you, hips moving on their own accord, chasing and chasing. And then you’re drowning in it, mouth falling open and flesh and bones clenching and trembling.

He grunts softly when your nails scratch his skin and his fingers slip out, glistening; he raises them to his lips and tastes every drop of you. Still panting, he takes your chin once more with his sticky fingers and licks your lips, so you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your head is still dizzy when Vhagar lands in a clearing in the King’s Wood, but this has nothing to do with altitude. Your limbs are heavy when he helps you dismount, your legs buckle. There is a tautness knotting your bones, itching your fingertips.

You wish to touch him, because you have never, not as a wife would touch her husband, not as he has done with you.

It is only a moon and yet he has taken you almost every night and every day. He has touched you everywhere, he has molded you to his liking, and you let him do it with giddiness, undoing yourself like clay in his hands. He had put his mouth on you, and you have discovered he particularly enjoyed it, because he has done that at the most inopportune times, even in some dark corner of the corridors.

And you wondered if you could do the same with him—not because you have to, but because you want to. You want to claim him just as he claims you, relentlessly.

And he really is. He is relentless, he doesn't give you the time to wander with your hands, to discover, to touch. Fire burns him quickly and you are ashes before you realise you are burning with him.

“I didn’t know my wife had claws.” He says at one point, while you are going back to the Keep.

You wake from your thoughts and turn, watching him raise his hand to show the red marks on the back of his hand, and the sight makes you almost proud—proud to have left a mark of you on him. But you want more, and he wants more. You know it; it takes a brief look at his breeches to know that he wants more.

You dart your eyes around, but there's no one. So, you stop. Trying to gather all the boldness you never had, you step closer to him and take his hand in yours. Your eyes look up slowly, glinting with uncertainty and bravery. "Then let me soothe your pain, husband."

Aemond’s eye widens, and the air around you turn heavy, forcing you to open your mouth to breathe. You take one more step and bring the back of his hand to your lips, kissing it gently while your eyes stay fixed on his face. The other hand goes tentatively to his chest and then slides down, and for once, just once, he’s the one answering your call. His eye darkens and his lips part when your hands bashfully grab the laces of his breeches.

But you should have known better. Targaryens and their desires. Doomed to take whatever they want, whenever they want, answering neither Gods nor men.

You barely blink and he grabs you by the wrists and forces you to the ground. Cold grass and bushes stinging your back make you gasp, but Aemond is already on you, watching you like a century-long thirsted man who takes a glimpse of a water spring, as if you could evaporate from his sight at any moment.

“Aemond, please.” you beg “let me—“

But his tongue is in your mouth, hot and scorching you alive. Your eyes flutter shut, and he hikes your skirts up, taking hold of your hips. You feel his bulge against you, hard and ready, and you can do nothing else than wait, pinned down like prey, all bravery a distant memory.

Suddenly he lowers himself down, lifting your skirts with haste until you’re completely bare half down. “No—Aemond, please I want to—”

“You want what?” he asks with a wolfish grin “Deny me your sweet taste? Iksā ñuhon, ābrazȳrys.” He said that already, you know what it means. You are mine.

“You belong to me. And this…” he swears placing your legs on his shoulders while looking at your aching core as a man who found the greatest treasure in the world. “This belongs to me as well.”

He runs his tongue up and down your wet folds, humming with delight as he tastes you and sees you squirm, arching your back on the stingy bushes. You moan loudly when he slowly swirls his tongue, not able to keep track of your hips starting to move on their own, thrusting into his mouth and the sight of you like this, makes him even wilder, pushing him to open his mouth and put it entirely on your cunt, sucking harshly until anything before your eyes becomes blurred.

Your legs on his shoulders begin to shake and curl, caging him further against you, but just when you are about to come straight into his mouth, he pulls back. A weak sob leaves your mouth as your hips keep bucking against nothing and he smirks at that, untangling your legs from his shoulders, running his tongue over his lips, to taste what's left of you on him. You look at him through dazed eyes and a tinge of annoyance for the denied release. “What?” he has the boldness to ask with a sly smirk “Did you not enjoy it?” he runs his thumb on his glistening chin and swiftly licks it. "Hmm. I most certainly did."

“Aemond, please.” you claw desperately at his shoulders and forearms, forcing him to lie on you, feel something that could soothe the aching between your legs. He seems keen to grant you this mercy, molding his crotch against you so you can feel how hard and desperate he is.

“Please.” you beg in a thin voice.

“Speak it plainly, my love. I want to hear it from your pretty mouth.”

You look at him straight in the eye and what you say next is not a request nor a plea. Your mother would be ashamed of you, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You are not begging. You are demanding. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t need more than a few moments to get his cock out of his breeches, and not a moment later he’s pushing inside of you, your back arching on the bushes and your throat fighting for breath. He groans and starts a relentless pace, lifting his weight from you just enough for him to look at his cock going in and out, the sight only pushing him to thrust harder and harder. “Look at you.” he croons, sweet and rough “You were born to take me, to be mine.”

Your face twists with pleasure, teeth biting your lower lip while he takes you higher and higher, higher than any sky a dragon could ever take you.

He soon becomes messy and sloppy, cursing under his breath, but you can barely hear him. Your mind is sluggish and everything comes muffled: him, the birds chirping on some tree, your wet flesh slapping against his in the lewdest and most blessed way.

He curses some more, and then he’s spilling inside you, his arched mouth opening and his eye closing like a man absolved.

And yet, he does not stop. He has not claimed enough.

“Māzis, dōna ābrazȳrys. Come for me.”

Your hand clutches something on the ground, something with thorns that pierces your skin with pain, but you can’t even feel that, because you are falling, legs trembling around him, and heart stopping for an endless moment of pure breathtaking bliss.

“Gevie.” he coos with his lips on yours, falling with his body on you, still clenching and pulsing around him. He stays right where he is, nesting inside of you, and now it is the only chance you have been granted to touch him. You put an arm around his shoulders, catching your breath, and look at the skies above, thinking you are indeed above them.

It was easy to explain the dirt and grass stains on your dress. It was a little less easy to explain the twigs in your ruffled hair when you and Aemond returned to the Keep only to meet the Queen Mother along one of the corridors. Alicent merely smiled at you with a tight smile and did not spare from giving a look full of daggers to her son.

"Seven Hells" you mutter when you go back to your rooms and catch a glimpse of the mess you are in the mirror.

Aemond stays on the threshold to close the door and grins, or rather, gloats.

You step out of your muddy shoes and start to pull the laces of your dress.

"What are you doing?" he asks, and you playfully glare at him. "Am I allowed to take a bath now? Or do you want me to go around all sullied? I fear there are no believable excuses for the state I’m in."

"You can tell them the truth." he says, walking to you and replacing your hands with his to help you pull the intricate laces.

You smile softly with your back turned before raising an eyebrow, asking "Which is?"

He keeps his eye focused on the dress, a slight furrow in his brow, and stoically serious, he says "That your husband fucked you in the King's Wood."

"I could tell the maid. I'm sure she won't be stunned after what she saw this morning."

He makes you turn so you can look at him, and the sight before you makes your heart sing. His eye roams on your face softly, a rare sight on him, always stoic, always sharp, like all the angles composing this beautiful sculpture of black glass.

You always thought of marriage as a strategic deal for men, and a way for women to prove their value to the world, giving those same men sons and daughters. But you care for him. And he cares for you. That look on his face is enough for you to know that he cares for you, not merely as a brood mare.

“Gevie.” he says, quietly, and he touches your cheek, softly, making you wonder how those same hands can be so delicate and yet so merciless at the same time.

“What does it mean?” you ask, even if you are sure he will not answer. You observed that when he speaks in High Valyrian he does it almost to himself, as if to protect something he does not wish the others to know.

But this time, he meets your eyes and lowers his hand. “Beautiful.”

You look at him with your heart pounding in your throat, and then you stand up on your toes, crashing your mouth against his, almost catching him by surprise. But he is all too deft at turning the game on his side, and a few seconds later, his hands are gripping your hips and his tongue is licking the roof of your mouth.

When the door suddenly opens, you pull back, spotting the same maid from that morning who, this time, can do nothing but suffer the Prince's wrath.

"Can't you just fuck off for once?!"

You hold back a laugh against his chest and the poor maid flees in a hurry. But when he pulls you to him, tilting his head to pick up where he left off, you step back and say, "I'm afraid the Queen has requested your presence. You should go, my dear husband. I promise that by tonight I will be completely clean."

"Tonight?" he asks, raising his eyebrow. "What is happening tonight?"

You shrug your shoulders and hold back a smile. "Innocence doesn't suit you, my Prince."

"Neither does you."

"I'm afraid this is your fault. You are sullying my soul as well as...everything else."

"You won't be of the same mind when you have my child growing in your womb," and he smirks, looking at you as if he's taking a sacred oath, and then walks away.

You finally manage to take a bath and change clothes, and then you go to visit your aunt. She spends most of her time alone, sipping tea in the gardens, partly because she can't stand the other court ladies, partly because the court ladies can't stand her. Truthfully, you cannot blame them, your aunt speaks plainly—too plainly at times.

You sit down with her for tea, which you end up swallowing like salt, because your aunt takes it with a whole squeezed lemon, and no sugar.

"I saw you with your husband earlier. I may be too old for new fashion but mud on your skirt and twigs in your hair seem a bit too brazen, even for me."

You stifle a smile, recalling what happened. If only she knew he was brazen enough to have you utterly undone on dragon back, thousands of feet up.

Your eyes go distant while you fumble with some tablecloth threads, but your Aunt stares at you piercely, and grabbing her cup of tea she says "I love that look on you."

"What?"

She sips the sour liquid and puts the cup down. "That look. The I'm in love look."

"I am not!" you counter, cheeks going red.

"Of course you are. I've watched you two. I dare say he's falling way faster than you."

You look at her puzzled. Many things have changed in a moon. And you are sure you are utterly infatuated with him. But you did not know what to think of what he actually feels for you, if he even feels something. You know he cares for you, you know he loves spending time with you. You know he's passionate, possessive, almost soft at rare times. But in love? That seems too soon to consider, or to hope for.

"It is too soon to talk about love."

"In fact, I did not, my sweet niece. Falling in love and love are beasts of different species. Why do you think we say "falling"? You can't stop from falling. To love a person is an entirely different matter. Love is a choice."

You let those words sink but you prefer not to question your heart right now. There is a reason you have come here to talk to your aunt, even if you don't know how to address the matter without melting from embarrassment.

But in the end, who could you ask for advice? Your squeamish maids? The Queen Mother? Definitely not.

"Listen, I...I wanted to ask you something..." you start "It is uhm...a matter of somewhat intimate nature."

"Ah, my favourites." your aunt says, beaming "I am all ears."

You shift uncomfortably in your chair and swallow another sip of that dreadful tea "My mother...she explained to me what would happen between husband and wife to...consummate the marriage. But she didn't tell me...well, everything else."

Your Aunt is quick to raise her eyebrow "I gathered that your marriage had been consummated by now. Thoroughly."

"Y-yes, of course. But I...discovered...that there are other ways for a husband to please his wife...and I was wondering if...if I could…do those same things to please him."

Your aunt looks utterly puzzled for a long moment, and then, almost stunned, she says "Oh Seven Hells, child. You are telling me you never sucked your husband off?"

A few court ladies walking near turned their heads, going white as sheets, while you, on the contrary, take a nice purple shade.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, prissies. We all did it eventually." she dismisses them, waving a lazy hand, and looks back at you. "You should do it, if you wish. Men love it. Your uncle used to ask—"

"I don't want to hear that, auntie, I'm begging you." you say squinting your eyes.

"Listen to me, child. Men love to think they rule everything, everywhere. But it is not always like that. And if you want to rule your husband's heart, you must rule in his bed first."

That evening, Aemond wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his room with his wife and forget all the hateful political talk he had had to endure at dinner.

You had not attended, and that had bothered him. Never would he have thought of marriage as anything more than a duty, yet there he was, wondering where you were, who you were with, and why you weren't in his rooms when he set foot in there.

