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vettelsvee · 2 days ago

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A SAINT VALENTINE'S BREAK UP? | Sebastian Vettel

Red Bull Sebastian Vettel x Race engineer girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: Seb is acting very, very romantic with you, but all you can think about, somehow, is that he's going to break up with you to go back with his ex girlfriend

WORD COUNT: 7221

WARNINGS: None of it! Just Seb being a cutie and lots of fluff. Also... many Taylor Swift mentions as reader is a certified swiftie ☺️

VEE'S NOTES: Happy Valentine’s to you all! This is one of my favorite shots I've ever written! Hope you like this one as much as I do and, in case you do, please comment your thoughts and reblog, it’s pretty appreciated! Thank you so much for reading <3 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

You slowly open your eyes and, still lying down, begin to stretch, moving from side to side. You reach out your hand toward the side of the bed where you expect your boyfriend to be, but all you feel is the cold of the morning seeping into your skin.

You sit up, fully open your eyes, and realize your boyfriend isn't there. Not there, nor anywhere in the room, not even in the bathroom, despite its door being open.

A loud noise coming from downstairs and the smell of coffee set off the alarms. You decide to put on your slippers, throw on your robe, and go downstairs slowly, trying not to make noise and disturb Seb in whatever he might be doing.

You enter the kitchen and see Seb with his back turned, holding the handle of a pan in one hand and a spatula in the other. Next to him, on the counter, is a plate with a couple of waffles, a bottle of ketchup, and a couple of jars with coffee and juice.

You knew Sebastian Vettel was romantic, but you also knew he liked to sleep like a log, so this could only mean that either you were dreaming, or the RedBull golden boy wanted something from you.

That he wanted to do something nice for his girlfriend was the last thing on your mind.

You decide to approach him and hug him from behind, not even flinching at your unexpected contact. Without stopping to pay attention to the scrambled eggs, almost ready, the German turns around and gives you a short kiss on the lips.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Did you sleep well?" he asks.

You just nod with a murmur.

"If you let me, I can finish preparing breakfast," he asks, trying to push you away. "I've been awake for an hour and a half to make everything perfect, so please, don't make me ruin it now."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Vettel."

You sit on one of the stools at the kitchen island and let yourself fall onto it, not without noticing the bouquet of flowers in the center. Orchids and roses make up most of it, although you also spot a few daffodils. You realize that what holds them all together is a cord with a small label with something written on it. Tempted, you’re about to open it, but you end up not doing it, convinced that it would be some gift for Sebastian that’s none of your business.

"Do you like it?"

Sebastian puts a plate in front of you, which, for what he usually does, is a masterpiece. A waffle covered with fruit on top, and beside it, scrambled eggs and some small containers with ketchup, whipped cream, white chocolate, and dark chocolate.

You’re mesmerized, not knowing what to say to him. It’s the breakfast your mother used to make you on weekends and on some special occasions, like your birthday. You’d even swear that the containers with the sauces on them are exactly the same. Your gaze is fixed on the plate, unable to look away. It’s quite strange that Seb knows about this because, beyond your sister and your late father, no one else has any idea about this tradition.

"Y/N, love, are you listening?" he insists, pulling you out of your trance.

"What?" you ask, completely distracted.

"The bouquet of flowers," Seb replies, pointing to the vase. "Although I also accept feedback on the breakfast."

"Let me taste it. You know you're not the chef of our wonderful couple."

Sebastian nods, takes a seat in front of you, and patiently waits for your final verdict. You take your time to slowly taste everything, even though you want to devour it eagerly. You make all sorts of combinations: chocolate with whipped cream and waffle, ketchup with scrambled eggs, and you even dare to mix chocolate and cream with eggs just to cough, give yourself nausea, and provoke laughter from your boyfriend.

You drink some coffee to get rid of the bad taste that had lingered in your mouth while you can't stop thinking about how on earth he could know your mother’s exact recipe.

"So, what's the verdict? Pass?"

You lift your head to look at him and smile. Not just approved: it’s such a masterpiece.

"Definitely, sunshine. I mean, not just the breakfast, don't get me wrong," you hasten to add. "All of this is wonderful," you point to the breakfast and to him, "but..."

But you’re starting to have the strange feeling like there's something behind all of this.

"But what, sweetheart?"

That he’s doing this because he wants you two to break up.

"Nothing," you rush to reply, dismissing the fleeting thought that just crossed your mind.

You know Seb isn’t pleased with your answer, but it seems to be enough for him.

You continue having breakfast, and soon he joins you with a protein shake and an apple. You can’t help but feel bad eating such a feast in front of him.

"And what do you think about the bouquet?" he asks.

"It's very beautiful," you reply, covering your mouth so he won’t see it full. "Whoever gave it to you has very good taste."

"Are you saying I have good taste?"

"What? Did you buy them?" you ask again.

"Of course. Who do you think would give me flowers?"

"I don't know," you say honestly. "Any of the girls who chase you around the paddock, for example."

"Y/N: the bouquet is for you," he announces nervously.

You remain, once again today, in shock. Seb has left you speechless on many occasions, but today is simply too much.

You look at the bouquet, look at him, and look back at the bouquet. His index finger points at the note. If you had noticed earlier, just as you're doing now, you could have seen, even if only vaguely, that it was his handwriting.

"Read the note, love."

Following his advice, you delicately take the card in your hands, trying not to break it and carefully untie the cord. When you open it, you can see that, in addition to something written in German, our mother tongue, it’s accompanied by his signature, a poorly drawn heart and, of course, one of the happy faces he almost always uses:

You told me I wouldn't have many firsts with you, but look: today is the first time I’ll give you flowers. I assure you there will be many more, my dearest paddock girl (although now I prefer calling you my beautiful girlfriend and, of course, my dearest race engineer).

Your eyes fill with tears. Without thinking, you turn around the kitchen island, run toward Seb, who is still sitting, and throw yourself at him to kiss him. You feel his arms wrap around your waist and his hands running down your back to your neck, pulling you closer without breaking your union.

You part, breathless, a few seconds later, when it feels like you're running out of air. Your foreheads stay together, and your gazes can’t be torn away from each other. A playful smile forms on Sebastian’s lips, and you know what he’s thinking.

"Don't get so affectionate, Y/N. We have a lot to do today."

You pull away from him and cross your arms. He hadn’t mentioned anything about that last night, not even when he convinced you to come spend a few days with him, knowing perfectly well that you couldn't just leave your job at the café during winter breaks like that.

"Well, you'll have to tell me what then."

He puts his hands in his back pocket and pulls out a piece of paper that he doesn’t hesitate to offer you.

"I made a list because I didn’t want to forget anything, you know I’m a mess," he explains as you quickly glance over what it says.

Try to find some album Lara wants, but the limited edition version.

It makes sense. Seb’s sister is as obsessed with One Direction as you are with Taylor Swift.

Buy a notebook (mom told me it’s good so I don’t forget things).

You don’t continue reading because the rest seems to be a shopping list that isn't very important. You leave it on the table, trying not to get it dirty with breakfast leftovers, and pick up the dishes, ready to wash them.

Seb quickly comes over to you, taking the items from your hands and depositing them all in the sink. Without saying anything else, he moves closer and gives you a quick peck on the lips, followed by a loving slap on your butt.

"No, today you're not going to do anything, so you better go upstairs and check if there's anything on the bed."

Following his advice, filled with intrigue, you hurry upstairs to the bedroom, looking for whatever Seb wanted you to see. It's quite easy to find, as the fluorescent pink color of the post-it note stands out against the snow-white sheets. "Look at the white box in the closet," it reads, accompanied by one of his smiley doodles.

You contain yourself from opening the box in the closet. Carefully, you place it on the bed and open it slowly, just in case there’s something unexpected. And indeed, there is: to your surprise, you find the dress you've been wanting for so long.

You take it in your hands, stretching it over you as much as you can, letting the softness of the fabric envelop your fingers. It's even more beautiful than you saw in that shop window, and you can’t fathom how Seb managed to get it because when you went to inquire about it, you were told it was sold out.