"Where is my wife?" he asks the maid, and she keeps her eyes glued to the floor, saying "The princess spent the evening in the library, your Grace. She told me that she would be—"

"I am here," you say, appearing behind the young maid.

You see his chest sag as if a weight is leaving him, and he casts an icy glance at the poor maid "Out."

He is rarely kind to servants, but you can tell by his tense shoulders that something is wrong.

"Aemond, what is the matter?" you ask as soon as the door closes, walking up to him with a hand behind your back.

"Where were you? Why weren't you at dinner?"

"I was in the library."

"For four hours?"

"It was a tough read—"

He grabs your arm, gripping hour wrist harshly, and you flinch. "Aemond, I swear to you.” you say watching his eye on fire and a sneer twisting his mouth “You can ask Maester Mellos."

Suddenly he lets you go, and looks down, closing his eye for a moment. But he doesn't apologize, he never does, and not because he is a Prince. It's just the way he is. He doesn't apologize, he doesn't say thank you, he doesn't say please.

"Aemond, what's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it now. In fact, never. Not here."

You watch him carefully, and you nod as he moves to pour wine into a cup. You watch him gobble it up greedily, which is unlike him. So, you get close and move your hand from behind your back and say, "Anyway, I wasn't lying. I really spent four hours in the library...trying to decipher this."

You show him an old book, and the title catches his eye, cup held in midair. "Tales of the Dragonlords?" he asks frowning. "This is in High Valyrian."

"It is." you confirm as you move closer, and you steal his cup before saying, "Would you read it to me?" and you take a sip, of wine and courage.

He watches the liquid flow down your throat and then accepts the invitation, taking the book—the one he has read so many times he can recite it by heart. He opens it to the first page, but you say "No. Page 72."

There is a slight imperative tone in your tone of voice, and it thrills him, given how his eye glints under the candlelight. He drops it on the table, looking at you from head to toe, and says, "I'll read it to you later, sweet wife."

He steps closer but you back away saying, "Fine, then. I'll tell you what I understood so you can correct me or not." and at the same moment your own hands go up on your corset and you start pulling on the laces.

The gesture catches his eye like a moth to a flame and he stays silent as you pull all the laces and then slip off your dress, remaining in your underskirt. His gaze roams over you slowly, and with a soft smirk, he decides to play the game.

“Page 72, you said. How Dragonlords claimed Dragons.”

“Yes.”

"And why did it capture your interest? Do you wish to do it? Do you wish to claim a dragon?"

"I wish to conquer, not claim."

He comes closer and looks at you, breathing through his nose, restraining, always restraining, and then he's raising his hand to reach a lock of your hair falling on your shoulder, but you stop him, air as heavy as moss.

"The Valyrian sages say a dragonlord must surrender himself completely to the dragon. But it works both ways. The dragon must submit his will to their rider."

He looks at you without blinking, and you take his arms, guiding him closer until you turn and push him lightly on the bed. He sits and you slowly climb on his lap, knees caging his hips, heart is pounding in your throat like a hammer. You hear him taking a swift breath and pride pools in your bones because for once you have caught him off guard.

You can feel his crotch hardening by the moment, but the look on his face is not one of hunger or lust. It is pure and blessed devotion.

You wonder at the view, and your eyes roam on his face until...

"Can I take it off?"

There's no need to say what. His face goes hard as stone, eye looking away with discomfort, with shame.

"Please, Aemond." you whisper. "I want to see all of you. I want you to bare yourself to me as I did to you."

"It is not pleasant."

"I don't want pleasantness. I want you."

He stares at you for an eternal moment and then he caves.

A flash of sparkling blue catches you completely and you can do nothing but watch with lips parted, while he keeps his eye down.

You wrap an arm around his shoulders and lean your head against his to breathe one single word in his ear. "Gevie."

His arms are all around you, holding you so tight you might gasp for air. Instead you are smiling, breathing through his long silver hair. You are not sure if you aunt is right, if love is indeed a choice. You can't bring yourself to care because you are doing it already.

And then he's kissing you, seizing your tongue with his in a fierce consuming way. He slightly hikes up your hips, and his hand tries to slide between your legs, but you lace your fingers around his wrist, breaking the kiss with panted breath.

"No." you whisper, and he looks at you almost questioningly, mouth open and chest heaving.

"Lykirī."

His eye widens and you smile, secretly. "I know what it means now."

He smirks at this and does not miss the chance to be the ever diligent scholar. "But you said it wrong. The R is hard."

“Lykirī.” You say again, following his lesson, and in the same moment your hand leaves his wrist and goes down to his breeches. He dips his chin to look at it, at your hands unsure, and he too looks unsure.

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.” You say, and your voice comes out firm and clear. “Please, Aemond. Let me…let me touch you.”

He realizes now that in all the times you have been lying together, you never managed to lay a hand on him. He likes to keep people at distance. Too many wrong hands have been on him. The Maesters’, inspecting, debating, healing without healing. That whore, taking what it was not hers to take, not yet.

But he wants you to touch him. He has dreamed of it, in any way a man could dream of a woman’s touch.

He looks at you for a moment, chest rising slowly, and then, without taking his eye off you, he pulls the laces of his breeches and guides your hand around his cock. You look down, exhaling a long breath at feeling his hard and hot flesh already pulsing.

He knows you don’t know how to do it, so his hands guide you at first, going slowly up and down, and the air comes out of his mouth slowly and labored. You look up at him, his eye is pitch black, lid growing heavy with pleasure, and your core clenches, desire pools in your belly and flows down.

He must hear the call of your body, because he releases your hand, still stroking him, and goes right between your legs. You gasp loudly, and he hums, delight dripping from his voice just as you are dripping on his fingers. He starts to pump his fingers and you can do nothing but moan, clutching his shoulders with your free hand, the other still around his cock, but the act is growing lazy, your mind can’t focus properly on what you are supposed to do.

“Listen.” he orders you, fingers moving faster and faster, and you do listen. Your soaked flesh coming undone at his scorching touch. “Who else has you like this?”

But this is a question he’s asking himself. Because no one else will ever have him bare like this.

“You. Just you.” you say hoarsely, eyes closing and hips rocking on their own accord.

“And who am I?” he whispers just as hoarsely, and yet his voice is like a whip on all your senses.

“My husband.” you cry, feeling the wave ready to drown you “Ñuha zaldrīzes.” My dragon.

You cannot care less about how you said it, because then your mouth falls open, nails digging into his shoulder while your trembling hips keep riding his fingers, clenching them like a vice.

Your head falls onward, leaning against his forehead, and you try to catch your breath. You watch his wet fingers go straight into his mouth while he looks at you, humming with pleasure. “You look so pretty like this.” he says with the ghost of a smile on his lips “I should fuck you in Throne Room with the whole court watching, so they know how pretty you are when you come for me.”

You laugh with your cheeks flushing, and he slides an arm around you, and you know he wants to pin you down on the bed and fuck you until you are muffling nonsense in the pillow. But this is not his game. This is yours, and even if you don’t know how to play, you will win.

“No.” you say, climbing down from his lap, and he looks at you with hunger and a tinge of thrilling curiosity. “It is my turn to claim.” You say with all the bravery you possess.

Not a moment later, you are going down on your knees.

Another small victory, because his eye widens as he had never done before, and you can see that this, the sight of you on your knees before him, is something he has been craving for, even dreamed of it.

His breathing is slow, and you are not even touching him.

You place yourself between his knees and you lean closer and closer, anxiety twisting your insides, but you want to do this. “Lykirī, nuha zaldrīzes. Surrender.” you take him into your hand, tugging slowly, and your lips linger on the tip, heart pounding in your ears and eyes fixed on him. “Lykirī.” You say one last time and then you are swallowing him.

He hisses loudly and his lips part, hands clutching the covers until his knuckles go white. He’s like burning metal inside your mouth—hot and hard. At first, you just taste him, running your tongue over the head, and he’s cursing under his breath. His hands twitch on the covers, restraining and restraining, but there’s no need. You take his hand while looking at him and you release it from your mouth to say “Teach me.”

It’s like you have just poured fire on more fire. His eye goes wild, he takes hold of your head and starts to guide you again, making your mouth engulf him once more and deep down to the base and then up to the tip again, filling the room with a wet gagging sound. You get the gist of what you’re supposed to do, so your head starts going up and down and up and down, and he actually moans for you, head falling back for just a moment before looking back, he can’t help but watch as you fiercely claim him.

You watch his chest heaving fast and your jaw is starting to hurt but you don't care, you are too absorbed by the view before you. You are too thrilled by the fact that, for once, you have made him speechless.

He's always so bold in the bedroom, so cruel in deciding when and how to give pleasure, and now he's utterly speechless. He can only curse without breath, and gasp and groan.

“Kelītīs.” he manages to say at one point, voice all husky and cracking. You don’t know that word, and you have no time to ask because in a blink, he’s slamming you onto the bed and he’s hiking up your skirt, but you get on your elbows pushing him on his back and climbing on him.

“I’m not done, valzȳrys.” you say feeling his hard length inflaming your core, so you lay your hips on it as firmly as possible. “I claimed, but I did not conquer.”

“You are fucking torturing me.” he points out, bucking against you.

“Conquests could last for centuries, dear husband. You above all should know that.”

“All I know now is that I need to fuck you.” he says placing both hands on the sheets to pull himself up.

“No, I will.” you promise, rocking your hips once more “This is my conquest, not yours.”

You keep rubbing your drenched core on his length until a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and he's so hard he's leaking from the tip. "You are twisted, wife." he says with a dazed tone and you smile even if you can't take it anymore, but you rock some more, saying "I'm a quick study. And I'm learning from the best."

Finally, when you are so wet you are dripping on him, you raise just enough to slide his cock inside of you.

You gasp together and you brace on his shoulders to start moving. You both know you are not going to last long, so you start rocking your hips slowly, taking him to the hilt until you struggle for air.

“Move…” he orders but you just take the opposite road, slowing your hips in a delicious torturing way. “Do you know what else the Sages said? A rider must know their mount, feel their heat below them.”

But Aemond does not have a single drop of blood in his head right now to give you an answer, let alone play your game; he's just fire that burns and burns and burns and just like the Sages said, you can feel his heat, burning below and inside you. He grips your hips and starts to thrust inside you like the wild beast you are supposedly claiming, until you are moaning so loud your throat hurts.

“Yes—” he growls as you bounce on him “Just like that—you’re gripping me so well—fuck"

You both turn sloppy, a mess of sweaty limbs and teeth biting, clutching at each other with bruising grips, pulling at the roots of his hair when you’re about to fall from the highest sky.

"Come on, my sweet girl. Let go for me." he breathes into your mouth, forcing you to move even faster "Let go fro your dragon. Seal your conquest." And you do.

He follows right after, spilling inside while digging his teeth into your neck like fangs on a prey, muffling his loud groaning.

And you are smiling like a fool, a lovestruck fool, but most of all, a conqueror.

Thank you so much for reading!! 💞💞

#likiri #liv(in la vida loca)#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond x wife reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x wife reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond fic #aemond smut #hotd fic

4K notes · View notes

baldursgate3tempobsessed · 6 months

Text

Astarion Jealousy Part 2

The graphic extension to this but a lil less serious and definitely not sfw.

CW: Jealous spawn astarion who is still a sweetheart, but the drow twins get under his skin. graphic sex scenes, oral, relatively tame honestly. The sex part will be under the cut btw which is m/f. Also vampire man drinks blood. mentionable incorrect language for sex workers

It was odd, being home in Baldur’s Gate without the threat of Cazador always looming. Odd, but equally as wonderful. It had been so thoughtful, if not a little idiotic for Cazador to end up being your first stop in the city. The fight itself had been a blur, a barrage of intense emotions and bloody violence. Astarion had come so close to losing himself back there, losing everything that made him better than the man who almost ruined him. But then… you stopped him. You saw something more in him, a chance for a better life. A more meaningful life, away from the shackles of vampiric power obsessions.

He was officially free. Now he could exist without any fear of his disgusting master’s retribution. He could just… be. Well… not including his darling’s own myriad of enemies that seemed to follow them about everywhere. And there was still the matter of defeating the elder brain, and lord knows if any of you made it through that alive. But at least his personal demons were slain and out of the picture.

Every little step counted after all. Perhaps some of your delusional hopefulness had finally started to rub off on him, but Astarion was actually starting to look forward to his future. Your future, together. All he had to do was get through a few more perilous adventures and then he’d really have you all to himself.

All that said, Astarion could really go without the frequent visits to the local brothel. Was it the best place in the city for gathering information? Yes. It seemed that every walk of life in Baldur’s Gate found their way into Shar’s Caress and if you were going to find alternative passage to the underworld, this would be the best place to find it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. For one there were the unwelcome advances to his own person, the concept of grace and personal space apparently left at the door. He was so very close to breaking the hand of the next person who thought it was appropriate to grab his ass. And if they could afford to get kicked out he would have by now. Your verbal, angry tirades in his defense could only scare off so many.

But as terrible as his own discomfort was, it was nothing in the face of how often you were being fawned over. What was it about you that seemed to drive everyone mad? Yes you were objectively attractive, but this was frankly getting out of hand. First there was the green skinned druid doing something sensual to your mind, then there were the general stares and whispers as you walked by, and now a pair of gorgeous drow twins trying and failing to proposition you.

It was getting tiresome. There were only so many times a man could take his lover being offered “free” services before he snapped.

On one hand, he could respect the dedication they had to the craft. He could be considered something of a hired whore himself in his time, the old, “the first one’s free” was a tried and true trick. And he also knew, vaguely, that no one was actually trying to steal you from him. But on the other, he couldn’t help the fact that he wanted to claw their eyes out for looking at you so brazenly.

He hadn’t expected the eyes of the woman to wander over to him, like she was just noticing the possessive arm he had wrapped around your waist, “Is that your partner with you? How would you both feel about having a little fun?”

Absolutely fucking not. Maybe the old Astarion would have smiled and nodded, ready to do whatever was asked of him. But the man from that wretched era had died, or at the very least was dying. And he would be damned if he let you lay with another, never less participate in it.

Astarion interrupted your overly-polite attempts stuttering of a refusal. He glared at them both, a sneer painted on his face, “We’ll be passing on that. You’d think the first no would have sufficed, but I suppose it’s not fair to expect everyone to have basic language comprehension. Now as illuminating as this conversation has been, we have places to be. Excuse us.”

Then he was pulling you away, happy to ignore the offended huffs of indignation he had left in his wake.

“We’re supposed to be investigating, remember?” You said with a giggle, not even questioning him as he dragged you to the second floor, “Being rude is not the way we’ll find travel to the hells.”

“I highly doubt they would have been of use,” Astarion said as he pushed you into the first empty room he could find. He felt off, maybe even a little crazed as he turned to you, “Tell me darling, what is it about you that makes you so irresistible, hm?”

He crowded you against the closed door, ducking his head into the crook of your neck to breath you in. You smelled heavenly, you always did. He could trace the barest whiff of your blood from beneath your skin, always calling to him. You were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. Delicious even, for more reasons than one.

“T-They just wanted my coin,” You gasped when he started to suck bruises into your skin, “That’s all.”

“I think they wanted a bit more than that,” Astarion bit out as he shoved his thigh between your legs, “What will it take for others to realize you’re mine.”

His hands were wandering, resting low to grip your hips. He was using them to move you, forcing you to grind against his thigh. You grasped at his shoulders, trying to bite back a moan as you stared at him with wide eyes, “You want to do it here? Does that door even lock?”

It looked like it didn’t, not that Astarion cared. Maybe walking in on him ravishing you would finally start getting the point across of who you belonged to. Astarion shrugged, "There are less appropriate venues than literal whore houses."

“But-”

“But I can tell you want it,” Astarion interrupted with a smirk, his hands barely working to move your body anymore. But that wasn’t stopping you from rubbing yourself all over him, “Just look at you darling. Desperate little thing. But if you really don’t want to…”

Astarion made a lazy attempt to step back, laughing out loud when your desperately pulled him back, your desire finally winning out over your common sense. But you were glaring at him, obviously annoyed that he was so good at riling you up. He had seen that look before, the one that just screamed that you were scheming something.

He just hadn’t expected you to drop to your knees in front of him, huffing as you started to undo the fastenings to his pants, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a shit?”

“Maybe,” Astarion said with a strained laugh, his breath catching when you pulled his half-hard cock out, “But it seems to keep getting me the things I want.”

You rolled your eyes before licking a wide strip up his cock, like you weren’t directly proving his point. You looked amazing own there, you’re half-hearted glare morphing into a blissful haze.

Gods, how were you real? Astarion wasn’t quite sure why you were such a fan of getting him down your throat, but he knew that he was a lucky bastard for it.

“Sweet girl,” Astarion sighed, letting a hand drift down to tangle in your hair, “Sweet girl with a perfect mouth. And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

You made a small, affirmative noise around his cock, taking him in deeper as you clutched at his thighs. You were so good at this, so well-trained after months of being together. He loved the soft, wet sounds that would escape your lips as you swallowed him down, the pretty way your eyes would water as you encouraged him to fuck your throat, how you would squirm in place on your knees, no doubt ruining your panties with how wet you were getting.

And no one else would ever know. No one would get to see you like this again, feel you like this. Needy, desperate, and his. Oddly enough, that thought was what sent him over the edge. He came down your throat, groaning as you eagerly swallowed around him.

You pulled off of him slowly, panting while you smiled up at him. There was the smallest string of spit mixed with his come, connecting from the head of his cock to your lips. You licked it up, still clinging to his thighs as you hazily stared up at him. Sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat, and his dick give a valiant twitch.

He pulled you to your feet, not wasting any time in smashing your lips together. He spun you around, pushing you towards what he prayed was a clean bed.

He pushed you back onto the sheets, making quick work of tearing your pants down your legs as he grinned down at you, “Your turn.”

He kneeled in front of you; spreading his hands over your splayed thighs to peel off your underwear. The core of you was already glistening, slick enough to make Astarion’s mouth water. He licked his lips as he spread your legs further apart, shameless as he feasted on you with his eyes.

You were shaking in his hold, biting your bottom lip when you whined, “Stop staring already…”

“But you’re so pretty here my sweet,” Astarion cooed, tracing a single finger over the seam of your cunt, “And you’re dripping. Poor thing, have I kept you waiting too long?”

You nodded excitedly above him, your hips bucking when he let his fingers dip in further between your pussy lips. He lightly traced your clit, softly laughing at the way the simple touch made you whine.

It was his own fault that you were so needy, a fact that brought a smirk to his lips. You always got so wet after you had him down your throat, soaked and gorgeous.

Astarion dove right in, loudly moaning as he licked into your folds. He dragged his lips upward to suckle on your clit, basking in all the cries and whimpers escaping you.

He licked back down, teasing your hole with his tongue as your legs quivered around his head. He let the sharpness of his fangs scrape against you as he started to fuck you with his tongue, threatening your most intimate places.

He knew you liked that; little minx that you were. The slight risk of pain that was always looming. It made him want to sink his fangs in you for real, a hunger that he'd sate after he had you gushing into his mouth.

You were already close, he could tell from the way your cunt was tightening around his tongue; too worked up from the thrill of being in public and the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Astarion trailed talented fingers up to rub against your clit, his tongue still curling inside of you as you cried out. Finally falling over the edge. But that wasn't stopping him from continuing to play with you.

You had to tug on Astarion’s hair for him to finally pull away, too over sensitive to handle his talented tongue. You were still trembling by the time he leaned back, licking his lips. He rested his head on your thigh, obviously pleased with himself as he grinned up at you. He could feel your heart racing against his cheek, the sound of your blood pumping singing through your veins. It had his mouth watering for a completely different reason.

He let his fangs drag against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, looking up at you through his lashes, "Can I?"

A superfluous question. Not when he already knew the answer before it escaped your lips.

“Y-yeah," You mumbled, lovingly gazing down at him. He would never tire of seeing that look on your face, "But be gentle? Please?”

"Of course my love," Astarion murmured, before promptly sinking his fangs into your flesh. He had to hold you down from the way you were still trembling, your quivering only getting worse at the pleasure mixed with pain. He didn’t let himself go rabid, just enough to get a taste. He was pulling back too soon, smiling to himself at the little whine you let out. He gently licked over the wound before standing, not yet swallowing the last drops on his tongue.

Instead he leaned forward to kiss you, more than happy to share the sweet taste of your blood as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“Thank you my dear,” Astarion sighed as he pulled away, “That was exactly what I needed. Now I think that’s enough investigating for one day.”

You sighed, taking the time to card your fingers through his hair, “Agreed. Though you might have to carry me out of here now.”

Wasn’t that a wonderful idea?

Astarion hummed as he pulled your clothing back on, “I think I like the sound of that," He didn't give you time to respond, too busy sweeping you up in his arms with a grin, "I'll be taking you up on that."

You squeaked when he hefted you up, bridal style, “I wasn’t being serious!”

But it was too late, Astarion was already kicking the door open. He shrugged at you, completely shameless as he winked at a few onlookers, "Then you shouldn't have suggested it."

You groaned, hiding your face in his shirt as he happily took you outside, “I’m going to get you back for this. I hope you know that.”

Astarion laughed as he kissed the top of your head, “I’m sure you will.”

It was a childish stunt, borderline on par with a jealous tantrum, but gods, did it feel good. Good enough to sate Astarion's obsessive tendencies for an impressive amount of time. Under normal circumstances.

But what about your lives were normal?

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands #long fic #spoilers #and thats how later astarion found himself on stage with a killer clown #whoops #still fluffy i'd say #I got a soft (in comparison to cough alternatives) jealousy trilogy in mind so one more dirty part. Also #side note #in reality everyone in your party is attractive and probably gets flirted with an equal amount at the caress #but I love the idea of astarion being hyper focused on you.

3K notes · View notes

masterhallmark · 1 month

Text

Rant incoming

I feel like the problem with a lot of Disney's live action remakes (and arguably Wish) is they're trying to appeal to a crowd that no longer exists, namely the people who used to claim that the Disney Princesses were sexist.

All the interviews tend to include, "Well she's not chasing a MAN anymore" which...almost no one sees the princesses like that, anymore. Virtually NO ONE still believes the princesses are man-chasing sexist caricatures of women.

Cinderella is now hailed as an abuse victim who stayed strong long enough to get help to get out of her situation. Anyone who says she should have saved herself is basically regarded as a victim blamer. And it's very clear in the film she wasn't looking to marry the prince, she just wanted a night off. She was the only one who wasn't in line to meet him. She didn't find out she met the prince until he went looking for her!

Snow White is now hailed for her negotiation skills, ability to calm down after extreme stress (she had a moment of panic and had to cry for a bit, but who wouldn't after finding out The Queen hired someone to kill you?), and ability to take charge of a house of adult men. And again, she was an abuse victim, this time trying to escape ASSASSINATION ATTEMPTS. While she dreamed of her prince, it was secondary to her main goal of SURVIVAL. There are also entire video essays about how Snow White gave hope to people during The Great Depression.

Everyone acknowledges that Ariel wanted to be human BEFORE meeting Eric. We all know she was a nerd hyperfixating on humans, and also standing up to her prejudiced father.

We understand Sleeping Beauty wasn't the main character, the Three Good Fairies were, AND PHILLIP WOULD NEVER HAVE BEATEN MALEFICENT WITHOUT THEM! He literally depended on them! WOMEN SAVED THE DAY! But even then, is it really such a sin for a girl to fantasize about romance and fall for someone with corny pickup lines?

We all understand Jasmine just wanted someone to treat her LIKE A PERSON. She rejected every Prince before Aladdin because they treated her like a prize. So why did they need her to want to be Sultan? How did that make her more feminist when she already wanted to be treated like an equal and have a say in her future? Is it only empowering if you want a career in politics?