You notice something deliberately hidden under the tulle that wraps the dress. Carefully, you place the garment on the bed and discover the black and green lingerie set with floral details that you fell in love with the time you and Britta went to Victoria's Secret out of curiosity.

It's obvious what Seb wants from you, for the two of you to do.

"Seb! Was all of this your idea!?"

You wait for an answer that never comes. You shout again, louder this time, but silence is the only thing that answers you.

Deciding not to wait any longer for an answer that you know won’t come, you quickly dress in your new outfit, also changing your underwear and shoes to match.

When you get downstairs, Seb is already waiting by the door leading to the garage with his car keys in his hand.

"It looks much better on you than I thought," he says, lost in thought. "You look like a real-life Cinderella version, but a thousand times prettier."

You don't know how to respond because, even after two months of dating, you still haven’t gotten used to Seb constantly complimenting you.

You smile shyly and lower your head. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and leads you to his car.

"Did you like... that?"

"What do you mean by that, love?"

He knows exactly what he means, just like you, but you want to play along with him, just as he’s playing with you, filled with so much mystery.

"You know..." he begins, hesitating. "What, if I'm not mistaken, you're wearing underneath the dress."

"Oh, the bra and panties!" you exclaim as you get into the passenger seat and fasten your seatbelt. "They're perfect, Seb."

You remain silent for the first few minutes of the journey, with only the local radio station playing in the background.

"Y/N," he calls you again, shifting his gaze toward you. You hate it when he does that. "Did you really like the lingerie set, or was it too risky? I don't want our first Saint..."

He quickly stops himself, and you wonder why.

"Seb, seriously, I loved it," you assure him, trying to stay calm and make him feel the same. "Britta, more than having good taste, has a good memory," you add.

"Who says Britta helped me?"

"It's too much of a coincidence that last month, when we went into Victoria's Secret out of curiosity, I complained about how expensive this set was," you explain, pulling a strip of your bra out of the neckline of your dress to show him, "and how much I'd love to have it. And today, you show up with the dress I'd been saving up for more than I'd have liked.”

Seb smiles sideways. It’s obvious he’s the one behind all of this.

"Maybe I should talk to my PR about more mundane things than press conferences and stupid rumors," he confirms.

"If you want, only if you want... I can show it to you later."

Thankfully, the traffic light turns red. His face quickly turns toward you, but he looks back at the road when you gently guide him with your hand. When the light turns green again, he continues driving.

His cheeks are flushed, a shade of red you rarely see. You won’t deny that you like seeing him like that.

"Easy, babe. We've waited three years to be together. I think we can wait a little longer to do exactly you know what."

A few minutes later, you park in one of the farthest parking spots from the mall. As usual, Seb gets out first to open the door for you, which you thank him for, even though you're dying of nerves.

"Well, what do we have to do?"

You start walking next to him, quickening your pace and taking his hand. But you let go almost immediately, and he gives you a look of pity. Only a few trusted people know about your relationship, and for now, you don’t plan on making it public.

His look pierces you like a dagger, and it only intensifies the thought that you’re living your last moments together.

"I thought we'd go to the music store first," he says, avoiding the tension. "Then I want to go to a stationery store that’s opened, and I know you’d... well, it has a lot of office supplies that you’d like," he adds. "And I also want to buy some things for our house in case we have special guests."

You don’t want to ask more questions, not wanting any unwanted answers. You assume that Hanna is one of those unexpected guests, but you can't face hearing him say it just yet.

The first stop, as Seb said, is the music store. As you enter, a combination of violins and pianos instantly relaxes you. A section of vinyl records catches Seb’s attention, especially because most of them are from his favorite band, The Beatles.

"You have no idea how long I've been looking for this," he begins, holding one in his hands and inspecting it. "But today we didn’t come for this."

He puts it down and heads to a more youthful section. You stop to look at the price of the vinyl version of Abbey Road and decide to take a picture to remember which one it is, in case you can find it cheaper, because the few savings you have were spent just coming to see him.

"Di, look! Do you like it?"

You spot him a few feet away, holding a stack of records. You approach him to see what titles he’s picked. The Speak Now album by Taylor Swift catches your eye, and you let out a muffled scream of excitement.

"Do you like any?"

You know he noticed your reaction, but you act as if nothing happened. You continue browsing through the stack of records, but none of them interest you, aside from the ones by Taylor Swift and Rihanna.

"Actually, no, sunshine," you lie.

Seb raises an eyebrow, knowing full well that your behavior contradicts your answer. He repeats the question, and you deny it again.

"Seb, really, I didn't like any of them," you insist.

"If you say so... then let’s go. I didn’t find the CD my sister wanted, so everything’s done here."

"But isn’t this the one you were looking for?"

You discreetly pointed out the limited edition of One Direction’s Up All Night behind him, the one you had noticed as soon as you arrived. You could feel him starting to get uncomfortable. A nervous smile tugged at his lips as he bit his lower one and played with his hair.

He was nervous, and now you were feeling even more anxious watching him like that. You swore that if it weren’t for the fact that you were in public, you'd have panicked.

You tried to laugh it off to calm yourself, but stopped as soon as he took your arm and quickly led you to the store's exit.

"Hey, calm down," you said once you were outside. "What's going on with you? Now you're in such a hurry?"

"Well," he glanced at his watch and you mimicked his action. It was twelve fifteen. Almost lunchtime, and you'd only barely tackled the first goal on the list. "I just remembered that my sister already had it."

"And why did we come then?"

He didn’t answer. His gaze dropped to the ground and he fidgeted with his feet. Another clear sign that he was lying.

"Seb, you know if you have something to tell me..."

"Stay here for a second. I'll be right back."

Before you could react, he disappeared back into the store. Curiosity bubbled up inside you, and you peeked through the shop window several times, hiding each time he seemed to catch a glimpse of you. A few minutes later, he came out with a paper bag in his hands. You rushed toward him to see what was inside, but as soon as you peeked, he switched hands.

"I'm not telling you anything for now," he said mysteriously. "You’ll see when the time is right."

"Come on, Seb..."

The pout you gave him, hoping for even a hint, did nothing, both at that moment and in the following hours.

As you went through the stores Seb wanted to visit, you realized he had established some kind of routine. You’d enter together, wherever it was, under the excuse of buying something on Sebastian's list. Once inside, he'd just glance around quickly, ask if you liked or needed anything, and then you'd leave. Each time you said no, he'd go back in, asking you to wait outside, and return with a bag.

It was clear he was plotting something, and you had a feeling it wasn’t anything good. You couldn’t stop analyzing every detail, trying to uncover the truth. Even when you went to one of your favorite restaurants to eat, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Seb devoured his food, savoring something other than vegetables and grilled chicken. Meanwhile, you picked at the plate of carbonara in front of you, consumed with thoughts of how all of this felt like the imminent end of your short love story.

Was Seb buying things for Hanna and hiding it from you?

"Y/N, what's wrong? You've been so quiet," he asked, concern filling his eyes. You forced a smile to hide the pain, but the truth was, you just wanted to cry.

"No, it’s okay. I’m just thinking about today," you said briefly, still staring at your food.

"You’re acting strangely, love. Are you sure you're okay?"

His insistence made you want to spill everything, but your judgment urged caution to avoid risking your relationship even more.

He set down his fork and reached across the table to hold your hands. He didn’t care about who might see, but you felt a flutter of anxiety. Surprisingly, that simple gesture calmed you a little.

"Yes, really," you insisted, meeting his eyes. "I'm just trying not to get nervous about whatever you seem to be planning for you-know-who."

Your smile was forced, and so was his. You knew neither of you was convinced, but it didn’t matter. His expression said it all. He avoided your gaze, and his lips seemed to turn downward.

"What do you think about going to the movies after we eat? I know there’s a movie you’d like to see."

"I don’t know, Seb. Are you asking because you actually want to go, or because you're trying to distract me from whatever you’re hiding?"

Your tone was sharper than you wanted. You watched his face, and the shift in his expression told you that you had upset him.

You felt worse, wondering if all this fuss was just an excuse for him to take you shopping for gifts for his new girlfriend—who, ironically, was his ex-girlfriend—and that he’d break up with you as soon as he could.