We admire that Belle, despite living in a judgemental village, was kind to everyone (even though she found the village life dull), and her story teaches girls that the guy everyone else loves isn't always a good guy. What's sexist about teaching girls about red flags? And she didn't start being nice to The Beast until he started treating her with respect and kindness.

Do I really NEED to defend Mulan or Tiana? I think they speak for themselves.

Rapunzel was yet another abuse victim who just needed a little help to get out of her bad situation. In this case, she also needed to learn that she was an abuse victim, and that what Mother Gothel did WASN'T normal, much like many victims of gaslighting.

And don't get me started on the non-princess animals.

Perdita had a healthy relationship with Pongo to the point she was open to express her pregnancy fears to him, and was ready to TEAR APART Cruella's goons for daring to touch her puppies as well as adopting the other puppies. Like, she was so ferocious the goons mistook her for a hyena! She's basically that "I AM THAT GIRL'S MOTHER!" scene from SpyXFamily if Yor were a dog. She and her husband were a TEAM.....but they made a Cruella live action to turn her into a girlboss?! The literal animal abuser!? THAT'S the woman you wanted to put on a pedestal when Perdita was RIGHT THERE!?

Duchess kept her kittens calm after they had been catnapped and was classy as heck. Nice to everyone regardless of social class during a time period where that was uncommon.

Lady stood up to Tramp when she believed he had abandoned her and didn't really care about her. She found out he was a heartbreaker and was like, "Nuh uh. No. You are not doing that to me! You put me through enough."

Miss Bianca from The Rescuers was IN CHARGE the whole movie, and was willing to risk life and limb to save an innocent child. THAT TINY MOUSE TOOK ON ALLIGATORS! And she picked Bernard to accompany her because he was the only one who wasn't ogling her. And then in the sequel SHE DID IT ALL AGAIN! I wish I were as brave as her.

Like, the public haven't accused these ladies of being sexist caricatures since 2014 (Actresses and actors don't count, they're out of touch like the rest of Hollywood) yet Disney is operating under the assumption that the public still thinks that way, hence all the "sHe'S nOt AfTeR a MaN iN ThIs VeRsIOn" talk.

The live action remakes are trying to attract an audience that doesn't really exist much, anymore, and back when it did exist, was comprised mainly of people who didn't actually watch the films. The Disney princesses are no longer seen as sexist, and feminine qualities are no longer seen as weak or undesirable.

2K notes · View notes

koenigami · 2 months

Text

➵ WRIOTHESLEY

synopsis : sometimes all it takes is a little push from a little melusine wc : 1,3k tags : fem!reader, fluff, comfort, reader and wrio had an argument

“He’s in a bad mood.” “Did something happen?” “Was it an inmate?” “She left the fortress in a haste.” “Someone heard them arguing. She looked hysterical.” “Oh-oh. A fight?” “Shit, not again.”

The respect that Wriothesley earns himself stems from different kinds of people and different kinds of emotions. Some of them look up to him and his generosity while others are easily intimidated solely by his presence. Usually, the latter ones simply have not had the chance yet to get to know the Duke better. Otherwise they would realise that behind that cool and brutish exterior lies just a guy who likes order and tea.

However, there is one specific circumstance that will have even Sigewinne lower her head when passing by his Grace’s office.

“Do you know what they were arguing about?” The little Melusine has been asking around for a while now, looking for eyewitnesses, and writing down every piece of information as if she was solving a scandalous case. She knows very well that as rough as he may seem, Wriothesley is only human. A human madly, truly in love with none other than Fontaine’s top attorney with whom the Fortress of Meropide is in constant correspondence due to work related matters.

Sigewinne nervously bites the top of her pen as she returns to her infirmary. The taste of plastic makes her grimace in disgust and look at the writing utensil with annoyance as if it had insulted her. She sighs.

It’s been a week since you hurried out of Wriothesley’s office, furiously stomping towards the elevator and staring down everyone and anyone who dared to cross your path. One week worth of missing documents that have not been sent in by you. One week worth of paperwork that has yet to be completed by Wriothesley. (Which is oddly ironic since that man has not left his office ever since your argument.)

Love will make the sanest person go mad, whether it’s in a good or a bad way. And so all Sigewinne can do right now is think about a way to make the both of you come back to your senses. But how? It’s not like either you or Wriothesley are at her beck and call, and will simply meet up just because she asked you so. Despite the emotional agony that you’re going through right now, you’re both way too stubborn for that.

Agony.

Unless…

“Where is he?!” Your voice echoes through the hall as you rush into Sigewinne’s infirmary. That was fast, she thinks.

She almost feels a little bad when she notices the glimmer in your eyes and your laboured breathing. It’s for everyone’s sake, she reminds herself.

“He should get here soon.”

“B-But Neuvilette told me-” A poisoned tea. Those were the news that the Iudex had apparently received from one of the Melusines, and forwarded them to you. You don’t know all the details. You left your office as soon as you got to know that Wriothesley was currently unconscious due to a prisoner who had spiked his afternoon tea.

Now you’re here, but he’s not and it’s making you even more agitated. “Sigewinne, where is he? Is he alright? Are you hiding something from me?”

“Y/n?” At first you feel his hands all over you before you even get to see him. Wriothesley delicately holds your head, turning it left and right before his hands move to your arms and then lower to your own hands. They’re shaking the slightest bit as he holds them up to his lips, pressing sweet kisses along your fingertips. His blood boils and he clenches his jaw at the simple thought of some low lives being the cause of your current state.

It’s your turn to inspect him from head to toe now. His hair is a mess, all dishevelled while his pale skin makes you fear that he might just topple over any second. Your body moves before you know it, as you push him towards one of the few beds in the infirmary. “Wriothesley, shouldn’t you be in bed? When did you even wake up?”

Wake… up?

“Do you know if the potion will have any long term effects on you?” Despite having him right in front of you, obviously well and not on his deathbed, your heart still feels like it is about to burst from your ribcage. As soon as the news had reached you, you dropped everything. Any documents that you had to write and read through, any meetings with clients and other employees of the Palais Mermonia-

None of them mattered anymore. All of a sudden, everything seemed so insignificant when there was the uncertainty if you’d ever be able to hear Wriothesley’s voice. Hear him sigh in tiredness before humming with the delight at the taste of his freshly brewed tea.

The simple thought of the possibility of him never waking up again, depriving you from the chance to get another glimpse of his breathtaking eyes. It was enough to get your tear ducts working and your eyes pricking as you hurried to see him as soon as possible.

“Archons, you should really lie down. You don’t look-”

Your mouth falls silent, because you can almost hear the screeching sound of the turning clockworks inside Wriothesley’s brain. It ends up worrying you even more.

He scrutinises you, lets his gaze travel around the room only to notice that you’re alone now. Only you two. No Sigewinne.

Sigewinne…

“You have not been attacked today, have you?” Deep blue eyes inspect your body again. Just to make sure, even though he more or less knows that all of this has to be a scheme.

“No one robbed you? No treasure hoarders, right?”

He watches your eyes widen, brows furrow before you shake your head. Of course.

Why else would you believe that he’s comatose? Why else would he believe that you’ve been beaten to a pulp, and robbed off your most precious belongings? Why if not because of Sigewinne?

“What’s wrong?” You ask cautiously, and you notice now too that one person is missing.

And it’s only when Wriothesley explains to you that, in fact, there has never been tea nor poison, or at least not any kind of combination of those two. He has never been unconscious, and neither have you been hurt. But what did happen was that the both of you have been led on. Deceived.

And that by none other than the head nurse herself.

“I can’t believe she pulled off something like that. You looked so awful, I actually thought you were sick.”

“Love, that’s because I was worried sick!” Wriothesley exclaims and exhales a huge breath when you bury your face in the crook of his neck. His arms open and instinctively wrap around you, fingers digging into your hips. And it feels good. So, so good because it’s been way too many days since you’ve held each other like this.

And, god damn, did he miss it.

A thought crosses his mind. How your last interaction had been a silly argument. Petty remarks and poisonous words spewed at each other, induced by nothing else but your egos.

All of it is so insignificant now that you both are in each other’s embrace, and that you’re both fine and unharmed.

So Wriothesley promises himself to apologise to you later, inhale your scent, brush his fingers through your hair all while showing you how much the few days that you have been apart affected him. Because none of those things should be taken for granted. Because another day with you is not promised but his love for you is.

But first. You both have a bone to pick with a certain Melusine.

#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley fluff #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley genshin impact #genshin x reader #wriothesley comfort

1K notes · View notes

uglyducklingofthe2000s · 5 months

Text

Born for Red? - Max Verstappen

Leclerc!reader

Summary: Charles little sister is fighting her way into F1, she's managed to make it into F2 alongside Arthur for 2022. But when it comes out who she's racing under and what junior team she's in, the war begins. Throw in a new love interest, and the world seems to meltdown.

This one is loooooong. 2.6K words.

For the most part y/n prefers for her brothers to remain away from her racing career. She faces enough scrutiny as a their sister, add in she's the only female to make it to F2 in recent years is just another thing the media uses against her. Though they aren't actually aware that she's in F2 this year quite yet.

The rumours had been spinning around about which team she might be in, who would be her mentor if she is in F2. Almost certainly Charles. There was also a debate over whether the bidding war rumours between the junior teams was true.

Apparently no one would truly ever fight over a female driver, at least according to some of the less respectable retired drivers.

Ferrari runs in the blood of the Leclerc's. As proven by Charles one rookie year and immediate move up into the Ferrari team while Arthur is in the Ferrari academy and has been for a few years now.

Ferarri had y/n in her one F3 year.

But her contract was only for her time in F3. Now she's out of the Ferrari family.

"We are very happy to have you in our team." Christian states as she sits in the Milton Keynes office.

"It's good to be joining such a successful team." Y/n smiles almost shivering as she makes the final signature on the contract. Cementing her future. "Thank you so much for taking a chance on me. I promise, I'll not let you down."

"I don't think you could if you tried." Christian chuckles before standing up. "How about I get someone to give you a tour?"

"That'd be amazing." Y/n nods always eager to make sure her excitement and commitment is shown in every form. Including knowing this whole building inside out like she grew up here.

By the time y/n gets back home, Arthur is awaiting his younger sister along with their mother. Only by the better part of a year. She was born 10 months after him and he never lets her forget it.

"Where have you been?" Arthur asks as she rushes to kiss Pascal's cheek then moving quickly to join them for dinner.

"Just some prep for F2. We only have a couple more weeks." Y/n smiles while Arthur hums, he still doesn't know what team she's driving for. Even if he knows there's only so many seats left that haven't been announced.

"I know, do you know what team you're in yet?" Arthur asks making Pascal look at her only daughter who has already told her mother of her betrayal to Ferrari. But Pascal insisted it was y/n's choice of when the right time to tell her brothers was.

Definitely not now.

Red Bull juniors team announced y/n's union with them only a couple days after her contract was signed. Thankfully she had to fly back out to England to train ahead of Bahrain.

Her phone blew up with more than just her brothers trying to contact her.

What she didn't expect was for her to end up being cornered by the reigning F1 champion, who had been made aware of her lack of communication with her brothers who she is simply fearful to speak to about her change of team loyalty.

"You are a natural." His voice comments making her jump from her seat in the simulator.

"O-Oh, thanks." Y/n smiles nervously, never being sure how to feel about Max. "Could've been better really."

"There is always room for improvement...for everyone. No matter what level, what car, there is always room for error and room for improvement." Max shrugs then nodding at her the screens. "You can spend as much time as you like here. But your brother is reaching out to me and asking if I can talk you into calling him. I think you should."

"He's mad."

"He is."

If Charles couldn't even find it in himself to hide that fact from Max then it really is bad.

"You hid it from him." Max points out as a reason as to why her brother might be mad rather than mad that she chose Red Bull.

"He's not as easy to speak to as you think." Y/n murmurs while Max smiles.

"Then you don't have to talk to him right now. But you do have to get out the simulator. We both have flights to Bahrain." Max states making her nod before she swallows as Max reaches in and undoes the seatbelts with scary ease then offering his hand to help her up. "You will be ok."