"Love, really, I just want to have a good time with you," he assured, though you could tell it was difficult for him.

"And why all this? Why so much insistence that I come with you yesterday, to spend a few days together? What are you hiding?" you asked, your voice heavy with pain.

"I'm not hiding anything, darling. I’m serious," he sighed, struggling to find the right words. "I just want today to be special for us. Why else would I bring you to a place you love to eat? And the movies? I know how much you love cinema. Just like I know you love Taylor..."

"What's with Taylor?" you asked, your curiosity piqued. "Swift, I assume," you added.

"What movie did you want to see?" he countered.

In the end, he picked the movie since you didn’t feel like sitting through an hour and a half of screen time. A Few Best Men was his choice, though it wasn’t one he would usually watch. He did it for you, just like he paid for the tickets almost before you could protest.

Once in the theater, he led you to the section with a wide selection of snacks and urged you to choose whatever you wanted.

"It’s enough that you paid for everything today," you shyly said. "Lunch, the tickets, whatever you bought in the stores..."

For Hanna, not for you, you thought, trying to push that suspicion away quickly.

But Sebastian, being stubborn, wouldn’t let you pay.

"Come on, Y/N. Choosing snacks is part of the movie experience," he said, as if you went to the movies every day. "Seriously, love. Pick whatever you want."

"I’m not hungry."

He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he made his way to the snack counter, choosing things for you.

"So, for my wonderful girlfriend let's grab some popcorn," he began. “And I’ll also get her a bag of licorice and another of M&Ms to mix with the popcorn..."

"And what about you, Vettel?" you asked, trying not to laugh at how well he knew you.

"The usual: sweet popcorn and nachos with cheese."

Seb took the whole selection to the counter to pay. You tried convincing him to let you do it, but, once again, he wouldn’t hear of it. He even insisted on carrying everything to the theater. Some popcorn spilled, and you made a mess with the soda, earning you a scolding.

The ads were already showing when you finally got inside. It was dark, save for the flicker of the screen. You had to be careful not to trip as you made your way to your seats in one of the higher corners.

Seb sat next to you. What you thought would turn into a secretive kiss session turned into him whispering that he was going to the bathroom.

"I won’t be long, I promise," he said.

"Sure, go ahead," you replied.

Since you saw him get up and disappear from the room, you couldn’t concentrate on anything other than his departure, especially when you noticed that minutes were passing by and he hadn’t returned. During the first fifteen minutes, you tried your best to focus on the movie, but it was impossible no matter how much you tried to get interested. About half an hour later, you were already thinking about infidelity, unexpected encounters, and even, why not, that he had left you hanging.

Forty-five minutes after he left, Sebastian returned, giving you a kiss on the lips that you didn’t respond to with the same passion as usual.

"How's the movie, darling?" he asked as if nothing had happened.

You took a deep breath before answering him. You didn’t want to mess things up, even though, perhaps, he deserved it.

"Fine."

"Are you enjoying it? Did I choose well?"

"Yes."

Seb seemed to notice your curt responses, but it’s not like you wanted to hide them. He approached you, wrapping his arms around you, but you escaped. The last thing you wanted in those moments was to have him close.

"Is something wrong, Y/N? You've been acting strange all day, love."

"Nothing's wrong, Seb. I'm just a little tired," you lied again, avoiding looking directly at him. Was it you who was acting strange?

"I was thinking of going out to dinner," he said a bit... sad? "But if you want, we can go back home. Today, I'm completely at your disposal."

"I see," you commented ironically.

The blonde man gently took your hand.

"I was thinking of taking you to a newly opened Spanish restaurant," he whispered. "Would you like that?"

"I would love it," you declared. He had caught you there. Wherever there was Spanish food, everything else could go away. "But you know as well as I do that we shouldn't frequent public places if you want this," you pointed to both of you with your finger, referring to your relationship, "to stay between us and our closest family."

"We had lunch at a restaurant today and nobody saw us," he reproached, raising his voice a bit more than he should. Some people turned to look at you, and you tried to hide.

"Yes, and what time was it, three-thirty in the afternoon? Who the hell eats at that hour, Seb?"

His silence confirmed your point.

"Well," he continued, not letting you enjoy the movie, "then I'm afraid I'll have to change a part of my surprise. You're lucky I'm a Formula 1 driver and fast thinking is my thing," he said, trying to make you laugh and achieving just the opposite.

"Don't we already have a problem?"

"What problem are you talking about, Y/N?"

That his tone had gone from relaxed to completely curt, and above all. That he called you by your full name was a bad sign, a very bad one indeed.

"Sorry," he spoke immediately, realizing that he hadn’t answered you and that he certainly hadn’t spoken in the best way. "It’s just that I’m getting nervous. I'm sorry," he repeated, making you feel a little guilty. "Everything I had planned is just one mess after another, and..."

"It's okay, Seb. Let's go to have dinner," you ended up giving in, ignoring what you had just heard and even though hunger was the last thing on your mind at that moment.

Seb kept talking to you about a thousand different topics for the remaining time of the movie, and did the same on the way back to the car and throughout the journey to that restaurant called La Casa. As much as you felt bad because your boyfriend seemed to have lost his spirits, your mind kept playing tricks on you, and it was nearly impossible to stop thinking that the bad news was going to come at any moment.

Now, as you waited for Seb to come out with the order, and hopefully with the food already in his hands, your stomach was a bundle of uncontrollable nerves.

"I ordered a little bit of everything," you had seen him coming from afar, but you turned in your seat when he opened the trunk. "I know Spanish food is your favorite because you grew up with it for most of your life," he explained as he placed the bags in the back of the car. You were about to interrupt him, but he asked you to be quiet. "I also ordered some Asian food, which they also had, I don't know why, and I know you love that too."

"But don’t you remember anything you ordered?" you inquired with curiosity now that your hunger seemed to have returned.

"Just some croquetas and tortilla de patatas. I don’t understand Spanish, my dear," he replied as he got behind the wheel and resumed driving down the road. "When we get to the lookout, you'll have to explain everything to me in detail."

As you continued driving towards the place, unease grew in you at the same time. A desire to vomit integrated into your throat, accompanied by cravings that you didn’t try to hide. With each turn Seb took, you swore that the little you had eaten that day, which was already more than digested, was going to be thrown up when you least expected it.

Sebastian Vettel, the guy you had been in love with since, possibly, the day he stayed overnight in your hotel room the night before his first victory, was going to break up with you, the girl he considered the love of his life, and for whom he left his ex-girlfriend.

Surreal, right?

The driver parked the car, got out quickly, and didn’t hesitate to open the trunk. He took out a much larger number of bags than you would swear to remember. Then, he unfolded a blanket and placed it on the ground, putting a couple more on top, you guessed it, so you wouldn’t get cold. He also placed some cushions from his house and a paper tableware with children's drawings next to what you would swear was the food he had just bought.

Your surprise came when he took out a box much larger than the one this morning. As if it weren’t enough that it was closed, it was wrapped in Cars-themed wrapping paper, and to top it off, it had a big red bow on it.

"What's all this about?"

Your still boyfriend, with the box in his hand, gave you a bittersweet look, as if you were speaking to him in a language he didn’t understand.

"Sebastian, I'm telling you seriously," you got even more serious. You saw him start to laugh, and you got even angrier with him. "Don’t laugh, you asshole!"

"What are you talking about, love?" he asked innocently while you hit him with slaps on the arm.

"About today. All day long," you reluctantly replied, which was the last thing you wanted given his expression, quite a poem. "First, I don't know how, but you get up much earlier than me and make me the exact same breakfast my mom used to make for me," you began to enumerate, trying to control your anger. "Then, you give me a list that we didn't end up using because you did whatever you wanted. And let's not forget that you left me alone in the movie theater to, of course, go anywhere but to the bathroom," you added angrily.

Seb was unable to process an appropriate response, and that's when you realized everything. You tried to control your tears, just as you had done all day long, but you couldn't do it anymore. As soon as your tears began to fall down your face, you saw the pilot leaving the box he was holding on the ground, and coming closer to you to hug you. At first, you resisted, but you gave in when, once again, his arms became your refuge.