"I hope you're right." Y/n hums before she stands next to the Dutchman who is pretty intimidating to be stood next to.

Y/n walking into the paddock in Bahrain. The media are all over her and so are Ferrari fans shouting their distaste of her choice to not only leave Ferrari but to join Red Bull.

She moves through getting into the Red Bull unit to hopefully hide. But she knows she has to see her brothers at some point. Especially since Arthur is going to be racing against her.

"Come on." Max states pulling her back out of the unit and through the garages till they're in the pit lane where her brothers are both standing next to the Ferrari pit wall. "Get it over and done with, if they are too angry I will step in."

Y/n isn't even sure where this has came from since her conversations with Max have given no indication that he would be willing to go up against her brothers over something like this. Something that is essentially so personal to her.

Y/n sucks in a breath, swallowing thickly before she looks at him for a moment watching him nod before he moves forward and kisses her softly.

Y/n walks up to the pit wall, watching her brother spot her in her Red Bull kit and fall silent from their conversation. Both of them with unreadable expressions.

"I'm sorry, but not for leaving Ferrari...I'm just sorry I didn't tell you and you found out with the rest of the world." Y/n states quickly making the two brother's faces drop to an unimpressed expression. "I'm still kind of in red..."

"I just don't know why you didn't tell us or why you left Ferrari academy. You were doing well with us." Arthur states while y/n winces at her brother's tone, it's not so much angry but hurt.

Both her brothers had admittedly helped her get into the academy, without them she'd not have the experience and skills developed to impress Red Bull in F3 and gain an offer for her F2 seat.

"But...is it not great that I managed to impress them enough on my own to get an offer? For them to want me on the junior team?" Y/n asks almost desperate for their approval in her career. Then she makes one last desperate attempt, by telling the truth and looking directly at Charles when she does it. "I had to step out your shadow. I can't do that if you're both driving under Ferrari and I'm just following your footsteps. I want to be written as y/n Leclerc in headlines, not as Charles and Arthur Leclerc's little sister."

Charles softens into the older brother she's used to.

"Why did you never just tell us?" Charles questions while she sighs.

"Do you not see how hard it is for me to say this after the fact? Saying it before felt impossible...and easy to avoid." Y/n murmurs with a soft shrug as she looks down before feeling Charles arms wrap around her, immediately making her wrap her arms around him. "I should've told you."

"No, I-We understand, right Arthur?"

"Yes...right." Arthur nods as Charles shifts to give her the chance to hug her fellow F2 driver which Arthur is much more hesitant to return before he does squeeze her.

Y/n's first race gave her a rush of energy. She got P3. She got a podium in Bahrain.

Charles was awaiting both her and Arthur, but obviously she got the podium so when she tossed herself onto her older brother in a hug of celebration.

Afterwards, between the F2 feature race and the F1 Grand Prix. She finds herself with none other than Max Verstappen and her need to inform everyone on her news of her first ever F2 race result overcame her.

"I got P3!" Y/n beams bouncing to him and not stopping herself when she jumps up onto him in a hug which earns a laugh and a lung squeezing hug.

"That is very good, y/n." Max chuckles while she feels no sign that he intends to release her. "I have a surprise for you actually, since I knew you would do well."

Y/n frowns a little in confusion but nods and gestures for him to go ahead. Max tugs her to the Red Bull unit till he reveals a random room that has a cake with her name on it and "P3".

"Did you have this made between the end of the race and now?" Y/n pouts finding the whole gesture the cutest thing on the planet. "Max...This is the nicest thing ever. I really didn't expect anything from you."

"You deserve it." Max smiles with a shrug then clearing his throat. "I might not be able to deliver a cake for every win, that'd be a lot of cake I'm predicting. I'll get more creative for Jeddah."

"Well...don't...don't get too cocky for me." Y/n laughs nervously feeling her body flush under his gaze. "Thank you for this. It means a lot."

"You are part of the team and I know you don't realise it, but I have been watching your career for a while." Max admits before looking like he just admitted something that he shouldn't have said. "I should go. Will you be watching?"

"Yes. Christian invited me to watch from the garage."

"Ok, well I'll see you out there." Max nods pulling a ballsy move by both their standards. He leans down kissing either of her cheeks feeling the burning heat of her face from the proximity.

Y/n is left with the cake, feeling almost too alone with it before she smiles a little, shrugging off the upper half of her driving suit off before picking up the cake and carrying it to the Red Bull garage to share with others there who do happily take a piece as she cuts it up.

The camera in the garage does catch her at one point of the race handing out the cake. Although when she sees that Charles has to pull to the side of the track, her beaming mood changes.

She ends up leaving the garage just to meet her brother in the paddock and to make sure he's alright. But Charles is ushered to the media pit before she gets a chance to properly speak to him.

When they get to Jeddah, y/n is feeling a little more nervous seeing the track. But once again, the full time F1 driver/part-time hype man for a certain Red Bull junior is there to help her build up the confidence.

"Get in the car, y/n." Max instructs making her look between Max and the F1 car that is already showing serious pace, especially in Max's hands. The mechanics around them also seem fairly intrigued by Max's words to her. "Need help?"

"Please." Y/n nods before feeling Max move around her, hands landing on her waist before he lifts her up and into the cockpit. He reaches to help her sit down comfortably.

"Hold on, you need a helmet for the real experience." Max smiles moving to pick up his own helmet since all of hers are elsewhere.

Now there's only one thing that could ruin this endearing moment. Or maybe two things. First being Charles sees this. Second is a camera from Sky sports of all things catching the moment and when y/n spots Ted Kravitz doing a bit more.

"Oh shit." Y/n murmurs slumping down in the seat while Max knocks the visor down to hide her face while standing up.

It's fairly obvious who it is and more obvious that somethings suspicious what happening from their reactions.

Y/n hears her name being spoken.

"Y/n Leclerc, the newest member of the Red Bull family who seems to be testing out a car she might just have for herself one day." Ted states thankfully not painting anything of this that she feared. "Possibly using Max to envision a championship winning future. People constantly say Charles might challenge for the championship in another team, perhaps another Leclerc might prove that theory right."

Max can't even stop himself from smirking a little at the thought of y/n winning the championship under the Red Bull team.

"What do you think?" Max asks as he leans back into the halo over her, lifting the visor again. "Feel like you could handle this?"

"Yeah, probably handle it straight into a wall." Y/n hums earning a deadpanned expression. "I need to go on the track walk and get a feel for it I think."

"I can go with you." Max states making her smile a little sadly.

"I promise Charles I would go with him. He just wants to still feel involved in my career." Y/n sighs then nodding. "Maybe in Imola."

"Promise?" Max questions growing some confidence with her.

"I promise." Y/n nods with a smile that is trying to hide her giddiness.

Charles isn't blind, he's seen the videos, he's seen heard the whispers across the paddock. Even the drivers seem to be noticing Max's attention on the youngest Leclerc. Some even think it might make for a good distraction from focusing on his own championship fight.

But Charles would rather lose a limb than be so ok with his little sister dating his childhood rival. He likes Max, he doesn't think the Dutchman is a bad man, but that doesn't mean he wants his little sister dating him.

"Y/n?" Charles asks deciding to use the time with her in a private jet over to Australia.

F2 doesn't have a race there but y/n is travelling over to be with Red Bull, mainly to support her team but Christian seems eager for her to be as present as possible.

If it's for media attention or whether he just wants her to see the workings of the team and be apart of it all she doesn't know. but she's being brought to Australia despite the next F2 race being Imola.

Arthur is actually going to Italy for some Ferrari academy training ahead of Imola.

"Yeah?" Y/n smiles pulling her headphones off since she'd been plugged into watching the F1 race again. The girl can usually be found rewatching any one of the F1 races from any season. Usually focused on Seb and Kimi's time in Ferrari together.

"Are you and Max dating?"

"Excusez-moi?" Y/n questions in pure shock of her brother's words. "Not that it's any of your business, but no. We are not."

"Do you want to?"

"Charles!" Y/n exclaims then looking to Joris and Andre who are on the flight with them. "Can the two of you please control him?"

"You think we have not tried before now?" Joris asks making her frown at the two. "Ah, but Charles, y/n is right. You cannot ask that."

"I want to know." Charles argues now feeling like he has to defend his position since he only questioned it since she is his little sister and he is protective over her. "Y/n, you and Max are close. I just think that if he is making advances you do not want I can speak to him."

"Charles, I mean this from the bottom of my heart. Stop right now." Y/n demands with a voice chilling enough for Charles to nod understanding that is her putting a stop to it.

Y/n looks at Max who is standing in his garage look at her while speaking to his mechanics who notices his gaze redirecting and give up their conversation to let Max speak to the young Leclerc who has been at the forefront of his attention any time she's in the same room.

"Hello, schat." Max greets as she walks over.

It's a new nickname that started in messages during the brief weekend break between the Jeddah race and travelling to Australia. It means treasure in Dutch and she can't hide her burning face.

"Can I ask you something?" Y/n asks making Max shift slightly closer. "Can we go somewhere else?"

Max frowns but nods and gestures for them to go to his driver's room where she walks with him following and before they know it.

"Charles thinks that we might like each other. Which I want to know as well...I need to know." Y/n states making Max look at her for a moment before he smiles a little, amusement sparkling in those eyes before he waits for her to speak again. "Do you want to date? Like be my boyfriend?"

"Will Charles kill me?"

"No. He might try, but I doubt he'll succeed." Y/n murmurs before she is gently pulled forward toward her and the long-awaited kiss is exchange with Max's hands on her waist, where in private they have been finding a new home as he keeps his hands placed there. "So it's official."

"It's official. No hiding it. I will handle Charles...and Arthur if I have to." Max smiles showing his rare slightly cocky side that he has no shame in showing when it comes to y/n.

Rather than throwing the surprise onto Charles, this time y/n feels a confidence in her new relationship that gives her the poke she needs to just go ahead to do whatever she needs.

"Charles..." Y/n murmurs as she sits across from him for breakfast at the hotel.

"Yes?" Charles hums, very obviously distracted by something.

"Max is my boyfriend."

"I fucking knew it." Charles mutters tossing his phone down on the table with an unimpressed expression. "I'm not ok with this."

"I'm not asking for your permission, I'm an adult Charles...I'd prefer you to be happy for me. But if you aren't then I guess, I'll just deal with it." Y/n shrugs before she stands up. "I just thought I'd let you know since I didn't want you to discover it in the same way you found out I moved to Red Bull."

It stings them both, her not getting his support and him feeling the jab about her leaving the team he's spent his career loyal and spoken so highly about.

"Y/n...I'm sorry." Charles states turning to speak to her but she's gone and instead he turns back to Andrea who witnessed the whole thing and looks at Charles with admitted disappointment.

"You cannot keep expecting her to make herself a second priority to keeping you happy, Charles. You will push her away." Andrea sighs, not being able to contain his opinion anymore. He can't watch two siblings who were so close, he's watched y/n grow up even more than he's watched Charles grow up and she has spent her life admiring her older brother with shiny big eyes and an unwavering need to live up to the standard that he's set for them. "Have you see just how happy she is with Max?"

Charles has definitely seen the smile and joy in his sister's whole being when she's around Max. She just glows and radiates happiness with him. Max also seems so well fitted with her and in fact the Red Bull team is treating y/n better than Ferrari Academy treats any of their drivers.

Y/n and Max being official means Max can finally stop withholding any urge to make small gestures or touches. However, her distance from Charles through the weekend has been noticed and with people noticing her and Max's behaviour with one another. There's rumours churning out of the mill that are making their rounds both in the paddock and online.

"And here we have the newest Red Bull junior driver. Y/n Leclerc, thank you for joining us." Karun smiles as she joins them for the race Sunday. "You are here supporting Red Bull, but are you still secretly here for another certain Red team?"

"We can see you are dressed for Red Bull, you're here with the team." Naomi adds making her nod looking down at her uniform.

"I am obviously here to support Red Bull, they are my team. I want them to win and I think there's a small chance of them not doing well. But Charles is family, I wouldn't be where I am today without his support and I want to see him become a champion. To do that, he's got to have a race win. I don't see why he can't start here." Y/n smiles before she jumped when two hands find her waist. "Merde, Max."