"The day I asked you out I told you we were going to have many first times, do you remember?" he said softly. You nodded, remembering how nervous you were all that day. "Don't you want us to celebrate our first Valentine's Day together in a special way?"

Valentine's Day.

Today was February 14th.

It couldn’t be true.

You quickly moved away from Seb and looked around. Now everything made sense.

Everything he had been preparing was for you... or at least, that's what you believed.

"What do you mean Valentine's Day?" you blurted out, unable to hide your surprise.

"Well, Valentine's Day today, Y/N. You know… the day when couples, or almost couples, or I don't know, do things for each other, and..."

"So you don't want to break up with me?"

You let it out so quickly, without letting him finish speaking and without thinking. You burst into tears once again. Now you felt much stupider than before, but above all, you felt bad because you had earned the title of the worst girlfriend in the world. Seb had done all this for you, and all you had done was pay him back by speaking badly to him, thinking he was cheating on you, and of course, not buying him the vinyl he wanted.

"Break up with you?" You knew that right now he probably wanted to tell you anything but nice things. That he had hugged you again, and, above all, that his voice conveyed calm said a lot about him. "Y/N, where do you get those ideas from?"

"It's just that..." You inhaled and exhaled before looking up at him. You couldn't speak badly to him again, especially not for something that had been the result of your insecurity. "Everything today made me think you wanted to end it. The breakfast, leaving me stranded at the cinema... I thought you were getting ready to tell me you were getting back with Hanna," you finished saying.

Seb, after hearing that, held you even tighter against his chest.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry if I made you feel that way," he apologized. "All of this was to do something special for our first Valentine's together, not to ruin it. I know I messed up, and you have no idea how much I regret losing control over certain things because it's the last thing you deserved."

He seemed quite repentant, and that made you feel even worse.

"Do you want to see what's in here?" he said, pointing to the box still on the ground. "I've prepared it for you," he whispered shyly. "I just hope you like it; if not, you can tell me without any problem."

"I haven't bought you anything," was all you could reply.

"It's okay, love. I prepared all this for you because I wanted to, and also because you deserve it, not because I wanted anything in return."

You tried not to overthink anymore. You sat on the ground, on the blanket and beside the box. With your hands slightly trembling, you started to slowly tear the wrapping paper. Seb sat next to you, too close, giving you an unexpected kiss on the cheek and not bothering to move an inch away from you.

The first thing you saw was a pile of confetti, which you didn't hesitate to push aside, revealing a wide variety of all kinds of sweets, especially your favorites, along with small details of stationary supplies that you remembered seeing in that stationery store and that had caught your attention.

In the center were two small gifts wrapped as well as possible, each with an envelope attached with your name, written perfectly in light blue capital letters.

"This is too much, Seb," you honestly exclaimed, turning to him. "Now I understand why you've been asking me if I liked certain things and then you would return to the stores just to come out with a bag that you wouldn't let me see..."

"I know it's been very wrong on my part, but I think the little scare I gave you was worth it. Just look at the beautiful and happy face you have right now," he revealed, laughing, squeezing your cheeks.

And here you were, thinking he was going to break up with you...

Definitely, you didn't deserve Sebastian Vettel.

"First, you have to read the note from the envelope carefully," the German explained carefully, "and then try to guess what it could be."

"And after all that, can I open it?" you innocently asked, although the answer was more than obvious.

"Of course. Here, try this one first."

He took the rectangular gift and handed it to you. Before reading anything, you started to make assumptions about what it could be, but you were so overwhelmed that you decided to finish your task within a few seconds.

With eagerness, you carefully opened the envelope so as not to tear it because you were going to keep it until the end of time to remember this day, and, with a bit of optimism, to be able to show it to your children someday if you were still together.

"Can you read it out loud for me, princess? I don't remember what it says."

You said that, fortunately or unfortunately, you had finished the first gift I gave you. I hope this second part is as good, or even better, than the first one," you read aloud and clearly. "P.S.: I hope from now on you write more, and better, about me."

You looked up and saw Seb smiling.

"Do you know what it could be?" he wanted to know.

Of course you did.

"Y/N's diary, part two."

He didn't say anything else although his half-smile had formed almost automatically, saying it all. With a slight nod of his head, he gave you the go-ahead to open it, and so you did. As soon as you got rid of the wrapping paper you saw a notebook that you would now use as a diary, and which, like the previous one, had a plain color and a photo of you both after the victory of his first world championship, your first photo, in Polaroid format.

"Seb... I don't know what to say..."

"Don't say anything yet because there's another one here."

He handed you the second gift. This one had the form of a square and, by feeling it, you realized it didn't have just one envelope, but two. This second one, on the back, was much larger. Before you could take a look, Seb removed it and hid it behind his back, as if he were a little kid not wanting anyone to take away a candy from him.

"First the small one, which is the one you'll like the least," he clarified in a childish tone.

"Okay, okay..."

Just as you did with the previous one, you carefully tore open the envelope, opened it, and read the note out loud:

I see sparks fly whenever you smile. Get me with those eyes, baby, as the lights go down.

It couldn't be true.

You were so excited that you didn't even make guesses about what it could be. You tore the paper, now eagerly and with so much force that you saw an album falling to the ground.

As soon as you read Speak now on the cover, and saw a blonde girl wearing a purple dress, you let out a muffled scream.

“Taylor Swift's albums, Seb?! Seriously?!”

Taylor Swift and Fearless were also in the small package, and now the excitement was overwhelming. You screamed like you hadn't in a long time. You stood up, and seeing Seb doing the same, you threw yourself into his arms and kissed him like you had never kissed him before, like he truly deserved to be kissed.

"If you're like this over three albums, how are you going to react when you see this?"

Without saying anything else, he handed you the larger envelope.

You hesitated whether to take it or not because his face was totally expressionless, although his eyes hinted that he was eager for you to know what was inside.

Tickets for the Speak Now World Tour. Impossible.

"Seb, tickets have been sold out for quite a while now..." you stuttered, unable to look him in the eyes because you didn't want him to see you cry over this. "You know I've been looking everywhere for months and haven't found anything..."

"Well, but you're lucky to have found a boyfriend who’s a Formula 1 driver and has certain privileges," he said, forcing you to hug him. "I think you already know how we're going to celebrate the fourth anniversary of the day we met."

"You still remember?"

You pulled your head from his chest to look at him. His eyes were shiny, probably like yours were. The moment you saw him nod was when you couldn't contain your tears, and he couldn't control his either.

"How could I forget the day I met you, Y/N? It was March 13th, I'll never forget it," you were surprised he remembered, but what could you expect from this guy? "You met me in 2008, and in 2012 I promise you'll meet Taylor as surely as my name is Sebastian. Since we have to go to Australia for the first Grand Prix of the year it's no problem if we leave a few days earlier."

"You must be kidding," was all you could say in a voice so low that only you heard it.

You remained standing even as you saw him sit down and start to open the bag containing the takeout food he had ordered.

"Love, I don't know what you'd prefer first, so I'll put a bit of everything on the plate for you, and if you don't want more, I'll eat it myself or we can save it for tomorrow, okay?"

You sat down beside him, perhaps too close for you both to be able to dine quietly and comfortably, but in those moments, you think neither of you cared in the slightest.

"I'm really sorry I didn't get you anything sunshine," you said as you picked up a glass of gazpacho. "Honestly, I completely forgot, and I won't lie to you: I've never celebrated Valentine's Day, so..."

"Don't worry about that, babe. Don't you dare to think about gifts or anything," he interrupted, leaving his plate of food on the blanket and wrapping his arms around you, taking your chin and forcing you to look at him. "From now on, we're going to celebrate everything," he stole a kiss from you and then pulled away. "But I don't want you to give me anything, alright? The best gift not only for Valentine's Day, but for life, is you, and nothing and no one in the world will surpass you, okay?"

"Okay, sunshine."

"Y/N," he called you a few seconds later as he started eating. "You're the best thing that’s ever been mine.”