"Max, we were just discussing y/n's support of you." Karun states clearly surprised by Max's appearance while Naomi looks like she wants to ask what everyone currently wants to ask but is just too fearful of offending one of them.

"Just ask." Y/n smiles looking at Naomi as Max is handed a mic and stands beside her.

"Are the two of you possibly dating?" Naomi asks almost sounding like she feels some relief in getting to ask.

"Yes. But it happened after I joined the team, so no I didn't use Max to get this seat."

"No. I can confirm that Helmut would not do that sort of thing for me." Max nods while the two hosts smile though Max is quickly grabbed by some Red Bull media assistants and has to toss his mic to the sky team, though he jogs back to kiss y/n's cheek before he leaves. "Bye, schat."

"Bye." Y/n laughs then pulling a slightly embarrassed face since she wasn't expecting even just a kiss on the cheek. "I think he's enjoying that new privilege a little too much."

"I think the two of you are about to break f1 internet." Naomi laughs then deciding to change topic. "I can't wait to see two Leclerc's on the grid very soon and potentially in a title battle with each other from two different teams."

"That's a lot of confidence in me."

"I think Red Bull is a history making team, you being the first women since 1976 to get on the grid and in a fighting position is not out the question."

Y/n smiles trying not to waver at the thought of fighting against Charles for a title. By that point he might have already won one. Or maybe he'll have left Ferrari? Who knows?

To say the Australia race had a bad start for Charles would be an understatement. Y/n is certain he didn't even hit the 30 second mark before he seemed to bounce off of Stroll and into the gravel trap.

Y/n can't stop herself from going to see him once he's back in the paddock. Though following that the race is red flagged by Alex losing his car and crashing out sending a lot of gravel onto the track and apparently being bad enough for the race to be called to a stop.

"It's not the end of the world." Y/n tries once Charles is back from the media pit. but Charles anger is getting the better of him and he has to vent to someone.

"I cannot drive that car. The understeer is impossible to control." Charles exclaims as they sit in his driver's room and y/n grimaces knowing that of the first 3 races in the season. Charles has now DNF'd 2 of them. "I should've had the podium in Bahrain. I could've got through the pack for a podium here. But I am out the race again."

"Charles, it is early in the season. You have time to improve. Remember that Red Bull's cars last year had the worst time at the start of the season. You do not need to write off the year yet."

"I am going back to the garage. I don't even want to talk about it...thank you for coming to see me."

"I'll always come and check on you...you're still family even if you're being a bit of a dick by not supporting me."

Charles looks hurt by her words but the two leave and Y/n gets out to the pitman, bumping into Max in the garage as he heads inside with the red flag.

"What happened?" Y/n frowns, unaware of the race stopping due to focusing on Charles.

"They have red flagged for gravel on the track. We didn't need to red flag. But they red flag." Max states while y/n internally groans at the fact that both Max and Charles are now annoyed. "Where were you?"

"Charles ended up in the gravel. I had to check on him." Y/n shrugs knowing the driver's at the front don't always need to be informed of who behind them is out of the race.

"Oh, is he ok?"

"Angry. I think he is just feeling a bit defeated about the weekend." Y/n sighs while Max nods. "It's alright, it's not like there's a lot of damage. The red flag will be done soon."

Y/n smiles reassuringly, hoping she can at least bring some comfort to one of the men and thankfully Max seems happy to accept it.

Little did Y/n know that the red flag would be one of three with two very late in the race and honestly it’s questionable for the last red flag to even allow for them to finish the race. It all seems fairly obvious the ronaldo lights out seems to be to completely ruin Carlos’ race and points position.

So y/n spends a lot more race time with Max than she usually would. Not that she was complaining but Max certainly was and he was getting more and more frustrated with every time they stopped.

"I think I should climb in your car in your place and finish the race for you." Y/n jokes while Max looks at her with a smile before he tugs her over to sit in his lap and smiles. "You're going to win the race, we both know it."

"What if I don't?"

"Oh well I'll offer myself to replace you." Y/n hums then grinning at him. "I think Christian would let me take over."

"I think you're right." Max hums before kissing her only for his name to be called for the red flag finally being over. "There is no way there can be another red flag."

"No. If there is then I vote I do just get in and finish the race for you."

"I really will let you." Max grunts as they stand up and move out of his driver's room.

Imola was cancelled and for F2 the Barcelona race followed next which went pretty well. But the big race which she's beyond excited for is her home race. Monaco. She didn't get to see Max while she was in Barcelona so being back in Monaco, outside of race prep she's been spending time with him.

Arthur and Charles are honouring their home race with a tribute helmet to their dad in the Monaco red and white colours. Meanwhile, y/n is taking another route in the inspiration behind her home helmet design.

Her usual helmet is bright pink because she's unapologetic in her love of the colour. But this time she's taken Max's iconic helmet design and made it all pink, different shades varying to replace all the colours but Max actually looked so touched by the gesture that he asked for a replica the moment she took it out the bag.

"Here we have-oh isn't that cute?" Ted chuckles seeing y/n in her pink helmet with Max lifting the visor wiggling his finger at her while they are too caught up with each other to notice the cameras on them ahead of the F2 practice. "For anyone who doesn't know, y/n's helmet is Max's exact design, without the sponsors, but entirely pink. She talked about it and said that she wants to embody his race success but she had to put her own twist on the design and Max-Max who has been very hush hush about the relationship. He did comment about it and said that he loves the helmet more than anything else about the Monaco race weekend."

Y/n does well until she causes a red flag when her brakes fail and she crashes at the swimming pool chicane of all places. Since she couldn't slow down the impact was pretty bad and in a moment of panic seeing his sister not really moving around much to make an effort to get out her car, Arthur stops his car to climb out and check on her.

"Y/n?" Arthur questions as the marshalls begin to shout in a panic of him climbing out.

"I'm ok. That was big." Y/n winces while Arthur reaches in helping her undo her seatbelts. Her breaths are pretty hard, clearly winded from the impact.

The medical delegate appears moving to help aid her and Arthur ends up in the medical car with her while she is taken to the make shift medical centre.

Since it's a Thursday for the F2 practice, Max and Charles both rush to get there too knowing that y/n was in enough pain to not manage much of a radio message to give the ok.

When the two get there though, she's not impressed and her pain is replaced with embarrassment and frustration as the medic gives her the ok to leave.

"I'm fine. Leave me alone." Y/n huffs stepping around the two men appear at the doorway of the room.

Charles is wise enough to leave her while Max is also wise enough to follow her. Knowing that one of them has to go after her and clearly Charles doesn't want to.

"Y/n, it was only a practice and the brakes failing is beyond your control."

Y/n's eyes are filled with tears as she wrinkles her nose and he sighs pulling her against himself. There's definitely a combination over emotions just overwhelming her right now and Max knows that the crash itself near the bottom of her list of reasons.

"It's ok, I crashed there and my career wasn't over. I've crashed here many times." Max states while squeezing her. "Do you want to come to the Red Bull garage and see a surprise I have for you?"

"I want to hide from everyone and never be seen in public again." Y/n murmurs before looking up and immediately being kissed without much warning but she's certainly not going to complain. "Ok...I want to see a surprise."

Max leads her to the garage and shows her upstairs before he shows her the helmet bag and a helmet that looks like an odd mash up of blue, white, yellow and red. It takes her a couple moments to realise that he's taken her usual helmet design and put his own helmet colours on it.

"Shut up. Stop. Stop it right now." Y/n pouts beginning to feel tears escape but this time for the best reasons. "I can't believe you did this...Max..."

"I like your design, but I think I may need to wait to test out the pink helmet...so I added my own colours."

Charles both loved and hated the matching helmets. Seeing y/n gushing over Max's helmet and posting constantly in her own helmet. Charles did make a comment about her helmet being a big improvement on Max's choice of colour scheme. He couldn't help himself.

Y/n's qualifying went better than her practice and following that the sprint and feature races went well. She broke the Leclerc Monaco curse with a P2. Not the worst result, but not the best which meant she was a little harsher on herself than most people thought was fair.

But she was more bothered about seeing the F1 race where admittedly she's annoyed seeing Charles lost his top 3 position due to a penalty for impeding. There's no arguing it but it doesn't stop how annoying it is.

When she watches Max take the win, the radio message actually leaves her running down to the podium awaiting for her boyfriend.

"This win was for y/n." Max states through the radio and when he spots y/n waiting for him with his team, she lifts his visor kissing her fingers and passing the kiss to his cheek.

"You were amazing. As always." Y/n states while Max hugs her with one of his famous hugs that get attention and cry out about how amazing it must be to be on the receiving end of it.

It's not till later that Charles sees the footage and when he does. He's finally forced to confront the truth.

That his little sister and Max might be the perfect pair and that her signing to Red Bull will probably be seen as the best thing that y/n ever did for her career. It's more annoying than hurtful that she's happier now than he's ever seen her. Annoying in the sense that it has to be his rival team and his rival competitor that managed to bring her so much joy and success.

Realistically, of all the drivers. There is worse that she could choose to potentially spend her life with. Max is a nice guy and he clearly adores y/n as much as she adores him.

2K notes · View notes

lavender-devotion · 24 days

Note

Hi Hi! I wasn't sure if you're open but can I request a Alastor x reader who is a charlie's older sister and she is alastor's fiance. They never told their hotel friends, basically they're in a secret relationship, until Lucifer arrived (from episode 5 dad beat dad) and announced she's engaged. but no body knew who her fiance was until alastor popped up behind her and pressed a kiss on her. Charlie's happy and Lucifer D:

As soon as I saw this request I immediately ran to make this meme, lmao I'm sorry 😭

anywho, here we go lmao

Summary: You’re Lucifer's eldest and, much like Charlie, you’re desperate to have his support and approval---he’s your dad, of course you are. So, when he finally visits the hotel, you can't wait to tell him that you're engaged. And he's overjoyed...that is, until he finds out that you're engaged to the Radio Demon. What happens when your fiancé and your dad start feuding over you, forcing you to pick a side? Your family, or the love of your life?

Tags: Alastor x Fem!Reader, No Use of (Y/N), Reader is Lucifer's Eldest, Secret Relationship, Lucifer has a heart attack bc Alastor, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, we're just gonna pretend Alastor has been at the hotel a longer time than in canon bc Plot, Charlie is a Good Sister TW: None <3 Word Count: 2.6k Read it on Ao3 <3

When you'd first met Alastor, you had been…skeptical of him, to say the least.

To be completely honest, you’d hated him—and that was putting it lightly. You hated how condescending he was, you hated the fact that he clearly had ulterior motives, you hated that he kept everything about himself a secret, you hated his damn smile, you hated…him!

And the feeling was definitely mutual.

Alastor hated your obvious distrust of him, he hated the fact that you neither feared nor respected him, he hated the way you’d constantly tell Charlie and the others to be wary of him, he hated the way you always seemed to get in the way of his plans, he hated…you!

And no matter how many lessons Charlie had on friendship and trust—lessons that she forced the two of you to attend, I might add—or how many lectures about how the two of you needed to get along or how much she begged the two of you to stop fighting, nothing ever worked.

But…then something changed.

At some point between then and now, the two of you began to soften and learn more about each other---often against your will, and your wishes---and you found...that you had more in common than previously thought.

You both preferred radio to television, you both had a love and penchant for cooking, you both enjoyed quite a few of the same novels, and on and on it went. And those similarities brought the two of you closer together and, although neither of you ever wanted to admit it, you actually began to get along. Eventually, after enough time had passed, the two of you managed to forget why you didn't get along in the first place---all of it becoming a distant memory.

Of course, one thing led to another, and now you were lucky enough to have a pretty little ring on your left hand---not married yet, but soon to be.

Obviously none of the others knew about any of this, by both of your wishes. You were both private people and, knowing everyone else, they would ask questions and the two of you would end up having to spill your entire life's stories to finally get them to leave it be---and even that wasn't guaranteed!

So, to avoid the drama of it all, you just...kept things quiet. Private.

It wasn't particularly hard---Alastor wasn't much of a PDA person, especially in public; neither of you were particularly big fans of pet names; your dates were always fairly simple; and the two of you had your own jobs within the hotel to attend to, so half the time you weren't even in each other's presence.

It was...nice. Having someone to lean on, being able to see another side of Alastor---and having him all to yourself. No one else had him like you did, and you preferred it that way. Of course, though, all good things had to come to an end.

Your and Charlie's father, Lucifer, was coming to the hotel for the first time and---knowing him---it'd be the last, so now was possibly your only chance to tell him about your engagement in person.

Part of you was nervous, considering that you hadn't even told him---or anyone else---you were dating someone and now you were just going to spring an engagement on all of them, but another part of you was relieved and excited. Obviously, you would miss the privacy, but who knew? Maybe everyone's constant curiosity wouldn't bother you as much as you thought, and you might actually end up enjoying a more public relationship.

One where you could kiss him whenever you pleased, instead of being forced to wait until the two of you were alone; one where you could wish him goodbye with an "I love you," instead of snarky "don't die" on the way out; one where you could simply blow off any potential suitors with an "I'm married," instead of having to convince them that you really weren't interested in dating. Maybe all of that would be nice too.

"Nervous?" Alastor asked, the static overlay of his voice drawing you out of your thoughts. You turned away from the mirror you were looking into, instead turning your attention to your beloved---his ever-present smile softening as he looked at you.

"A little, I just..." you sighed, "I just want this to go well, but---knowing my dad---he's going to freak out and it'll be a whole thing."

He chuckled and stepped forward until he was close enough to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face, "not to worry, my dear, I'm sure everything will go just fine."

"But-"

"And if it doesn't," he continued, "I'll be by your side to help you fix it all. You won't be alone."

You smiled and let him draw you into a chaste kiss, some of your tension dissipating in his presence. Somehow he always knew how to make you feel better.

"What would I ever do without you?" You asked, gently cupping his face.

He tilted his head slightly to press another kiss to your palm, "you'll never have to find out."

Suddenly the unmistakable sound of Charlie's voice made its way up to your shared room, introducing everything and everyone in the hotel to---who you assumed to be---your father. So there was no more preparing yourself for it, now you just had to do. Besides, maybe Alastor was right, maybe he'd take the announcement better than you thought.

There was only one way to find out.

----------

"WHAT??? HIM???"

He did not, in fact, take it better than you thought.

You tried to wait for the perfect time to break the news, but---of course---your dad had immediately spotted the ring on your finger- (a detail that, somehow, everyone else had missed) -and pressed you for more information, his actual reason for visiting long forgotten. By both him and everyone else, apparently.

Getting a meeting with Heaven was suddenly playing second fiddle to everyone's curiosity about who you'd been dating behind their backs---who you were now engaged to. So, after a lot of pressing and pressing, you'd finally relented and admitted that it was Alastor. Which had led to...all of this.

Charlie was vibrating off the walls, everyone else was in various states of shock, and your dad...looked like he was in the middle of a mental breakdown.

"You can't- I mean-" He laughed, more than a little hysterical, "you're not actually engaged to him, are you?"

Before you could answer, Alastor cut in---a sharp edge coloring his tone.

"Why wouldn't she be?"

Your father's attention switched from you to Alastor, practically seething as he looked at him. You couldn't see Alastor's face from your place beside him, but you could tell that the feeling was mutual by the crackling electricity that crawled across your skin.

"Have you ever fucking met you?" Your father asked incredulously.

"Yes, and I'm very lucky to have her," Alastor responded, punctuating his statement with a gentle kiss on your cheek---a kiss obviously done just to piss your father off, since you knew Alastor wasn't exactly fond of public affection.

The tension was thick in the air as the two just stood there, glaring at each other.

Then finally, your father laughed.

"Alright then..."

Jazzy, upbeat, music suddenly came out of nowhere, and—before you had any time to process what was happening—you were drawn into your father’s song and dance number, the world around you shifting to follow his words.

“Looks like you could use some help, from the big boss of Hell himself! Obviously, since I don’t know how you could’ve felt that this–”

One voice, “Bastard!”

Two, “Jackass!”

Three, “Arrogant piece of shit!”

Back to your father, “–would ever make a suitable husband! Especially for you, did you forget?”

He twirled you around until you were in an elegant dress and crown, falling backwards onto a throne.

“You’re a princess of Hell, so better yet! Rather than an old outdated crook—who’s probably just using you for your station, at least from the looks—why not let your dad give you pick of the lot?” He snapped his fingers, new people appearing with every beat, “men, women, or those in between; outgoing royalty or someone serene, anything but this walking tomato lookin’ prick—you could have anyone, so just take your pick!”

A streak of shadow suddenly shoved your father to the side, Alastor appearing in his place with a charming grin—his shadow twirling around you like it was trying to hold you.

“My dear it’s true that you’re one of a kind—everything anyone could ask for, a very rare find,” he knelt before you and kissed your hand, “I’m a very lucky sinner to call you my own, to stand by your side as you sit on your throne.”

He then moved to sit on the arm of your throne, pulling you into his side, “however I have to agree that someone around here is a crook, but it’s certainly not me, so let’s take a look!”

The first person he picked out of the crowd was Charlie, his shadow minions bringing her forward dressed in her own royal attire, “your darling sister, who’s been by your side—supporting you through your troubles, high or low tide!”

Next came the other residents, dressed in their own fancy clothing, although less detailed than yours and your sister’s, “your close hotel friends, do you dare suspect them? Even though they’ve proven they’d follow you to the end?”

Finally he knelt in front of you again, dressed in his own royal attire and placing a golden ring on your left ring finger, “or do you truly think it could be me, your doting husband-to-be? Could I be the traitor despite the love, trust, and devotion I’ve given to you, or everything I’ve done to prove that my affection is true?”

“Of course not! You know that, so why don’t you see?” Suddenly your father was shoved forward like a criminal, the shadows dressing him in peasant style clothing, “the only traitor around here is this snake, does he take you for Eve?”

“Excuse me?” Your father asked incredulously, pushing back the shadows and reappearing in his usual clothing.

“Trying to lead you to darkness with his tricks and lies, wanting you to be miserable and lonely instead of by my side.”

“Hold on now–” “All this unsupportive jargon, telling you how you should live your life,” Alastor practically snarled, looking your father dead in the eye, “no wonder that this bastard was left by his wife.”

Your head was left spinning as things quickly switched between your father playing a golden fiddle, to your fiance interrupting him on a vintage piano—the two practically seething at each other before turning their attention back to you.

First Alastor, “my dear, why don’t you pick your own path, instead of listening to this stick in the mud?”

Then your father, “why choose a shitty partner over your own blood?”

And that is how it went.

“And pick a deadbeat father, nothing more than a dud? Wouldn’t you rather find happiness with the family you choose?”

Over.

“Yeah, sure, pick a bunch of losers–”

And over.

“Can you butt out of my song?”

And over.

“Your song? I started this!”

Until finally– “I’m singing it, I’ll finish it!”

You had had enough.

“Oh you tacky piece of sh–”

"JUST STOP!" You shouted, bringing their argument to a screeching halt and drawing a deadly silence into the room, "for fuck's sake---how can the two of you not see your own hypocrisy?! Even when it's sitting right in front of you!"

The two of them stared at you, wide eyed, but you kept going before they could respond.

"You're arguing over what's best for me, while not even fucking asking me what I want! This isn't even about me, this is about the two of you hating each other," you took a breath, desperately blinking back tears, "well you know what? BOTH of you are hurting me! BOTH of you are ignoring my wishes! BOTH of you are treating me like shit! And I don't want to fucking be around EITHER OF YOU!"

And without another word you turned on your heel and left the hotel.

----------

The moment you heard footsteps coming near you, you flipped around and snarled---prepared to snap at your father or Alastor, whichever one decided to come kiss your ass to one-up the other. But, instead, you only found Charlie standing behind you, a concerned look on her face.

You immediately turned away from her and wiped your eyes, not wanting your little sister to see you like this, but she didn’t seem to mind—just sitting beside you and resting her head on your shoulder as you sniffled.

After a moment, you broke the silence.

“I just…I don’t understand,” you said, voice shaking, “they’ve known each other for five fucking minutes and already hate each other. Why can’t they just get along for me? Do I seriously matter that little to them?”

Charlie was quiet for a moment, mind churning.

“I don’t necessarily think that’s it,” her voice was quiet as she spoke, as if she was thinking through each word, “I think that, for the first time ever, both of them are dealing with the fact that they might not be the most important man in your life and…I guess this is just their way of reacting to that.”

You turned to her, eyebrows raising, and she continued to explain.

“Family is important to you, Alastor knows that, but he hasn’t had to…complete, I guess, with anyone for his place by your side before—so, when dad showed up and openly disapproved of him, I think he just got scared that you’d leave him because of what dad thinks,” she took a breath, still thinking through her words, “dad, on the other hand, has always been the one who you’d run to for everything—if you were scared, sad, happy, or needed help, he was the one you’d go to. Now you have Alastor and that’s who you go to for everything, so I think dad just got scared that you wouldn’t need him anymore now that you’re getting married.”

“Congratulations, by the way,” she added wryly, squeezing your arm with a smile.

You gave her a small smile back, “how’d you ever get to be so smart?”

“I learned from the best.”

You sighed, “I just wish they’d get over themselves, I can—in fact—have more than one important man in my life, there’s not a fucking limit.”

“Yeah well…men can be stupid, I guess.”

You snorted and pulled her close, gently ruffling her hair, “you’ve got that right…between you and me, though, I like you better than both of them.”

Charlie giggled and hugged you, the two of you inseparable, just like when you were kids. You took a little longer to just breathe and enjoy the sweet moment with your sister, before finally releasing her.

She then got up and dusted off her suit, bright smile now firmly back in place, “now, let’s head back! I’m pretty sure Vaggie’s already got them working on their apologies, and I already have so many ideas for a new lesson plan on: selflessness and communication!”

You shook your head, but didn’t manage to quite hide your smile. Whatever happened, at least you would always have Charlie by your side…and Alastor and your father, if the two could manage not to kill each other.

“Those apologies better not be in fucking song format.”

“…I’ll text Angel.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #devotion's posts: requests🪻#devotion’s posts: fic stuff 🪻

567 notes · View notes

vanteguccir · 23 days

Text

Lavender Haze | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N drowns amidst so much criticism and negative comments from the media regarding her relationship, but Matt is right by her side to bring her back to the surface and surround her in a lavender haze.

Warning: Mentions of hate, slightly angst.

Requested?: No.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: This fic was written for the Challenge for the writers 2024 made by @annamcdonalds67

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Staring at the ceiling with you

Oh, you don't ever say too much

Y/N lay down next to Matt on the double bed that decorated the room. The soft gloom emanated from the corner lamp, painting the scene with orange tones. Their intertwined fingers on the mattress formed a comforting bond, a silent affirmation of each other's presence there. Together, they observed the ceiling as if they were tracing constellations on the white paint in their minds.

The silence that surrounded them was serene, and their synchronized breathing seemed to compose a soft song. Matt knew that sometimes words were unnecessary. There was no need to try to force empty conversations when each other's presence was enough.

Y/N's thoughts, however, were a whirlwind. The sudden exposure that accompanied her relationship with Matt - which they just had revealed to the public some months before - had left her overwhelmed, despite her boyfriend's advance warnings about what followed him with his career. As someone who preferred a low-key life, being dragged into the spotlight of fame was suddenly a big experience.

While her body was physically in the room, her mind felt the weight of these thoughts slowly crushing her. It was an internal battle to maintain sanity amid the media storm that surrounded them.

And you don't really read into

My melancholia

Matt, on his side, noticed the melancholy in Y/N's eyes and the way her brow was constantly frowning, but he respected her silence. He understood the pressure she faced; the crazed fans who used her words against herself and criticized every second of the videos she made a little appearance or was only mentioned, and his heart burned to be able to help her more, but he knew that trying to interpret her thoughts could only increase her distress, his own mind bringing him the mere memory of the episode from some night's before.