You smiled and ate, trying not to choke, enjoying Seb's effort to sing Mine as best as possible while also trying to keep the piece of tortilla in his hands from breaking.

You felt happy, and you were afraid it would be snatched away from you at any moment. You allowed yourself the luxury of not thinking about it, and as your voices joined together in unison in the chorus of the song, you couldn't help but think that on days like today, your boyfriend, your partner, the only person who had trusted you to rise in Formula 1, the blond German who had hurt you only to fix it afterwards, the one you risked considering the love of your life, was the one who made everything worthwhile.

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hotdsworld · 3 days ago

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"Behave"

Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen x F!Martell!Reader

a/n: I kinda hate this piece but I truly wanted to finally publish something for the Valentine's day so here it is 😉 dividers and mdni by lovely @cafekitsune

Word count: 3,6k

Warnings: 18+!, oral (F receiving), public, degradation (not a lot of it), p in v, unprotected, spanking

Translations:

ābrazȳrys - wife

riñītsos - little girl

Minors please do not interact

There you were, a beautiful wife of Prince Regent. Your marriage was arranged, happened before Viserys died and left nothing but chaos. The old fool thought a simple marriage could fix what he had broken, but it did not work. It did not make Aemond calmer or less thirty for vengeance. Both Rhaenyra and Aegon were unfit to rule. You preferred to watch from the sidelines. Much like your house, you remained neutral. They could do so because of their independence, but you married into House Targaryen, one day you will have to choose like everyone else.

“Princess Y/n, is married life what you expected?” Larys Strong asked. A question a bit out of nowhere but you didn't let it get to you. You were used to that creep. You straighten your back, looking at Aemond with the corner of your eye. What a great chance to get back at your lovely husband…

“Would be much better if my lord husband spent his time with me in our bedchambers instead of sitting and plotting, lord Larys,” you smiled politely. Aemond clenched his jaw, your taunts were not to his liking. Larys showed no reaction, but judging by his eyes, he was amused. Larys was always a spectator, enjoying the drama, pulling the strings from the shadows. You did not trust him.

“The dragon should be careful if he doesn't want his lady wife snatched by another,” Tyland joined the conversation. He always found you beautiful and of course, you were going to use it. Why wouldn't you? All is fair, especially with Targaryens apparently.

“By a lion? They are quite greedy, aren’t they?” You smirked, watching Aemond intently. Tyland nodded slowly, catching your hint. He would never refuse a pretty woman, let alone a princess.

“We are. We take and take, and one might find it to be quite pleasurable,” Tyland was falling beautifully deeper into your trap. You giggled sweetly, batting your eyelashes. Aemond was forced to watch through the meeting as you shamelessly flirted with Lannister. Aemond had nothing against Tyland until today. How dare he watch Aemond's wife with lust? You belong to him, it mattered not if the marriage was arranged. You were Aemond's. And Aemond did not appreciate anyone playing with what belongs to him.

Aemond is a composed and calculated man, but being married to you was a real challenge. You had no fear and respect, he couldn't tell if you were brave or dumb, but he found it intriguing even if it irritated him to no end. He was fuming as your fingers trailed up Tyland’s arm, and he spoke before he could stop himself.

“It is common and courteous to pay attention to your lord husband first before you pay it to any other man,” Aemond hissed, struggling to control himself. You were infuriating, like your whole existence served to torment and annoy him. You? You enjoyed it. During war there weren't any enjoyable activities, but annoying your husband? Always worked. Since he was so easy to anger, yet he kept himself composed, taking pride in his reputation. Aegon? A chaotic drunk, but Aemond? He was better, he wanted to be. He needed to be better than the one who laughed at him.

“Why should I pay attention to a husband that hasn't been paying attention to me? Men of your… sorry, your brother's small council are much nicer and attentive, no? I might find myself enjoying their closer attention in private.” The room seemed to still. If it had been any other man, such a foul tongue would have earned you a brutal punishment. But this was Aemond. You weren’t afraid of him, not truly. No, you reveled in it. You enjoyed it. The way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers curled against the edge of the table, and for a moment you couldn't help but imagine them gripping your body tightly… He was struggling to maintain the icy composure he so desperately clung to. You loved watching him being on the edge of his restraint, and tonight, you intended to push him over. His eye darkened, full of rage as the gathered small council members exchanged uneasy glances. This wasn't just teasing, this was humiliation. You’d made him look weak, unable to control his own feelings, in front of the men he now led since Aegon was unable to.

“All you’ve been,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, as he kept himself back from shouting, “is a goddamn tease who has no fucking respect.” The slap came fast, the sound echoing in the chamber. It stung, hot and electrifying, a strange mix of pain and arousal ran through you, a feeling you couldn’t ignore. Your heart pounded, not with fear but excitement. You did it. You’d pushed Aemond past the breaking point. You ruined his image of a perfectly composed man. “You want my attention, ābrazȳrys?” He hissed, jaw clenched hard. You lost yourself in his voice. High Valyrian really suited him. You knew he had something planned, you angered him to no end… and that excited you. You craved whatever he wanted to give. “Now, you have it. All of it,” Aemond picked you up just to shove you down onto the table, causing a mess, papers to scattle and goblets to fall over, spilling wine. You smirked, biting your lip to prevent laughing. You were getting off on him losing control too much. Your whole body burned and he seemed to be burning as well. Aemond tore apart your pretty gown, it was one of your favorites but you didn't care. Not about your favorite piece getting ruined, not about others watching, not even about his roughness. Not when his hands were all over you, exploring. Aemond's cold hands are a contrast to your heated body, his touch urgent and possessive, intending to claim every single inch of you.

“My prince, it would not be wise to do it here in front of all,” Criston said calmly, and maybe Aemond would have listened to him, if he wasn't so fucking angry and hard. Criston made a mental note to mention it to Alicent later.

“No, I need to teach my wife how to behave. I need to show her the consequences,” Aemond answered sharply.

“Maybe we should leave you two alone. I believe we have discussed everything-” Tyland muttered, the men began to stand up, intending to leave. You barely heard him, too focused on your husband and his touch. You could feel yourself growing wet, impatient for what was about to come. You couldn't tell if you wanted the men to leave or to stay, but maybe it didn't matter. What mattered was getting Aemond as soon as you could.

“Sit,” Aemond’s voice cut through the air like a blade. A clear command, not a question. The men froze, recognizing the authority in the prince’s voice. Aemond knew perfectly well they wished to escape the room, all nervous and embarrassed, but he did not care. He wanted them here, witnessing this. And you couldn't find it in yourself to protest. There was something exciting about it. Before, Aemond wouldn't show you any kind of affection, not publicly, and now? He was ready to show everyone that you belong to him. The display of his dominance sent another rush of heat through your body. You clenched your thighs, trying to control the ache between your legs. Slowly, they sat back down, looking at their hands or away from your body.