To the soft sound of popcorn crackling in the kitchen next door, Y/N anxiously waited for Matt on the made bed, wrapped in the comfort of the fluffy comforter. Her phone rested in her hands, and she slid her fingers across the screen to access her Instagram feed. A notification caught her attention, a tag on a photo posted by the boy.

With an anticipated smile, Y/N opened the post and found herself among the images of a photo dump posted a few hours ago. Her heart filled with warmth when she saw the picture of them together, the girl didn't know how to explain what she felt when she saw him post so openly about them, having gone through difficult situations in this regard in her previous relationship.

However, her smile faded when she swiped down and was met with an avalanche of comments. Thousands of cruel words and cutting criticisms flooded the massive list. Comments that questioned who she thought she was, insinuations that she wasn't good enough, and that Matt deserved someone better. Every word was a blow to her heart, a confirmation of all the fears and insecurities she had kept hidden inside.

Feeling crushed by the virtual pressure, a wave of anguish enveloped her. Tears began to blur her vision as she struggled to contain her overflowing emotions, not wanting to appear vulnerable in the situation, much less worry Matt.

Her head filled with questions, how could she compete with the unrealistic expectations of those who observed her life through a screen?

Minutes passed in a second for her, the sound of the door opening again echoed softly, Matt's figure entering the room following it, the tempting smell of popcorn floating in the air and a childish smile decorating his face. His smile fell instantly when he saw Y/N holding the phone tightly with one of her hands, tears rolling down her face while her other hand pressed her mouth, forcing away the sobs.

"Hey, hey, babe, what happened?" Matt ran over to her, his tone full of worry, leaving the bucket of popcorn on the bedside table and kneeling next to her on the bed.

Y/N sobs as she tries to explain, showing him the cruel comments that filled her entire screen, the device shaking slightly as a result of her trembling fingers.

Matt felt his heart break when he saw the suffering on Y/N's face and the ridiculous words in front of him. Him mind was divided between helping her or posting something obscene, full of insults, and totally guided from his emotional side.

The boy sighs, closing his eyes and wishing to take the bad things away from his girl before sitting properly next to her, wrapping her in his arms affectionately and bringing her head to his chest, sealing her hair line for long seconds.

"I'm so sorry, petal. I didn't know this was going to happen. I should have thought before posting..." He murmured, gently stroking her back as Y/N clings to him for comfort. "I'll figure it out, I promise."

I been under scrutiny (yeah, oh, yeah)

You handle it beautifully (yeah, oh, yeah)

All this shit is new to me (yeah, oh, yeah)

With that, it was known that Y/N was constantly under the relentless eyes of the fandom and obsessed fanpages, her every move being dissected and analyzed minutely by the voracious eyes of anonymous people. But that was the price to pay for dating a public figure.

While facing this incessant storm of unsolicited attention, she couldn't help but admire how Matt, despite his issues with anxiety and certain unnecessary comments left by people who called themselves fans, handled the problems of notoriety with admirable patience and calm.

He seemed so comfortable on camera alongside his brothers, so skilled at ignoring invasive situations that Y/N often found herself questioning how he did it. However, for her, this was all unfamiliar and intimidating territory, too new.

Although she passionately wanted to quickly adapt to this new lifestyle, as she had no plans to leave Matt, she also found herself racing toward an uncertain direction, trying to keep her sanity and identity intact amid the media chaos that surrounded her.

The couch enveloped them in a comfortable embrace as Y/N and Matt enjoyed the peace of the silent living room, the soft sound of a Disney movie echoing in the background. Matt's arms around Y/N were a sanctuary of calm, warming her body and bringing her a comfort that made her feel like she could sleep any moment. It was one of those rare moments when they could simply exist t the interference of the fast-paced world around them.

Matt, with a sigh of contentment, reached for his phone, curious to see how the car video they had posted a few minutes ago was doing, eager to see what the fans thought of the themes brought up.

Quickly, he opened the YouTube app and scrolled through the comments. Among a flood of compliments and kind words, however, some less favorable comments caught his attention. Some criticized the way he was quieter than usual, while others questioned why he was even part of the videos, as he had nothing to add.

Matt rolled his eyes in a dismissive gesture as he turned the screen of his phone towards Y/N, allowing her to read the comments that filled the space.

"Look at that." Matt said, exasperated. "These people have nothing better to do than criticize anything and everything. Immature teenagers who love to point out only negative things." He muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Locking the screen of his phone with a brusque gesture, he left it aside on the couch, refusing to let the negative comments ruin his moment of peace. The boy turned to Y/N again, his smile returning as if nothing had happened and wrapping his arms around her once more.

"Sorry about that, pretty girl." The brunette asked softly against her skin, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder. "Sometimes people just need to spread negativity to feel better about themselves. But let's not let that get to us, hm?" He lifted his head from where it was, smiling small at his girl before pressing small seals on the exposed skin of her shoulders and neck, eliciting loud laughter from the girl.

[...] All they keep asking me (all they keep asking me)

Is if I'm gonna be your bride

The only kind of girl they see (the only kind of girl they see)

Is a one-night or a wife

Post after post from the significant number of fans who adored them together claimed that they were "endgame", as they had been in a relationship for over a year and seemed to be going strong.

But the comments that followed were always like a punch to the gut for Y/N. Some argued that she was Matt's future bride, while others insinuated that she was just a "gold digger", there to take advantage of his fame and money, like a one night stand, before eventually leaving him.

Y/N's feelings fluctuated between anger and sadness. How dare they question her true feelings for Matt? How could they judge their relationship based on unfounded assumptions and speculation? They were only 20 years old, marriage was out of the question at that moment, and they both knew that this kind of thing is something planned and thought out together, never done for the emotion of the moment or to meet the needs of others.

A feeling of helplessness invaded her when she read those things, accompanied by a hint of doubt. Y/N felt deep pain due to the lack of trust and support from Matt's own fans. She had tried so hard to be a positive presence in his life, to love and support him unconditionally, and to make the people who meant the most to him and who brought him to the top really like her.

And now, she was faced with the cruelty of strangers who were ready to judge her without even truly knowing her.

I find it dizzying (yeah, oh, yeah)

They're bringing up my history (yeah, oh, yeah)

But you weren't even listening (yeah, oh, yeah)

Y/N felt constantly dizzy with everything that was happening around her. It was as if she was in the eye of a media hurricane, where waves of curiosity and intrusion were endlessly engulfing her. Even with her social networks private, she found herself inundated by a flood of fanatical fans, eager to discover even the smallest detail of her life.

The triplets' YouTube videos, in which she participated, were constant targets of investigation by fans. Every word, every gesture captured by the camera, was analyzed. And the boys' posts, where she occasionally appeared, were scoured thoroughly for any hint of her personal life.

The simple act of even appearing on a TikTok for a brief second was enough to trigger a new wave of speculation and conspiracy theories from fans. Y/N felt like she was looking over her shoulder every moment.

This growing fear began to affect her willingness to participate in the brothers' videos and appear on their social media. She retreated into the shadows, avoiding the curious eyes that surrounded her.

Meanwhile, Matt scrolled through his social media feed, the cruel and mean comments about Y/N flashed on his phone screen at every moment. "She only wants to hurt him", "She's only with him for the money", "She will run away at the first opportunity". The words penetrated like sharp knives, but he faced them with a calm expression.

He could feel the anger pulsing through his veins. The injustice of these accusations made him want to scream. But he forced himself to remain calm, to take a deep breath and remember what really mattered.

Matt knew Y/N better than he knew himself. He knew she wasn't a gold digger, that she wasn't with him out of interest or for any petty reason. He knew that she genuinely loved him, that they shared the same dreams and fears, joys, and sadness.

So he ignored the negative comments, the people who hid behind anonymous profiles to spread venom and hate. Sometimes, he even had the small pleasure of responding to these accusations with an ironic comment or a joke, knowing that, deep down, none of it mattered.

Because he trusted Y/N. He loved her more than anything in the world, and nothing could shake that unshakable trust he had in her.

[...] Talk your talk and go viral (oh, oh, oh)

I just need this love spiral (oh, oh, oh)

Get it off your chest (woah, woah, woah, woah)

Get it off my desk (get it off my desk)

Talk your talk and go viral (oh, oh, oh)

I just need this love spiral (oh, oh, oh)

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

But on the other side, the moments of exhaustion seemed to multiply for Y/N, like a lingering shadow that followed her with every step. Increasingly, she found herself sinking into a sea of cruel comments and venomous speculation from the media and fans.

Until a specific moment, where she finally understood that with Matt, she found the strength to fight it gradually. His arms wrapped around her with comforting warmth. His words of encouragement were like a balm to her soul. He supported her in every way possible, constantly reminding her of how much she was loved and valued and that nothing they said mattered.

Y/N slowly learned to filter the noise of the outside world, to block out the negative voices that tried to invade her mind. She no longer allowed the mean comments to get to her, choosing to ignore, block or mute them, allowing them to get everything they wanted off their chest and go viral using her name, and not giving a damn about it.

It was a gradual process, a journey of self-discovery and self-transformation. Y/N still had her moments of weakness, her doubts and fears, like in that moment. But with Matt by her side, she was able to cover her ears and eyes to them.

I feel the lavender haze creeping up on me

Surreal

I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal

The 1950s shit they want from me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

And despite all the bad things, being alone at that moment with Matt in their own haven was comforting. A lavender haze enveloped Y/N gently, like a warm lilac hug amidst the darkness of uncertainty, protecting her from external judgments.

In the comfort of their room, with Matt's presence beside her, she felt as if she could close her eyes and simply let herself be carried away by the constant flow of love she felt for the boy.

Despite the whirlwind of thoughts that danced in her mind along with vague memories of all the futile posts from pages that gossip about artists, demanding surreal things from her as if they had just come out of a time machine to the past, there, in that moment, she allowed herself to sink into the depths of this good feeling.

Matt's presence by her side was like a protective shield, pushing away all her fears and insecurities. His eyes, full of tenderness and understanding, met hers from time to time, conveying a silent message that he was there, ready to face any challenge alongside her. And there was nothing in the world that made him want to leave there.

With one smooth movement, Matt turned briefly to reach for the lavender air freshener that rested on the nightstand next to the bed. He activates the device with a delicate touch, releasing a fragrant mist that fills the room with the sweet scent of the flower. The soft, comforting scent envelops Y/N like a hug, calming her agitated mind and bringing an almost instantaneous feeling of serenity.

The mattress moved with Matt's movements, and he slowly turned around, now lying on his side and facing Y/N. His eyes met hers lovingly, and a smile played on his lips as he moved closer until their bodies were mere inches away.

"You still with me, sweetheart?" His voice was as soft as the cotton beneath their bodies, echoing off the walls that were surrounded by silence for long minutes.

"Uhm." Y/N murmured back, imitating him and turning so that she was lying on her side, facing him, the fog in her mind slowly dissipating.

With soft and delicate movements, Matt wrapped the girl in his arms, bringing her closer to his body, laying her head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart calming hers almost automatically.

"They don't matter, you know?"

Y/N felt a comforting warmth spread throughout her entire being upon hearing the brief and almost insignificant words, but that meant the world to her. She snuggled even closer to Matt, feeling his arms tighten around her waist where they held, allowing herself to sink into them like a safe haven from the storms of the outside world.

Matt lowered his head and gently kissed the top of his girl's head, breathing in the soft scent of lavender shampoo that emanated from her strands. Every touch was filled with love and devotion, a silent promise that he was there.

And so, cradled by the soft haze of love that surrounded them, Y/N and Matt surrendered to the present moment, the girl leaving behind all the worries and fears that haunted her, her heart begging to stay there forever.

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My asks are always open. My requests are closed at the moment since I have many to work in, but you can always send questions or simply talk to me 🩷💋

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

I don't know if I liked it very much, so I'm sorry if it sucked badly 😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @thebottledwatersupplier @bellasfavbisexual @soso-scarlettolivia @maryx2xx @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

474 notes · View notes