You didn't cover yourself, you wouldn't. It was Aemond's world and you were the center of it. The very source of the anger and overwhelming need inside of him. Aemond focused back on you, leaning down to plant kisses all over your neck, sucking on your skin there. You moaned softly, tilting your head back, closing your eyes as you let the pleasure run through your veins. Maybe your plan worked a little too well, but you didn't complain. You were touch starved, and so was he judging by how desperately he was kissing your neck, his hands massaging your delicate breasts. Aemond was as hard as a rock, but he would be damned if he didn't prepare you first. You deserve a punishment, but not without the pleasure. You looked at Tyland, but only briefly because Aemond tugged on your hair, his kisses getting lower. He spread your legs, the action urgent but gentle. Fairly gentle, since he was still frustrated. “I want your eyes on me, riñītsos. The whole time,” his face hovered over your pussy, that was aching with need, you felt as if Aemond didn't touch you soon, you would beg for it, and you were too prideful for that. Aemond couldn't hold back even if he wanted to, taking a slow lick from your slit to your clit, pupils dilating at the taste. “If you look away I’m going to stop. No matter how close you will be, I will stop. And your cunt is dripping so I know how much you crave this. So eyes on me, riñītsos. Look how I claim you with my tongue,” he whispered, but you heard him clearly. Aemond leaned back down, his tongue immediately attacking your wet folds and hole, eager to taste more of you. You moaned in surprise, not expecting such eagerness. Your fingers tangling with his silky hair. You were like the most delicious dish, and he was a man starved. He moved his thumb up, rubbing small circles against your sensitive clit, his other hand traveled up to massage your breast. Your hips bucked forward involuntarily against his face. Aemond chuckled, sending vibrations through your core. The men tried to focus on themselves or the objects in the room, but they couldn't help stealing glances at your body. Aemond hummed, clearly satisfied with the position he found himself in, knowing they can look at you but they cannot touch, they cannot taste you like he can, because you belong to him. You tilt your head back, yet another loud moan escapes your lips, your face contorted in ecstasy. You have never experienced such pleasure, you couldn't even control your own body at the moment. All you could think about was how good his tongue felt on your body, claiming you utterly and completely. The pressure inside of you built rapidly, mounting with every second of Aemond eating you out so deliciously, until the intensity shattered into a wave of release, washing over you. Your thighs shook as Aemond licked up every single drop of your release, savoring the exquisite taste. You tasted better than the most expensive of wines. The sensation of the climax lingered, leaving you breathless for a good moment, but Aemond didn't let you recover so easily, flipping you onto your stomach. You were directly facing Tyland, which somehow made you even more excited for what was about to come. Aemond chose that position for a reason. He smirked, discarding his tunic rather quickly, almost tearing it apart. His slender fingers moved lower, working on his breeches swiftly. Soon enough, Prince Regent was completely bare before you and the small council. You looked over your shoulder, licking your lips. His abs was the best thing you have seen in a long time, if not in your whole life. You couldn't wait to get your hands and mouth on him, but your husband seemed to have different plans. Aemond was perfectly trimmed, as expected of someone of his status. He wanted to look flawless always, it didn't matter if it was hair, clothing, or body hair.

Aemond approached the table, pulling you back by your hips. His hands on your skin sent yet another shiver down your spine. The head of his hard cock was pressed directly against your entrance, but he did not push himself in. Oh gods, how he wanted to do that, screaming at himself internally for pausing, but he was a prideful man. “I won't fuck you. Not until you tell lord Tyland that the behavior of yours earlier didn't serve to charm him, not truly. Tell him you behaved this way because you wanted your husband to snap and finally punish your slutty body. Tell him the only man you have your eyes for is your lord husband.” He spanked your ass, causing you to jump a little. It hurt, but it felt somewhat refreshing, doing nothing to extinguish the fire burning inside of you.

“Aemond,” you whined, needily, perhaps even pathetically. But your body yearned for him. You desperately needed his cock inside of you, even if it meant letting go of your pride. Aemond spanked you again, his hand leaving marks on your ass cheek. You looked up at Tyland, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Aemond urged you, grinding against you, teasing you with the promise of penetration, and you could not resist. He bedded you only once before to consummate the marriage, it was nothing special then but you were sure how he would bring you an orgasm of your life.

“Lord Tyland, I apologize for my earlier behavior. All I did was attempt to provoke my lord husband into giving me attention. I have no genuine interest in your affections nor would I ever welcome them. It was simply a game to make Aem- Prince Regent jealous. My eyes are only for him,” you muttered. It was truly hard to speak clearly when your body was trembling with anticipation. Tyland did look disappointed, but he could have seen this coming. He nodded slowly, afraid of saying the wrong thing and enraging Aemond. Aemond leaned forward, putting some of his weight on you.

“And now I want you to beg. Beg like the little wanton slut that you are. Show me how much you need me inside this dripping cunny and maybe I will consider fucking it,” Aemond whispered, but loudly even for the men to hear. His hand landed on your ass cheek once again. Now you knew, it was a revenge for his earlier humiliation. You didn't care that he was humiliating you now, making you beg for something as simple as this. You wanted and needed him, and shame would not stop you.

“Please, Aemond. I need you inside of me. I need you to claim me in front of them. I want to feel yours. Please, my lord husband, I need your cock. Let us be done with the games, I want to be owned by you,” you begged and pleaded, trying to get on his possessive side. If not for your earlier taunts Aemond would have tortured you for longer, but his cock was aching to be inside of you. He pushed his cock in, forcing himself to do it slowly. You were not a virgin anymore but Aemond's cock was still quite a challenge. He needed to stretch you out a little before giving into the fire burning inside of him completely. You bit your lip, the stretch bordering on painful, but you were determined to take it, you craved it. You needed Aemond as much as he needed you. Two flames cursed… or maybe blessed? To burn together. You were not scared of fire, as long as you would burn with him.

“You feel so good, ābrazȳrys. Your cunt is so tight… relax,” he cooed before spanking you harshly. You jumped, eyes wide. It stung even more than the previous ones. “This pussy feels like heaven, that's the only way for me; a sinner to get a taste of it, no?” Each trust served to claim your body completely. Aemond wanted to own you, not only in a sense of marriage. He wanted to own your body, your soul, your mind, your entire being. He wanted to melt into you and become one. His need for you ran deep. You moaned, relishing in the way his cock was sliding in and out of you, the previous discomfort disappeared. Aemond pulled your hair, enjoying how your back arched, forcing you to look at Tyland. His slow thrusts quickly turned into faster, more brutal ones. Men were not happy about this display. All except for Larys, who seemed intrigued. The obscene squelching sounds filled up the room, making your cheeks blush.

“That feels great. Please don't stop, Aemond please,” you mewled and whimpered, slowly losing it with his cock hitting every right spot. Aemond closed his eye, the way you moaned his name… it was perfect. Your pussy was incredibly wet for him, definitely wetter than the previous time. Aemond smirked, he liked the way the lords watched him claim you, he liked how eagerly your body responded. You were his. Completely and utterly. And it was just proof of it.

“It can't all be pleasure and no pain. You deserve a punishment, don't you, riñītsos? Count to fifty, princess,” he spanked you particularly brutally, leaving a red mark of his hand on your ass cheek. It burned and tingled in the best way. Aemond did not stop his punishing pace, fucking the shit out of you. “I can't hear you?” He taunted, his other hand moving to your clit, rubbing circles against it. Your eyes rolled back, it was a lot. Lords were outraged, but what could they do? They didn't dare to question Prince Regent.

“One,” you tried to control your voice, “two… ten…” Each spank hurt more than the previous one, but each of them was bringing you closer to the edge. Aemond was not merciful about this. Every time you said the wrong number or couldn't say a thing because of your moans you would start over again and again. Your ass cheeks were red, but the pain was a whisper among the screams of pleasure. “Fifty,” you breathed out, relieved that finally you managed to get through all of them with no mistakes. Aemond caressed your skin tenderly. You found yourself moving your hips back against his thrusts.

“Good job, riñītsos. I'm proud. You took it so well. So beautifully and utterly devoted,” he cooed, his gentle voice a contrast to his rough moves. His fingers toying with your clit with precision, he knew what to touch and when to drive you crazy. “Now you need to cum on my cock like a good little wife. Show everyone how much you love my cock,” he urged, pulling your hair. You bit your lip hard, the coil in your stomach threatening to snap any moment now. You were dancing on the very edge of your climax, and Aemond was the one leading. “I'm going to breed this little cunt so every single day you and others have a reminder that you are mine. I will put a beautiful Targaryen babe here, little dragon. And you will take it like a good slut, I know you crave it” his words mixed with a particularly deep thrust made the coil snap. Your walls fluttered around his cock, your body shook as the wave of pleasure washed over you. Drowning you in the intense orgasm. Aemond chuckled as he kept fucking you through your high. But he did not last any longer than you did. The way your walls deliciously tightened when you orgasmed got him good. “Fuck. Yes. That's it, whore. That's it, good girl. Such a tight pussy. All mine, mine to breed, mine to fuck, mine to cherish,” Aemond held your hips tightly, his balls tightened before he emptied himself inside of you, painting your walls white, groaning. He remained inside your pussy, enjoying the warmth.

“That was intense,” you muttered. Your ass stung like hell and you became aware that you in fact let Aemond fuck you in front of the small council. You could only thank the gods that at least his mother or his brother weren't there. Aemond pulled out of you with a wet pop. He would stay inside you if he could, but he needed to let those poor men go. He gestured to the servants to bring you something to cover yourself with.

“I expect you to behave from now on,” he gave your ass yet another spank. You whined, your flesh already burned and he still chose to torture you even more. Aemond watched his seed leaking out of you with perverse fascination. He gathered the cum and pushed it back into you. You just moaned weakly, there was something so fucking hot about him doing that. “Another proof we do it better than the pretender. Our heirs will be actually trueborn,” Aemond covered you with the robes the servant brought, he himself remained naked. It was a change for him, he was always insecure about his body mostly because of what he endured in the past. He picked you up gently, being considerate of your bruised ass and turned to the men.“You’re dismissed,” he told them before leaving. Aemond carried you to his bedchamber, holding you tightly as if you would disappear if he didn't. He placed you on the bed before stepping back.

“They will never forget it I fear,” you pulled him back down on the bed, tracing his scar softly, and he let you, making himself comfortable next to you. He chuckled, Aemond did not care. You loved his laugh, but he didn't laugh often if at all.

“They will live. But never fucking do that again,” he brushed your hair out of your face. He didn't even want to think of men taking what’s his. “You’re mine,” he whispered, pulling you to his chest. Maybe that night changed a lot for you in the marriage. It surely did for him. He was learning to open, to let himself be vulnerable around you. And you were so grateful for it.

#aemond fic #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #Martell Reader #female reader #aemond x female #aemond x fem!reader #hotd smut #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond #mdni blog

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benz12313 · 2 days ago

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Boyfriend!Ridoc - NSFW Version 🌶️

Description: I muse about what Ridoc would be like as a boyfriend, but sexually. I definitely leaned fem in this one, but let me know if you want a male version, as Ridoc is the Bi King. I also want to thank @littlemissmelodie for her idea about Ridoc liking to be called pretty boy, that has given me brainrot since I read her fic about it. You should definitely go check it out! I could definitely do a part two to this as well, just let me know if you'd like that.

Warnings: ‼️(MDNI) 18+ explicit content‼️, smut, oral female receiving, p in v, smut with feelings, swearing, fem!reader, established relationship, talk about sexual activities and kink, talk about dom behavior, ridoc is a switch, unprotected sex, lots of talk about sex obviously

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who’s main goal with sex is to feel closer to you, and to please you. Point blank. That’s his biggest motivation. He’s not the greatest with connection, but he bares his soul to you with every thrust, every groan, every gasping breath. Sure, he has a way with his words when he wants to, but he finds actions to be a more complete and natural way to show you his feelings. Definitely his go to way of showing you exactly what you do to him.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who’s kisses are a fucking slippery slope. One minute they’re small, innocent and fleeting. The next moment you find yourself being dragged into a broom closet or an empty classroom. Sure, he could, maybe keep his mouth to himself, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, he made you his, and he feels like part of that is getting to pull you off for a makeout session or a quickie whenever you’ll allow him to.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who wakes you up every morning with his head between your legs, lazily coaxing you awake with his tongue. The man lives for pleasuring you, he gets off on all your little sleepy whines and moans. He cares for his woman, and wants to know that at least one part of your day was peaceful and pleasurable, something you don’t often find outside your rooms.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who makes quickies a kind of sport. He likes to know just how thoroughly he drives you mad. This translates to seeing just how quickly he can convince you to run off with him; a look, a touch here or there, fuck, sometimes just a suggestive whisper, (“Hey, baby, that closet looks interesting, wanna…?”) and then suddenly you find yourself still mostly clothed as he’s unraveling you expertly. Seeing just how fast you cum on his cock or fingers, always trying to break his previous record. Usually around 5-10 minutes later you’re both stumbling out, you tired and slightly dazed, still trying to figure out how he made you cum three times in such a short timeframe. Ridoc is looking smug, arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders as he looks every, single, passerby directly in the eyes. Making sure they have no doubt in their minds of exactly what the two of you were getting up to in that empty room.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who also likes taking his time with you when time actually allows it. Spending hours just lazily fucking into you, as he absolutely worships the rest of your body. And then switching from devouring you slowly to consuming you wholly. Slow and sweet morphing into fast, hard, and unraveling. He pays attention to what your body is telling him, even if you can barely find the words, he knows what you need. He still likes to hear you though, almost getting a sick kind of satisfaction from how dumb he’s made you. “What was that Princess? Can’t quite hear you when you mumble like that.” “P-p-please? Please what Y/N?” “Gotta tell me what you need. How am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me, pretty?” “Awe, have you lost the ability to speak? My cock’s made you that fucking dumb? I bet you still know my name though right? Can you beg that at least?”

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who’s favoriteand most selfish desire is to have you begging for him. Dropping to your knees in front of him? Crawling across the bed to get to him when he’s moved away? Following his kisses every time he inches backwards just to see if you’ll move too? He eats that shit up. He just wants to know you want him just as badly as he wants you. He’ll be barely touching you, teasing you until you’re gasping out your pleas for him to just "please do something!” and that he can barely hold back that sick part of him that wants to continue, make you really beg. But he always obliges, getting off on the thought that he can make you beg in other ways soon enough.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who is down to try anything you want to try. Well almost anything, he draws the line at actual pain, like knives and shit, he can’t stomach the thought of leaving a lasting painful mark on you. Anything else though? He’s down. Wanna have a three way? He’s okay as long as you’re still his at the end of it. Wanna be spanked and degraded because you were naughty? “Get over here brat. Looks like Master's gotta teach you a lesson.” Sex on top of your dragons? He’s asking Xaden suspicious questions about how exactly he made that saddle, and Xaden fucking cringes when he reads his intentions. He can’t look at the two of you for weeks after that without getting all fidgety and weird. Ridoc wants you happy, and the kinkier the request the happier he is to fulfill it. He likes the excitement of trying something new just as much as you do, and the satisfied feeling at the end of it all is just the cherry on top.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who gets pussydrunk so fucking fast. And then fucking babbles incessantly about it. Most of it just blabbering, horny nonsense about how good you feel, how pretty you are taking his cock like that, about what those moans of yours do to him. Dude rides that high like a man starved, getting completely lost in how good you feel, every time.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who loves to have control, but loves it more when you take what you want from him. Use him like a good little boy toy, calling him “pretty boy” as you bounce on his cock, pleasuring yourself exactly how you feel like taking him. He absolutely eats that shit up to know that his woman isn’t afraid to take her pleasure into her own hands. He could pleasure you the way you want, but he needs to know that you’re just as comfortable taking control of him. You’re equals after all, and no one can convince me this man isn’t a fucking switch. No one. Man likes to let his pretty woman dominate him every once in a while. It’s almost relaxing for him to let you take control and do what you want with him.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who is constantly testing the waters with little touches, doesn’t matter where you are. Class? He’s got a hand on your thigh, moving just a little higher than necessary and making you squirm. Morning formation? He’s pinching your side and then muttering nasty things in your ear, relishing in that little blush you’re giving him. Studying with your friends? His hard on is poking into your ass as you’re sitting on his lap, and he bounces his knee occasionally, giving you both some friction as the rest of the squad pointedly ignores the both of you, trying to ignore their disgust over their friend’s lack of control. They’re over it by now, electing to ignore it mostly because the two of you are actually quite sly about it, they’ve just learned your tells, no matter how hidden they are.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who honestly just cares that you are as crazy about him as he is about you at the end of the day. If you’re not in the mood, he’s happy just holding you, not put out at all. Pleasure is a two way street after all, and your pleasure is just as important to him as his is. In fact, his hinges on yours. Ridoc is maddeningly in love with you, and his constant need for you to be close, no matter the context, is what drives him at the end of the day. Whether that be him making you beg for release or some insanely sweet aftercare (which he NEVER skips), Ridoc just wants you. However you’ll let him take you.

~ I'm taking requests as well, just submit them to my inbox and I'll get to them when I have time.

~ Want to be added to the tag list? Just comment or message me! :)

@xadenswhore @littlemissmelodie @jobroho @worldsanna @uneducatedraccoon @nicksolemnlyswears @binksbrewcrew

#fanfic #fourth wing #ridoc gamlyn #ridoc x reader #ridoc fourth wing #ridoc smut #ridoc and aotrom #ridoc #onyx storm #iron flame #ridoc gamlyn smut #ridoc gamlyn x reader

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silenzahra · 3 days ago

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☀ Clear morning: a Mareach short story ☀

💝💞💘 Happy Valentine's Day! 💘💞💝

This is a very short Mareach story that was inspired by the song that you'll find below. I highly recommend to check it out before or while reading, be it just the translation or the entire song, as hopefully it'll enrich the reading experience ❤️🩷

Hope it's okay that I tag some Mareach lovers that I think might enjoy this, needless to say you're free to ignore it if you're not interested, of course! @vulpixfairy1985 @smokszyvverstar @bberetd @itsavee4117 @pepperycar @peaches2217 @roscolate @stripetkattelalala54-gf @eleventhhourfactor @c-lavanda @doodleydoo101 @multicolour-ink @akiiame-blog @elitadream @dragon-fly34 @pinkcreamypeach

youtube

Translation available here.

Hope whoever gives this a chance will enjoy it! 💖💖💖

PS: In case you're also into some Luaisy sweetness, you may want to check out my very first Luaisy fic which was posted exactly one year ago today 🎂🥳

☀ Clear morning ☀

Dawn has yet to crack when Mario reaches the bridge leading to Princess Peach's castle.

He hears the gentle chirping of birds all around him, waking up and preparing for the new day ahead. He observes the dew-covered flowers that adorn both sides of the bridge, waiting for the sun to finally rise to shine in all its splendor and welcome the spring. The sky, like an immense curtain behind the castle, is slowly clearing up, daybreak approaching with each passing second.

And Mario, standing in front of the bridge, but not yet wanting to cross it, stands, his gaze fixed on the balcony above the main door of the castle.

The balcony of the princess, on which the majestic stained-glass window that represents her beauty and delicately captures her purity stands out.

Mario swallows, anticipation devouring him from the inside. He puts a hand to his chest as he notices that his heart is dashing, as if it had turned into a hummingbird. A nervous giggle escapes him, unable to believe that he’s doing this, that he ran away from home in the middle of the night and raced toward the castle in the hope of witnessing something that he’s not entirely certain will happen.

Even so, he wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Just in case. If it finally happens, he doesn't want to risk missing it.

Still, he feels bad about Luigi. The day before, his brother welcomed him back with immense joy after his umpteenth adventure rescuing Princess Peach from King Koopa's clutches. He showered him with attention and food while Mario couldn't stop thinking about the princess, about her safety, about how she might be feeling after Bowser had captured her in her own home. He was barely able to listen to Luigi, which he feels very guilty about, but he just couldn't get her out of his mind.

She’s taken over his soul to such an extent that she’s even crept into his dreams.

Mario can’t remember the details clearly, but he has etched in his memory the image of Peach, as beautiful and radiant as ever, leaning out on her balcony and waving to him as the sun rises over the horizon, her hair flowing in the morning breeze.

It was such a vivid, magical dream, and at the same time so reassuring after having rescued her, that when Mario woke up, he knew immediately what he had to do.

In a way, Peach is his muse. The one who, while he slept, showed him a vision and inspired him with that crazy plan that Mario set in motion without wasting a moment. He didn't care in the slightest that it was still the middle of the night when he left the house, although he is concerned that Luigi, who must be about to wake up now that dawn is approaching, will be scared when he discovers that his not-at-all-early-riser older brother has not only gotten up before him, but has also left the house excessively early. And without having breakfast.

But Mario can't pay attention to his growling stomach at the moment, and he trusts Luigi will understand when he explains his dream to him. He just hopes his little brother won’t worry too much.

The sound of birdsong, which has become louder, makes him turn his head for a moment towards the nearest tree. Mario smiles when he notices a small white bird, with a tiny pink crest, flying out from the branches and fluttering around his head for a second, making him chuckle. The plumber follows it with his gaze...

... And his heart skips a beat.

Just like in his dream, the first ray of sunlight shines directly on Princess Peach's balcony, causing the white stone to gleam with an almost blinding brilliance and drawing colorful sparkles from the stained-glass window, which only serves to enhance its magnificence.

But what takes Mario's breath away is to behold the person represented in that window. The very owner of that balcony, of that castle, of his rampant heart.

Contrary to what he expected given the early hour, Princess Peach has left her chambers. Silently, Mario watches her smile as the little bird flutters around her, and the sound of her laughter, soft and cheerful like the most delicate glass bell, floods his ears and sinks to the depths of his soul. Mario wants to bottle up that sound, take it home with him, listen to it all the time, when he wakes up in the morning and when he goes to bed at night. He could never have enough of Peach's laughter, not even if he lived a thousand lives.

Nor could he have enough of the heavenly image before his eyes, which he wants to capture in his memory forever: his beloved princess, leaning out on her balcony, her figure trimmed against the stained glass behind her and the rising sun making her shine and stand out even more. Her dazzling golden hair dances in the wind, and her elegant pink dress appears somewhat lighter in the dawn light, which brings out sparkles in the turquoise brooch on her chest and in the earrings that adorn her ears. The little bird on her finger, whose melodious song makes her smile, is an addition that only serves to further enhance the vision that Mario has dreamed of.

And yet, the plumber feels as if he were still inside that dream. As if he hadn’t managed to wake up completely, or as if he had fallen back to sleep as soon as he opened his eyes. This is much better than all those times when he’s even daydreamed about her, imagining that she’s in front of him and that he can look her in the face, as happens whenever his eyes, by accident or not, linger too long on the picture of the princess that hangs above the stairs in the house that he shares with his brother.

All that, those visions, those dreams… only take place in his fanciful mind.

But this… this is real. This he can see with his own eyes. And it’s much bigger and more magnificent than his imagination could ever conjure up.

He feels small, like the hummingbird that has nested in his chest. He feels tiny, like a mere mortal kneeling at the feet of the most radiant and majestic goddess. He feels undeserving of contemplating such beauty, for who is he, but a small, humble man who interrupts the peace of the queen of his soul?

The rising sun bathes Princess Peach in its golden light, and Mario wonders if this is the sun's way of declaring her, the most dazzling of all creatures, as its equal.

Certainly, Mario feels that his whole life revolves around her, that he orbits around her like a planet, that his heart would stop if her light were to be extinguished one day. He gasps as he stares at her ecstatically in the bright morning light, realizing that Peach has been slipping into his soul little by little, with every intense gaze, every kind word, every shy smile, every moment when she has taken his hand or kissed his nose or cheek in gratitude. Mario treasures each and every one of those moments in his heart, which she has undoubtedly taken over.

And he wouldn't want it any other way.

Suddenly, the little bird flaps its wings, and Peach extends her arm to encourage it to take flight. The bird heads towards the sun, which has almost fully risen, and as she follows it with her gaze, the princess suddenly notices the presence of the plumber at the foot of her balcony. Mario jumps, his face suddenly reddening, and wonders what he should do, how he should act. He tries to smile, but all he can manage is a grimace that must look ridiculous, which is in keeping with how he feels inside. What did he expect to achieve, standing there like a fool in front of the home of such a deity? Only to give the impression of a pathetic stalker, of course...

However, all his doubts are silenced when he notices how Peach's lips widen and the sparkle of joy that blossoms in her sapphire eyes, as well as a soft blush that covers her cheeks and makes them seem even more adorable and pure. Since she still had her arm raised, the princess begins to wave it gently in his direction, not without a certain shyness, but also clearly happy and pleased to see him.

And so, in a matter of a second, Mario feels, once again, trapped in a dreamlike fantasy from which he never wants to wake up.

Somehow, his arm moves. Somehow, his smile becomes more stable and confident. Somehow, his eyes connect with Peach's despite the distance between them. Somehow, he manages to return the greeting to the light of his life on this clear morning.

His day couldn't have started better.

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